In 'Magnolia,' director Paul Thomas Anderson uses verve and panache to create rich characters going about the everyday business of being human. By ANN HORNADAY SUN FILM CRITIC heroic sadness A ing Paul son's weaves through random on connectedness Thomas oversized acts its of "Magnolia," alienation, Ander- mus- way and spiritual grace. While not as fully realized as Anderson's last movie, "Boogie Nights," "Magnolia" is filmed with the same skillful abandon, and takes many more artistic risks. Throwing out all conventional notions of plot and narrative coherence, Anderson instead indulges his love of character. The result is a movie as fascinating for its flaws as for its considerable successes. "Magnolia" takes place over the course of one day in Southern California's San Fernando Valley - a place of sub-stardom and self-invention where a group of sad and desperate characters is facing down issues of life and death. Linda Partridge (Julianne Moore) madly scrambles to find painkillers while her husband Earl (Jason Robards) lies dying. His only company is a room full of dogs and a nurse.named Phil Parma (Philip Seymour Hoffman). Across town, Frank T.J. Mackey (Tom Cruise), a motivational speaker who heads an organization called "Seduce and Destroy" (his toll-free number is 1- 800-TAME-HER), spits out his vulgar, misogynist spiel in a series of TV ads and speaking gigs. Police officer Jim Kurring (John C. Reilly) discovers a murder in the course of a routine domestic dispute investigation. At the same time, the former star of a quiz show called "What Do Kids Know?" (William H. Macy) runs amok at the consumer electronics store where he now works. Meanwhile, this season's quiz show champ, Stanley Spector (Jeremy Blackman), copes with the pressures of child stardom while the show's host, Jimmy Gator (Philip Baker Hall), tries to resuscitate his relationship with his estranged daughter (Melora Walters). Before the day is out, these characters' stories will intersect in unexpected ways, culminating in an event of apocalyptic mysticism. "Magnolia" begins with a prologue about the role of fate, chance and coincidence in determining our lives, but that theme emerges as merely Anderson's conceit for watching his characters in extremis, as each of them comes to personal crisis and, finally, some kind of peace. There is no "story" driving "Magnolia," but Anderson succeeds in creating a great deal of narrative tension, chiefly through his use of music, which accompanies nearly every moment of the film. The movie opens with a terrific version of "One" sung by Aimee Mann, and her songs back up most of the film's key scenes. At one point, the characters even begin to sing along with the soundtrack in a sequence that would be cheesy if it weren't directed with such brio. Whether he's using Mann's songs or an aria from "Carmen," Anderson clearly aspires to operatic heights with the dialogue for the audience's atten"Magnolia." a Music constantly vies with tion, and every character has his or her spoken aria, wherein observations are shared and advice proffered. Robards, who gives an eerily convincing performance as the dying man, delivers a particularly breathtak- [See Magnolia, 4E]