So I saw Magnolia back in the theatres in 1999, and it blew me away, instantly rocketing onto my personal best movies list. But while I know I’ve watched it on DVD since then, it’s been a minute — I think the last time I saw it was 2002. And I know quite definitely that I don’t trust my old judgments around movies; my tastes have changed enough over the decades that I treat things I used to love as just recommendations from a trusted friend.

But on rewatch, I can confirm that it remains an excellent movie. What I always remembered liking about it is the way that it takes this sprawling cast of complicated, fucked-up people, brings them each to a crisis, and then grants them an unearned grace. And… yeah, it’s still extremely that. Maybe even more overtly than I remembered, with a monologue near the end from John C. Reilly where he declaims, “Well, that’s the tough part. What can we forgive?”

And what this also remains, again maybe even more than I remember, is an actors’ showcase. When this came out, a whole big Thing was how Tom Cruise was condescending to be in this artsy movie, and humbly insisted that it be billed and marketed as an ensemble piece rather than as a Tom Cruise star vehicle. Watching it now, it’s like fucking of course it’s an ensemble movie, because this isn’t just Tom Cruise and the seven dwarfs, he’s in a movie with Philip Seymour Hoffman, Julianne Moore, Jason Robards, John C. Reilly, William H. Macy, and Philip Baker Hall. Even small parts are loaded with talent, with Luis Guzmán playing a contestant on a game show, Felicity Huffman a staffer on that show, and bit parts from Alfred Molina and Patton Oswalt(!) among others.

A thing which I (quite understandably) hadn’t really noticed back in the day is the degree to which this is extremely a nineties movie. It’s working in the same mode as like David Foster Wallace or any of that maximalist post-ironic stuff, with its arch framing narration, weather forecast act breaks, and “this is the part in the movie” meta dialogue, not to mention its Aimee Mann soundtrack complete with full-cast singalong.

But what really stands out to me now is how propulsive the movie is. It’s solidly over three hours long, which would make you think it’s going to be a slow, stately film; but it is extremely not. It moves forward relentlessly, with a spare rhythmic musical score setting the pace, cutting between characters to sustain energy. I feel bad for anyone in the theater who had to take a pee break, because there’s not a slack moment in the movie. It’s not just that scenes are great, the whole thing is written and assembled with incredible craft. Keeping this many plates in the air narratively and not letting any of them feel neglected or extraneous is a real feat.

So… yeah, I’m a lot older and more jaded than I was a quarter century ago, and it doesn’t hit quite as hard for me now as it did then. (And then plus, I’ve already seen it, and you can’t re-feel the shock of that ending in the same holy-shit way.) But I still love it, and am comfortable leaving it on my personal list of great movies. I feel like even as Paul Thomas Anderson is seen as a great filmmaker these days, this movie has somehow slipped in esteem; it feels underrated at this point.

(Edit later: Although not that underrated, I guess, because I belatedly realized this is actually on the S&S list at #185.)