In Anticipation of The Fantastic Mr. Fox

Much like my history with Quentin Tarantino's movies, my history with Wes Anderson's dates back to the mid-1990s.



One day in 1996 (perhaps 1997) Bart Rachmil, my roommate at the time and the only other person who appreciates Anderson as much as I do, came home with a borrowed VHS of Anderson's debut, Bottle Rocket. We watched it, and were more or less in awe. To this day, when I watch it I feel good, as if my possibilities are endless (much like they were when I was saw it at age 22. Of course I was in my first semester of law school, and, though I didn't know it yet, it was both the last place I wanted to be and the first of many decisions that would actually limit my possibilities).

In 1998 we eagerly anticipated his follow-up, Rushmore. An anticipation that probably has gone unmatched in the decade-plus since. As for living up to an expectation--it will NEVER be matched. I saw it in the theater twice, something I rarely do. Bill Murray's role as Mr. Bloom sparked his career's resurgence; no Rushmore, no Lost In Translation. Rushmore is probably my favorite movie. I say "probably" because I'm a pussy. It is my favorite movie. The key to Rushmore was the co-stars: a detailed, personal, living fairy tale-type universe (hinted at in Bottle Rocket) and a prep-school Don Quixote.

The Royal Tenenbaums followed in 2001 and, in my estimation, didn't quite live up to Rushmore--though in saying so I mean to take nothing away from it. I have the impression that many people prefer The Royal Tenenbaums to Rushmore. I presume they hold that preference because they saw The Royal Tenenbaums first; I can understand that one's exposure to one before the other could give the edge to the first exposure to an Anderson-created universe. Still, I feel Rushmore's superior but making that point is not my goal today. The key to Tenenbaums was Anderson's ability to get so much out of a larger cast filled with higher-profile actors.

Three years later Anderson brought The Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou. Bill Murray was back, but Owen Wilson didn't share the writing credit--Noah Baumbach of The Squid and The Whale fame did. The interregnum seemed longer than that between Rushmore and The Royal Tenenbaums, such was my jones for a new Anderson flick. In all sorts of ways this was a more ambitious production than the previous two movies, and in all sorts of ways it managed to disappoint people. The budget was higher, parts were shot on location in Italy and in large, expensive sets. It had Jeff Goldblum and Willem Dafoe--like I said, ambitious. Many think he tried and failed to achieve an emotional depth with the relationship between Wilson and Murray's characters. But these same people were going to be disappointed no matter what. I've spoken to them, I've read their reviews. They're to be dismissed, trust me.

More often than not, these people will only see the movie once.  Like all his movies, repeated viewings help unfold the richness of the whole production--the acting, the production design, the wardrobe, the dialogue. He is a filmmaker. He's not cranking out movies so he can rake in the bucks and show the moneymen they can count on him to bring in the 14 year olds. He's making movies that will stand the test of time and get better with age. Just like the movies he reveres. A craftsman, if you will, in a land full of cheap stucco McMansions.  So I say to those who render judgment on his movies after one viewing: he's making them for us, not you.

Ok, wait a sec--I'm no smoke-blowing lackey--take a look at my review of Tarantino's latest.

Thanks. I think you meant that.

First, The Life Aquatic requires multiple viewings to appreciate the dense panoply of pleasures that Anderson provides. Like Jackie Brown, The Life Aquatic is a lion-in-winter story. Those aren't the easiest to love--it's not sprawling tale of an idiosyncratic family or the coming-of-age story of an awkward by with an explosive imagination.  It's about a dude with a giant ego who's been living a little boy's dream for several decades, making shitty personal decisions along the way.  He gets his chance to do it right this one last time and, like Robert Forster's Max Cherry in Jackie Brown, he does it.



The key to the Life Aquatic is Anderson's deft combination of the detailed, personal, living fairy tale-type universe, a large cast of higher-profile actors, and an aquatic Don Quixote.

Another three years, another Anderson movie: The Darjeeling Limited.  The emotional resonance that people looked for in The Life Aquatic--the proof of maturation that would have allowed them to crown him "Generation's Best Filmmaker", well, it showed up one film too late to satisfy those people. I happen to think this worked out for the best because it knocked him off a path that would bring exponentially increasing expectations.

Emboldened by turning the difficult, ambitious Life Aquatic shoot into a success, Anderson took his traveling circus to India (I've watched enough Amazing Race to know that making anything happen in India is no joke).

Anderson reaches deeper into his characters this time by having only three main characters: the brothers Whitman: Francis (Owen Wilson), Peter (Adrian Brody) and Jack (Jason Schwartzman).

Estranged since their father's funeral a year ago, they're forced to reconcile on a train trip across India orchestrated by Francis for the undisclosed purpose of tracking down their mother who's up in the mountains Christianizing locals. The boys spend the film numbing their pain with the best over-the-counter Indian opiates they can get their hands on.

I suspect that because I, my brother, and my mother have never been the same since my dad died--and I've also done my share of pain-numbing--this movie hit home more than most. The Whitmans' mother, played by Anjelica Houston, delivers a line that pretty well sums up how to deal with the unexpected death of a loved one:  "He's gone and we'll never get over it. And that's ok."

Maybe you haven't had to deal with this. But it's true. People want to tell you that the pain subsides with time, and that's true, but it fails to mention a painful truth: relative to other bad stuff that has happened or will happen in your life, the unexpected, premature death of a loved one will never hurt any less. Nor should it. And that's ok. How much you loved that person, and how much of your life that person will miss will never change. So why should you have to get over it? All you have to do is get on with it.

Sigh.

I'm aware his hasn't been the most objective summary of Wes Anderson's films. From me, it never could be. I love him too much.

And that's ok.
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