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From the moment it began — that brutal, audacious opening raid sequence on the border detention facility — I felt the film grabbing me by the throat. I knew I was in for something ambitious, something that dared to be simultaneously political, wild, tragic, and strange. When the credits finally rolled, I sat in the dark for a few breaths, feeling both exhilarated and unsettled. This is not a perfect film. But it is one of the more thrilling, flawed, audacious ones I’ve seen in years.
I can’t pretend I love every fragment. At times it meanders. Sometimes its tone fizzes so wildly it threatens to slip. But more often than not, it pulls me back in — partly by force, partly by its sheer emotional guts.
Here’s how the pieces come together (or sometimes don’t), and why I think One Battle After Another matters.
Story, Structure & Characters
On paper: a former radical (Bob), living off-grid with his daughter Willa, is drawn back into the fray when an adversary resurfaces and Willa disappears. The film is loosely inspired by Thomas Pynchon’s Vineland, but Anderson takes wide liberties, updating and reinterpreting the source for today. (The Washington Post)
What struck me: the contrast between the political machinery and the intimate core. The many set pieces of raids, insurgencies, subterranean resistance, conspiracies — they feel like the “outer skin.” The emotional skeleton is the bond (and breakage) between Bob and Willa, and between Bob and (ghosted) Perfidia.
Critics have rightly noted that there are very few scenes where Bob and Willa share the screen, yet their bond pulses through nearly every frame. (The New Yorker) For me, that is both a strength and a frustration: you want more of their direct presence.
Sean Penn as Lockjaw (the villain) is a show-stealer. He sways between menace and caricature; he’s gleefully evil in a way that reminds you political extremism often masquerades as swagger. (The Washington Post) But sometimes his performance tips into broadness. The line between symbol and human is thin.
The ensemble cast — Regina Hall, Benicio del Toro, Teyana Taylor, etc. — bring weight to otherwise schematic roles. In particular, Perfidia’s specter (played by Teyana Taylor) haunts the narrative; her choices ripple through Bob and Willa’s lives.
If I have a criticism: the film’s ambition sometimes outruns its grip. At moments, plot threads multiply faster than they’re resolved. There are tonal swings — humor, cruelty, melancholy, absurdity — and a few times I felt the film lost its footing.
Yet that, too, feels intentional. This is a world in chaotic motion; the machinery of power is messy, ideological fights are tangled, and lives don’t line up neatly.
So should you care about it? Absolutely — if you’re willing to ride the disorder, if you crave cinema that wants to confront both the personal and the political, even when it stumbles.
Music, Sound & Score
Jonny Greenwood returns to perform what many critics call one of the film’s crowning glories. His collaboration with Anderson is long established (dating back to There Will Be Blood), and here he pushes further into dissonance, tension, and emotion. (Pitchfork)
The score is rarely decorative — it often cuts like a blade, or creeps in like a wound. In action sequences, Greenwood’s music amplifies chaos rather than smoothing over it. In quieter moments, it lingers, shifts, unsettles. For me, Greenwood’s voice is one place where the film’s inner sadness and weight leak through most purely.
Sound design is equally bold: the clang of gates, muffled explosions, whispered conspiracies, ambient noise of cities and hideouts. The film doesn’t let silence be safe; even quieter scenes hum with tension.
One small but potent detail: the film uses “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised” (Gil Scott-Heron lyrics “Green Acres, Beverly Hillbillies, Hooterville Junction”) — weaving in historical resonance and critique. (IMDb) That choice, in context, reminds you this is a film aware of legacies and rebellions of the past.
Cinematography, Framing, Colour, Editing
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The film was shot on 35 mm VistaVision — a deliberate nod to classic, somewhat archaic spectacle. (Pitchfork) That choice matters: it gives images weight, grain, a physicality digital often lacks. The film breathes in light and shadow.
Colour: there’s a rich, saturated palette in key sequences, especially in revolutionary set pieces, but also somber, muted tones in exile, decay, absence. Juxtaposing vibrant and drained frames is a visual metaphor for revolution vs. waning hope.
Framing often places characters against architecture, walls, fences — emphasizing containment, surveillance, power structures. At other times, the frame breathes: open roads, vast skies, interiors that feel provisional.
Editing: this is not a film of taut minimal cuts. The pacing is bold — there are lulls, accelerations, tonal shifts. Some critics call it “fast, yet repetitive” — a paradox I felt too. (The Bulwark) But more often, the editing feels like a river with rapids: it carries you, splashes you, sometimes you gasp.
Transitions between time periods (the film spans sixteen years) feel jagged, but in an oddly coherent way: memory is not seamless.
Tone, Themes & Why It Matters
What is One Battle After Another trying to say? Many things, but I’ll focus on what hit me.
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Resistance is persistent, not heroic. The film suggests revolutions are not sudden, clean victories — they’re gradual, messy, contradictory.
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Power, surveillance, and violence become banal. The machinery of state control is depicted not as an exotic monster, but an everyday terror.
