Paper Moon (1973, Peter Bogdanovich) (Patreon)

87/100

At least second viewing, last seen 25+ years ago. "Exasperated adult compelled to care for precocious kid; later, they bond" has long been one of my least favorite subgenres, with only Zonca's Julia (which cheerfully torches any cloying aspects) qualifying as an exception. I'd forgotten about Paper Moon, though, and now find that I can't make a credible case for it as subversive or idiosyncratic or otherwise non-conforming. Fits the template to a T. It's just great. What the hell happened to Bogdanovich immediately afterward isn't clear to me—I haven't yet seen the three films maudits he made before finally rebounding with Saint Jack—but he was just on fire ca. 1971-73, having seemingly internalized the methods of every legendary director he'd interviewed. What's Up, Doc? is admittedly a straightforward Bringing Up Baby homage, and its manic screwball energy does feel mannered (though that doesn't make it any less hilarious). But The Last Picture Show and Paper Moon, while very distinct tonally, share an uncanny sense of looking old-fashioned—in their editing rhythms and mise-en-scène, not merely their absence of color—without seeming to directly mimic their Golden Age influences. Scorsese and Malick and Altman were ascendant at the time, and it's impossible to imagine any of them cutting from Addie impulsively giving a bible away, and Moses' glance of irritation at her, to an identical setup with Moses now alone at the door and Addie back at the car, crouched down in order to appear as small within the frame as possible. That's definitely not New Hollywood, but neither is it quite Old Hollywood. It's an inspired choice by someone who's learned from the masters.

And the confidence! Bogdanovich doesn't bother to explain the cash-register scam, though it happens so quickly and casually that I had to go back and watch it a second time to grasp how it works. He engineers a high-stakes wrestling match, resolves it with a single well-placed kick, then just has Moses wink at Addie by way of implicit explanation. (Somehow that wink successfully conveys an unspoken backstory.) Best of all, he recognizes that we're awaiting the emotional crisis that will inevitably occur once Moses and Addie reach St. Joseph—will he insist on dropping her off with her aunt and uncle, as planned, even though they've since grown close (in their mutually ornery way)?—and proceeds to speedily but indirectly end the suspense:

Moses: Well, we're in Missouri, anyway.
Addie: What'll we do now? Drop some twenties?
Moses: How much money we got?
Addie: 837 and some change. 42 cents, I think.
Moses: Well, we're just outside of St. Joe, ain't we?
Addie (angrily): So what?
Moses: So. It's a big town, ain't it? We can do better than twenties. 

As the Twitter prompts goes: Tell me we're sticking together without telling me we're sticking together. This exchange occurs when the film has only 13 minutes left to go, making it seem plausible that this subtle declaration of love is the final word. (More remarkable confidence: We never do learn whether Moses is Addie's father. Hard to imagine a contemporary studio not insisting that the question be answered, even if the answer is No.) That screenwriter Alvin Sargent—who apparently diverges sharply from Joe David Brown's source novel in the home stretch—manages to get us back to the anticipated crisis over the course of those 13 minutes...well, that's an expert con of its own.

Consistently riotous ("They're shooting at us!" "But they're missing!"), gorgeous to behold (shoutout to László Kovács), touching without ever crossing the line into mawkish, devoid of a single moment that doesn't feel purposeful and skillful, anchored by Ryan O'Neal's slightly sleazy charm and his daughter's improbable self-possession—what's not to adore? Two very small things. (1) Why give Trixie Delight a surprisingly lovely moment of dignity and pathos—begging Addie to please let her have a little fun before it all goes to shit like it inevitably does for her—and then immediately revert to treating her as a figure of ridicule? Couldn't enjoy Addie and Imogene's machinations with the hotel desk clerk, as I felt too sorry for Trixie by that point. (2) Similarly, I don't think I'm meant to be concerned about Addie's aunt and uncle, but her aunt is so insanely nice, so giddily excited to see Addie and eager to care for her, that I can't help but imagine her anguish upon finding the girl gone. That's not to say that I require a 100% feel-good ending—it's typical of this film that the father(?)-daughter reunion is predicated on Addie demanding her original $200—but surely there was a way to avoid creating an innocent victim.

That's all I've got in the way of complaint. Pure pleasure otherwise, start to finish. I'd happily sit down and watch it again right now.