$175 million to tell you what you already know

One Battle After Another had a $175 million budget and won Best Picture. But what was it really about? It definitely wasn’t the story the movie tried to tell.

Paul Thomas Anderson is a very talented director. I didn’t know who he was until I saw OBAA, but that’s not the point. The real issue is what happened when Warner Bros. gave him $175 million, brought together Leonardo DiCaprio, Sean Penn, and Benicio Del Toro, and approved what turned out to be a sermon.

The film is called a black comedy, but it isn’t funny at all. Even by accident. The first 15 minutes are so self-righteous they almost feel like a parody, but the movie doesn’t seem to realize it. After that, there are 147 more minutes of revolutionary politics, underground railroads, villains similar to ICE agents, and white supremacists who greet each other with “Hail Saint Nick.” What’s the message supposed to be? Are we all beyond saving?

Here’s what really happened at the box office.

The film opened with $22 million, which is considered strong for an Anderson movie, or so I’ve heard. But the next weekend, it dropped by 50% and lost to a Taylor Swift concert film. In the end, it made $209 million worldwide, with a $175 million production budget and $70 million spent on marketing. Critics loved it, and Rotten Tomatoes gave it a 94%.

It feels like critics and audiences saw two completely different movies.

Critics get credit for noticing a film’s intentions. Audiences, on the other hand, get nothing, even though they paid for their tickets. Critics see a movie about revolution, racial justice, and generational trauma and label it Important. Regular viewers watch the same film and wonder when something will happen that doesn’t feel like an assignment.

Hollywood keeps funding these kinds of movies because they think it works commercially, but does it really? It doesn’t seem to. The real reason is that it works within a certain culture—the one made up of people who create films and give each other awards. In that world, political seriousness is seen as artistic merit. They also believe that if the audience feels uncomfortable, the film is doing its job, that confusion means depth, and that leaving the theater feeling vaguely guilty means you got your money’s worth.

A truly urgent political film doesn’t need $175 million. It needs a clear sense of purpose. Anderson got that huge budget because DiCaprio was involved, and DiCaprio joined because this was a prestige project aimed at winning awards. The money wasn’t used to serve the story. Instead, the story was there to make the spending seem justified. And that’s not even counting the tax credits California gave out so this movie could be filmed there.

So you end up with a cast featuring Sean Penn, Leonardo DiCaprio, and Benicio Del Toro, plus other big-name actors who show up for just a few minutes without adding much to the plot. The production design, the fancy cameras, and the Jonny Greenwood score all make a big show of themselves. It looks and sounds important, but actually sitting through 162 minutes in the theater feels very different.

The audience, who came in with a couple of hours to spare and some goodwill, got a sermon instead of a movie. The sermon might be right—white supremacy is bad, immigration detention is inhumane, and older men protect their power at everyone else’s expense. All true. But the audience already knew this and probably agreed. They didn’t need $175 million just to be told what they already believed.

At the Oscars press room last night, a reporter asked Anderson how a Best Picture winner reflects the mood of the times. Anderson sighed deeply and said, “I thought we were supposed to be partying.”

The man who spent $175 million telling everyone what to think about the world didn’t even want to talk about it. That’s pretty sad.

Anyway, this film will end up being taught in film schools, and eventually, people will say that audience disappointment just means a lack of intellectual sophistication.

I used to think Crash was the worst Best Picture winner in Oscar history. Apparently, I was wrong.