Licorice Pizza

Paul Thomas Anderson might be known for eccentric stories of uniquely dark and conflicted characters, but in Licorice Pizza, he proves equally adept at taking a well-worn formula and making it feel refreshing.

Expressive performances and meticulously detailed period re-creation support this rambunctious yet multilayered exploration of teenage angst and sexual awakening that transcends coming-of-age clichés.

Chronicling young dreamers on the fringes of fame, the film takes place in the summer of 1973 in the San Fernando Valley, where Alana (Alana Haim) is a photography assistant during school picture day for aspiring teenage entrepreneur Gary (Cooper Hoffman), who has also dabbled in acting.

The setup feels awfully familiar, starting with the awkward meet-cute and the uncomfortable first date. “I’m not gonna forget you, just like you’re not gonna forget me,” Gary forecasts about their forthcoming exploits.

Alana radiates confidence yet masks an internal vulnerability that keeps her drawn to his offbeat, hustling self-assurance as a sort of social safety net. The romantic sparks are lukewarm, much to Gary’s chagrin.

Yet despite an age difference that’s only addressed comically, they find each other’s sense of impulsive adventure and rebellious mischief alluring. Plus, their love-hate relationship becomes a subtle emotional power struggle that neither can resist. Their oddball partnership includes run-ins with some washed-up stars, brief stints selling waterbeds and pinball machines, and flirtations with politics.

Rather than rose-colored glasses, Anderson (There Will Be Blood) views the era through amber filters. Gently modulating humor and pathos, the film overflows with nostalgic charm thanks in part to an evocative vintage soundtrack and abundant pop-culture references.

Hoffman (son of the late Philip Seymour Hoffman) and Haim (from the eponymous pop band) convey a natural chemistry in a pair of breakthrough portrayals. You don’t have to identify with these characters to sympathize as they navigate an uncertain future. Among the scene-stealing cameos are Bradley Cooper as a drugged-out movie producer and Sean Penn as an aging icon who resembles William Holden.

Examining the travails of his young Hollywood hopefuls with more heartfelt innocence than gritty realism, Anderson’s heartfelt screenplay takes too many aimless detours, but remains endearing even when it turns more far-fetched in the second half.

However, Licorice Pizza winds up taking on the same freewheeling spirit as its characters, finding a winning recipe in mismatched ingredients.

Rated R, 133 minutes.