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Parenthood and legacy. Bob’s fight is not only external but deeply internal: he is trying to protect, educate, and sometimes betray Willa in the name of ideology.
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Memory, myth, and mythmaking. Who tells the story of rebellion? Which symbols survive, which fade?
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Liminal realism. The film preserves elements of the uncanny, satirical, and comic in its depiction of reality — this is not straightforward dystopia, it's a twisted parallel world.
Some critics have argued that Anderson doesn’t fully interrogate his own assumptions — that the film leans toward pleasing a particular audience or reaffirms some ideological comforts. (The Bulwark) That’s a fair critique. I felt that occasionally the moral lines seemed easier than in real life. But I also felt the film often acknowledged its own shadows, its uncertain middle.
For me, One Battle After Another matters because it refuses complacency. In a year flooded with sequels, safe franchises, it’s a risky, gasping war cry. It doesn’t ask you only to be entertained — it asks you to weigh, negotiate, break, and perhaps believe again.
What Works — and What Doesn’t (From My View)
Strengths (my favorites)Emotional gravity: The father-daughter axis haunts me, keeps me returning to the film’s core.
Visual ambition: VistaVision, bold framing, kinetic action—it’s cinema in its wildest form.
Music & sound: Greenwood and the design never let you rest, never let you forget.
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Energy and unpredictability: This is not a “safe” film. At many turns, you won’t see what comes next.
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Political relevance: In an era of polarization, the film feels timely without being cartoonish (mostly).
Weaknesses (ones I can’t ignore)
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Overreach & scatter: Sometimes I longed for a stronger, tighter spine.
Tone shifts: Jumps between satire, tragedy, absurdity, thriller — occasionally they jar.
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Character underdevelopment: Some supporting characters feel more like avatars than fully lived souls.
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Moral clarity: The film sometimes leans into certainty in its rhetoric, which undercuts its complexity.
But to me, those weaknesses are part of the film’s life, not fatal wounds.
Do You Have to Watch It?
If you asked me: I lean yes — if you are a cinephile, a politically curious soul, or someone who’s restless with formula. But if you prefer tight narrative, less abstraction, or want a movie that “makes sense” on first viewing, this might frustrate you.
The film rewards repeat viewings. It’s the kind of movie that houses its secrets in margins and shadows.
If you go in expecting a flawless manifesto, you might leave disappointed. But if you come in open, ready for disruption, One Battle After Another can be a rare experience.
Trivia & Behind-the-Scenes
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The film is loosely inspired by Thomas Pynchon’s Vineland, but Anderson adapts the core themes rather than literal plot. (The Washington Post)
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The film was shot on 35 mm VistaVision — a format largely abandoned in modern cinema — to achieve a classic cinematic heft. (Pitchfork)
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The Gil Scott-Heron lyrics (e.g. “Green Acres, Beverly Hillbillies, Hooterville Junction”) from “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised” are woven into the film. (IMDb)
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Critics note Anderson is perhaps pulling off his “first true thriller” in this work — a shift from his previous stylistic identity. (Cinemablend)
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Longtime Anderson-Greenwood collaborators means Greenwood had early access to footage and often tailored musical ideas around visuals. (Pitchfork)
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Pynchon’s fans were reportedly skeptical this film could “pull off” adapting his novel — yet some say Anderson succeeded in capturing at least the spirit. (The Washington Post)
Box Office & Commercial Reality
Let’s talk about the cold numbers — the place where idealism meets reality.
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The film opened domestically to ≈ US$22.4 million and global to about US$48.5 million (opening weekend). (Vulture)
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Against a reported budget of at least $130 million (some estimates as high as $175 million), the opening is underwhelming. (SlashFilm)
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It then crossed the US$100 million global mark in subsequent weeks: reports peg it at US$101.7 million globally (with $58.9 million international) by mid-October. (Variety)
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Some box office analysts already call it a flop (or at least a financial underperformance). Reasons: oversized budget, poor mass appeal, the difficulty of marketing such an unruly film. (SlashFilm)
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Critics of its financial fate argue that Anderson is not a commercial director, Leonardo DiCaprio (though still a cinema icon) may no longer guarantee blockbuster draws, and overseas box office is less rescuing than in past years. (SlashFilm)
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That said, the film held the top slot domestically on its opening weekend. (Vulture)
So: terrific reviews, yet serious commercial risk. That tension feels emblematic of the film’s own theme — pushing boundaries in a constrained system.
Conclusion (My Final Word)
One Battle After Another is not a movie you’ll casually forget. It is messy, bold, risky, conflicted — and in those very contradictions, it shows its blood.
I walked into the screening wary of hype. I walked out feeling I had seen something urgent, flawed, imperfect — which is more than many big films can claim these days.
Is it essential? Maybe not for everyone. But for those willing to be unsettled, to watch cinema that demands more than comfort — yes, this is one to insist upon.
So go watch it on the largest screen you can find. Sit with its silences and its explosions. Let it question your certainties. It might not change you entirely, but it may rearrange how you feel film and politics can meet.