Magnolia. The title evokes images of the melodramas of the ‘50s, once called “women’s pictures,” and now termed “chick flicks.” However, clocking in at just over three bottom-numbing hours, spanning over ten major characters, and brandishing a tart-tongued, brazenly ambitious script whose dialogue is liberally littered with the f-word and other profanities, writer-director Paul Thomas Anderson’s Magnolia is no shrinking violet.

The film spans one day in the San Fernando Valley and nimbly bounces back and forth between a number of cannily crafted characters. A rich man (Jason Robards) lies at home on his deathbed, tended by a compassionate nurse (Philip Seymour Hoffman) who is often at odds with the elderly man’s emotionally unraveling trophy wife (Julianne Moore). A strutting self-help guru (Tom Cruise) peddles his chauvinistic “Seduce and Destroy” program to emasculated men. TV game show host Jimmy Gator (Philip Baker Hall) discovers he has cancer and finds his condition intruding on his abilities to emcee his popular series, “What Do Kids Know?” One of the reigning whiz kids (Jeremy Blackman) on the program grapples with the increasing stress from the show and pressure from a pushy father (Michael Bowen). Gator’s daughter (Melora Waiters), battling a cocaine addiction, chafes against her father’s attempts at reconciliation. One of Gator’s former stars (William H. Macy), now grown up, is a sad sack reliving his glory days of the past yet unsure of his place in the present. Meanwhile, perhaps at the center of it all, is a kind-hearted beat cop (John C. Reilly) just trying to do his job.

Anderson has noted that his film’s title references both the flower and a San Fernando Valley street, yet also alludes to “Magonia,” a mythical site above the firmament. Indeed, the movie revolves around a juxtaposition of the sacred and the secular, the profound and the profane. Nearly all of Anderson’s characters are battling some kind of personal demon, whether it be a sin they’ve committed against another person (unfaithfulness and adultery are recurring issues) or one they are committing against themselves. In fact, sin and forgiveness figure heavily here, and if one doubts the biblical portents of Magnolia, there is some key foreshadowing of the crucial climax when a member of the quiz show’s studio audience flashes a sign of “Exodus 8:2” (I’ll give no further hints on the finale, other than to say it may drive some viewers over the edge).

Now playing at Bethel Cinema, Magnolia is the type of film that has a polarizing effect on audiences: you’ll either love it or you quite probably will loathe it. Anderson is so persistent and uncompromising in pursuit of his daring vision for the film that he leaves very little room for compromise in the viewer. The aforementioned climax is a key component of this unwavering vision, but his depiction of the interconnectedness of things — there’s no such thing as coincidence, says this movie — also includes a storytelling device of using Aimee Mann songs to convey the thematic pulse of various points of the film, including a sing-along sequence to “Wise Up,” that also may marginalize viewers.

Through it all, Magnolia — rated R for excessive language, some drug use, and sexuality — is a sprawling tale and a unique offering from an unquestionably talented filmmaker. Chock full of characters with plenty of baggage to go around, Magnolia features outstanding ensemble acting work — with Cruise deservedly receiving much notice for his stand-out performance in a showy role (for a major star, Cruise is still underrated as an actor) — and Anderson brings each character to some form of a critical emotional precipice. It’s not for everyone, but Magnolia may be just short of brilliant.