Paul Thomas Anderson’s latest film, One Battle After Another, has arrived with a bang, igniting debate and drawing praise—and plenty of controversy—across the American cultural landscape. Released in October 2025, the film marks a return to form for Anderson, blending his signature audacity with a sharp political edge. Critics and audiences alike are calling it one of the most urgent and exhilarating cinematic experiences of the year, while detractors denounce it as dangerously provocative. But what’s behind all the fuss?
At nearly three hours, One Battle After Another is nothing if not ambitious. According to Baltimore Magazine, Warner Bros. gave Anderson carte blanche and a substantial budget, and the result is a film that’s as sprawling as it is intense—a roller coaster ride in every sense. The movie is loosely based on Thomas Pynchon’s 1990 novel Vineland, but Anderson, drawing inspiration from Robert Altman, Stanley Kubrick, Quentin Tarantino, and even Wes Anderson, has crafted something uniquely his own. The film’s style is a marriage of Anderson’s earlier, looser works like Inherent Vice and Licorice Pizza with the disciplined craftsmanship of Phantom Thread and There Will Be Blood. In short, the auteur is firing on all cylinders.
Central to the film’s success is its cast, led by Leonardo DiCaprio as “Ghetto” Pat Calhoun—a reluctant member of the left-wing resistance group French 75. DiCaprio’s performance has been widely praised, with Baltimore Magazine calling him “America’s best living actor.” Pat is an explosives expert, skilled at creating diversions but ambivalent about the revolutionary cause. He’s drawn in by his partner, Perfidia Beverly Hills (played by Teyana Taylor), a fierce and uncompromising activist. When Perfidia becomes pregnant, Pat yearns for a quieter life, but Perfidia’s devotion to the movement—particularly her efforts to protect immigrants from an ICE-like agency—runs too deep. One of the film’s most indelible images is Perfidia, heavily pregnant and wielding a machine gun, exclaiming, “Bitch, I feel like Tony Montana!”
The narrative then leaps forward sixteen years. Pat, now hiding under the name Bob Ferguson, is raising their daughter, Willa (Chase Infiniti), alone in a secluded redwood forest. Bob’s life is marked by paranoia and regret—he forbids Willa from owning a cellphone, a rule she inevitably breaks, with dangerous consequences. Their fragile peace is shattered by the arrival of Colonel Steven J. Lockjaw (Sean Penn), a sadistic military officer whose obsession with Perfidia and personal ambitions drive the film’s central conflict. Lockjaw, now seeking entry into the white supremacist Christmas Adventurers Club, must determine whether Willa is his biological daughter—and eliminate her if she is. The club’s chilling motto, “Hail St. Nick!” and its members’ rhetoric about “making the world safe and pure,” are disturbingly close to contemporary far-right discourse.
As World Socialist Web Site details, the film’s depiction of anti-immigrant hysteria and militarized police raids is both convincing and deeply unsettling. Scenes of heavily armed thugs breaking into homes, abducting and interrogating suspects, and abusing immigrants are presented with an immediacy that feels ripped from today’s headlines. The film draws a direct line from the reactionary policies of the Obama, Trump, and Biden administrations to the present moment, underscoring the continuity of state-backed repression. “This is not science fiction or ‘dystopia,’” the review asserts. “It is occurring in the US at present, in Chicago, Los Angeles and dozens of other locations.”
Bob’s desperate fight to rescue Willa forms the film’s emotional core. He’s aided by Sergio St. Carlos (Benicio del Toro), a Zen-like karate teacher who operates an underground railroad for undocumented immigrants. “I got a little Latino Harriet Tubman situation going on at my place,” St. Carlos tells Bob, and indeed, his home is a sanctuary for dozens of women and children. Willa, meanwhile, is sheltered by Deandra (Regina Hall), an old comrade of her parents, at a convent in the hills. There, Willa learns the truth about her mother’s betrayal—a revelation that shatters her understanding of her family’s history.
Lockjaw’s pursuit is relentless. He kidnaps Willa, forcibly conducts a DNA test, and sets off a harrowing chase through the Northern California wilderness. The film’s action sequences—particularly a much-discussed undulating chase scene—are executed with Anderson’s trademark verve and confidence. But One Battle After Another is more than a thriller; it’s a blistering political drama that refuses to flinch from the realities of contemporary America. The film’s villains are not cartoonish, but chillingly plausible, echoing the language and tactics of real-world white supremacist and anti-immigrant groups.
The critical response has been largely positive, though not without reservations. The Hollywood Reporter described the film as “a refreshing jolt” for its willingness to scrutinize the motivations behind the current militarization of American cities and the empowerment of ICE. Michelle Goldberg in The New York Times wondered whether such an “antifascist film” could even be produced in Hollywood today. Veteran critic Owen Gleiberman, writing in Variety, called the film “a wildly entertaining, awesomely unpredictable screwball political thriller that on some level forces you to confront…the fate of our fucking country.”
Yet, not everyone is convinced. Some critics, particularly from the right, have condemned One Battle After Another as glorifying violence and justifying lawlessness. David Marcus on the Fox News website labeled it “an ill-timed apologia for left-wing violence,” while Armond White in the National Review decried its “celebration of the insipid, heretical, and violent activities of the liberal past and present.” For many supporters, however, such criticisms only underscore the film’s importance and courage in tackling issues that mainstream politics and media often sidestep.
Despite its length and occasional narrative meandering—criticisms even some fans acknowledge—Anderson’s film is being promoted as a masterpiece in several quarters, including the New York Times. It has already exceeded box office expectations, earning $68 million worldwide. The palpable sense of relief among progressive critics is telling: in an era when political opposition is often muted or marginalized, a major Hollywood film has dared to confront the specter of authoritarianism head-on.
For all its flaws, One Battle After Another is a film that demands to be seen and debated. Its blend of family drama, political thriller, and biting social commentary offers a rare, clear-eyed look at the anxieties and battles shaping America in 2025. Anderson’s vision is messy, sometimes contradictory, but always urgent—reminding us that, in cinema as in life, the fight for justice is never truly over.
