More on Wes Anderson
I was having a conversation this morning with somebody who didn’t like Royal Tenenbaums: “It just didn’t go anywhere.” I see her point. Wes Anderson is a self-absorbed filmmaker of self-absorbed people. A lot of people have complained that he cares more about the wallpaper patterns than the acting. On the DVD of Tenenbaums, there’s an interview with Gene Hackman in which the actor describes his own discomfort with Anderson’s style — the way he had to ignore all the, the stuff to turn in his performance.
I still love the movie. I love the energy that narcissists can produce around themselves — the movies devote themselves to big personalities. They are fantasias of ego. I don’t mean Anderson’s own ego; I mean that Anderson’s lens shows us a world twisted by the personality of his characters, and in that world the most important thing about the Indian funeral, for example, is not the death, not the way the Indian characters feel, not even really the way the protagonists feel, but the way the protagonists can dress to match the color scheme. It’s borderline offensive. But it’s also entertaining, a Brooklyn-warp, a watercolor of the damaged.
It also works as light parody. In Darjeeling Limited, Bill Murray (who has no lines), runs to catch the Darjeeling Limited, and misses it. It feels like a reference to Razor’s Edge. In that movie, the protagonist has survived World War I, and the journey to India is taken very seriously as critique of the world at hand. In this movie, it’s not clear that there’s any merit to this trip beyond the emotions expressed by some odd characters. It’s funny, but the humor is subtle in all sorts of ways that Wes Anderson films mostly aren’t. There’s a central peacock feather ritual devised by some guru that is hilariously anticlimatic. There is portent and fuss and not-very-convincing reconciliation. The epiphany in this movie feels like the deep realization that we’ve been accessorizing all wrong.
To enjoy the movie, you have to love adornment and be skeptical of essences in ways that the main characters are not. You have to be able to appreciate assholes. And you have to be willing to see a story as a vehicle for serving up visions of a more beautiful universe. I’ll take that bargain any day.
2 Responses to “More on Wes Anderson”
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(August lives, yay.)
It’s been my intention to avoid judging Anderson until I’ve at least sat all the way through one of his pieces, thinking I should give Rushmore a shot if nothing else.
The parts I’ve caught (pieces of Tannenbaums and of LIfe Aquatic) seemed uncomfortably like a closed-in had some of that aesthetic you described, something like a closed-in Victorian den or a jumble sale table. I found it all a little claustrophobic. I imagine opening up landscapes would help.
K (and some assholes are better than others)
Hey Keif,
I live as Turkey dies. Rushmore is less claustrophobic, and also quite charming. I rented it the other night. It doesn’t feel quite so obsessive, and the Bill Murray character is inspired.
But then, I love Tenenbaums.
Always happy to see you.