INHERENT VICE: P.T. Anderson’s Most Underrated Film Explained

Examples include Roman Polanski’s Chinatown and Robert Altman’s The Long Goodbye. In Inherent Vice Anderson follows the path trodden by his older colleagues—the masters of cinema—yet at a certain point, he veers in a completely different direction, revising not only cinematic inspirations but also the American Dream and the history of the United States.

The Big Sleep

The reference to the classic 1946 crime film directed by Howard Hawks is not coincidental. It seems that Inherent Vice owes the most to this film starring Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall. Both Thomas Pynchon’s novel and Anderson’s screenplay similarly treat the main plot, which involves a detective’s investigation into a missing person. In both stories, the mentioned investigation stops mattering at a certain point due to the incomprehensible and ungraspable intrigue, which gradually expands into other subplots and characters. This is especially difficult for the protagonist of Inherent Vice, Larry “Doc” Sportello, who remains under the influence of drugs the entire time.

We meet Doc as he’s taking a nap—he is abruptly (or is he?) woken up from his sleep by his ex-girlfriend, Shasta. Doc and Shasta broke up some time ago, but he still can’t get over the loss; he loves her and hopes they will get back together. She tells him about her troubles and asks for his help in finding her new lover, real estate mogul Michael Z. Wolfmann. There’s no point in delving into the exact description of the situation she’s in—suffice to say, the case involves the wealthiest residents of Los Angeles, neo-Nazis, politicians, a former musician turned secret agent, an international heroin smuggling gang, and even an association of tax-evading dentists. Driven probably by the hope of rekindling his romance, Doc decides to help his beloved and begins the investigation.

Imagined Reality

Of course, it cannot be said with full certainty that everything in Inherent Vice is just his hallucination or dream. On the other hand, the director consistently narrates from Doc’s perspective, showing reality through his drug-altered point of view. Anderson avoids establishing shots, preventing the viewer from precisely orienting themselves within the film’s terrain and story. We see the protagonist wandering through the fog, changing costumes, and getting lost in testimonies. Interestingly, in the end, he manages to solve the case and bring the investigation to a close. This might seem improbable, given his state and the complexity of the intrigue. What’s more, he regains Shasta’s love and escapes with her into the unknown.

But how do new characters enter Doc’s life? As mentioned, Shasta wakes him from his sleep—which in itself might raise the question of whether the dream really ended and if the woman isn’t just a figment of his imagination. A bit later, we meet Detective Bigfoot—a tough guy who hates hippies and their antics. Before appearing in the film, Doc sees him on TV—in an absurd commercial where Bigfoot is dressed as a hippie. The next characters—Coy Harlingen, Wolfmann, Adrian Prussia—Doc first sees in photos (in a family album, newspaper, and police files) before meeting them in reality. The last shot shows Doc and Shasta together in a car, framed so that the car seems completely still. We don’t see passing scenery, only two motionless figures making plans for the future.

In this context, one particular moment in Inherent Vice stands out—the one where Doc receives a photo of a newborn baby born to a heroin-addicted mother. This is the only time the protagonist visibly reacts to anything—and even now, he does so with unnatural exaggeration.

Morality, Capitalism, and Paranoia

As established, Doc is a supporter and user of psychoactive substances. The Los Angeles police officers and other law enforcers don’t have much respect for him, which is constantly highlighted through verbal jabs and physical attacks. However, it turns out that he has a surprisingly strong moral backbone. He doesn’t care about money, and during his investigation, he helps several people purely out of ethical motives. He isn’t a saint; his methods can be judged differently—but he has his principles and sticks to them. In this context, the film is a rather biting critique of corruption, predatory capitalism, and power. Bigfoot, who initially seems like an incorruptible cop, ends up urging Doc to join him in stealing packages of heroin. FBI agents turn out to be incompetents. Penny, a lawyer who criticizes Doc, comes to him for a joint. Everyone around, in their own way, contributes to the operation of a powerful criminal organization—The Golden Fang.

However, there are several Golden Fangs. Firstly, it’s an association of dentists who wanted to evade paying high taxes. It’s also the name of a boat and a criminal group involved in drug smuggling. The paranoid atmosphere of the late 1960s and early 1970s affects all the characters, though their perceptions of a grand conspiracy often turn out to be exaggerated. That is, corruption, crime, and other problems exist, but the network of connections between them is much thinner and follows more convoluted paths. Interestingly, Inherent Vice fits well into the contemporary world. One of the main criminal activities in the film (and the novel) involves real estate market machinations. Thomas Pynchon’s book was published in 2009—fresh after the global crisis caused, among other things, by greedy bankers speculating with so-called derivative instruments in real estate trading. It seems capitalism never stops sinking its golden fangs into various aspects of everyday life.

What’s Up, Doc?

Thus, we look at the year 1970 from today’s perspective, and it turns out many things appear similar. Yet, the film, in the strangest, most unexpected way, expresses a longing for what was and a fear of what will be. Doc seems like a child wandering in the fog—as mentioned, Anderson portrays him like this in one of the scenes. He constantly hears comments about his immaturity and unseriousness. Viewed as a hippie, a druggie, and a loser, he turns out to be the most consistent and trustworthy person. Bigfoot, who makes several jabs at Doc, turns out to be a big child himself—when we meet his wife, she scolds him like a mother scolds a child. Respected dentist Rudy Blatnoyd is an infantile dandy playing with teenagers. Wolfmann runs from his problems and hides from the world. Penny, a prosecutor’s assistant, invites herself over to her ex-boyfriend’s place for pizza and weed. Finally, Shasta, mingling with influential players, comes to Doc for help, who seems to be the last bastion, a relic of the passing 1960s.

Moral, Capitalism, and Paranoia

Fact: Vitamin C is used in cosmetics as an ingredient in anti-aging products. When we meet Doc and his relationship with Shasta, we hear the song by CAN from 1972 in the background, with the lyrics: I’m losing, I’m losing, I’m losing my vitamin C. Could the director be suggesting Doc’s subconscious fear of the future? We meet him as a guy living in the past, and it doesn’t seem the entire story helps him move forward in any way. If we add to this the symbolic stillness during the final escape from the city, the conclusions come naturally.

Anderson, referring to film noir, deconstructs it. Unlike flagship productions of this genre, which inherently contains darkness and night in its name, Inherent Vice mostly takes place in bright, sunny daylight. The intrigue involving high-profile individuals is pushed to the background. The characters and their fears, expressed in various ways by Anderson, become paramount, as he leads the viewer by the nose, almost explicitly saying: don’t trust what you see.

The perfect candidate for a femme fatale turns out to be a lost girl. The detective meddling in other people’s affairs receives no lesson or punishment—on the contrary, he manages to help several people. Conspiracy theories are ridiculed, and so on. In one scene, when Doc enters a millionaire’s house, she asks if he likes the lighting. She adds that Jimmy Howe prepared it. James Wong Howe—one of the best Hollywood cinematographers, whose work spanned several decades. He was known as a master of light and realism, and his creative use of chiaroscuro helped shape the poetics of film noir, which Inherent Vice consciously flirts with—and betrays.