14 June 2003
(This is a two-part series. The other part is about Paul Thomas Anderson.)
Wes Anderson has a knack for the offbeat comedy with the un-cool characters. His main strengths are his writing, on which he collaborates with Owen Wilson, and his soundtrack selections. He’s like Cameron Crowe in that the soundtracks to his films are more compilation CDs — no, not CDs, most of his chosen music is from the Sixties and Seventies, so tapes — created by a cool friend than anything else. (In fact, while writing this I slapped some Nick Drake on. Fly is used in The Royal Tenenbaums.)
Of course, one thing that helps me appreciate his films is that before I saw them, I hadn’t heard a lot about them. That helps because I have an almost allergic reaction to hype and high critical praise, so any film that has been hyped a lot has to be that bit better to get my attention and affection.
Anderson’s sense of humour is sharp but subdued, which won’t be to everyone’s taste. Remarkably, such is his consistency that each of his three films has a case for being his best. So here’s a quick guide to them.
The breakthrough for Anderson, Wilson (Owen), and Wilson (Luke), this film was effectively about a bungled heist. It’s about as far from Reservoir Dogs as it’s possible to get, though.
Originally a black-and-white short, now available on the Wilson Brothers website, it tells the story of Dignan and Anthony, friends out to commit a robbery and get rich. To this end they, with Bob, a pathetic friend of theirs with rich parents, seek the help of Mr Henry — a master criminal according to Dignan, the man who used to employ Dignan to cut lawns according to Bob.
The childlike desire to be a criminal burns strongly within Dignan, and Owen Wilson’s infectiously enthusiastic performance is perfectly suited to the role. Anthony doesn’t seem too enthusiastic about anything, at least not until he meets a Paraguayan maid at a motel and falls in love with her.
Surprisingly, the film’s most poignant moments revolve around Dignan, when reality intrudes on his world. This shouldn’t work, but does, because despite being a rather absurd comedy, the cast play it straight. It was mainly a film made by friends at the time and this shows, because the characters are written to fit the actors.
In this film Anderson really set his stall out: he’s going to make films about slightly weird, reasonably intelligent white guys in cities or suburbia, that have a sharp but off-kilter sense of humour (the films, not the characters). If you don’t like it, and it seems quite a few people don’t, then you don’t.
Bottle Rocket’s main flaw is that it is a bit raw, as you’d expect when the two stars and director are all in their first feature film. The writing isn’t as polished as in either of Anderson’s other two films and the pacing is uneven, which isn’t helped by the thin strand holding plot and script together. However, it is laugh-out-loud funny almost all the way through and so great to watch friends.
The most critically well received, bridging the gap between the low-budget Bottle Rocket and the massive cast of The Royal Tenenbaums. It’s a simple story of a high-school student becoming infatuated with a teacher at his school, with added complication from his friend and mentor, a wealthy but unhappy businessman who also becomes interested in the teacher.
Max Fischer is that student, a failure academically but ambitious and driven, with youthful confidence to burn. He belongs to every extra-curricular club there is at Rushmore Academy, the private school he attends, often in the role of founder or president.
Rushmore reminds me a lot of Ghost World (although it was released before Ghost World). Unlike other teen comedies — by which I mean comedies featuring teens — it doesn’t focus on getting pop culture details right, and the humour isn’t brash and crude. Rather it chooses the obvious but less-popular route of focusing on character; Max isn’t totally likable, nor is he a complete oik. Anderson’s ability to blend genuine characters with outlandish events is at its best in the feud that develops between Max and Herman, the steel tycoon who Max sees as his rival for the affections of Miss Cross, the teacher.
To be honest, it’s hard for me to find fault with Rushmore because I love it. It’s like your dream partner in film form. If I’m being critical, then it probably doesn’t have as many moments of hilarity as The Royal Tenenbaums and Bottle Rocket, and its final third drags a bit. But then even if the final third does drag, the near-as-damnit closing scene, a lavish school play set in Vietnam, is absolutely magnificent and worth a little watch-checking.
With the previously alluded-to mega cast, this could have been an overblown disaster from Anderson. The Wilson brothers and Bill Murray are back, joined by Anderson debutants Angelica Huston, Ben Stiller, Gwyneth Paltrow, Gene Hackman, and Danny Glover.
The Royal Tenenbaums is far grander than his previous work. It’s got a style that verges on the show-offy, with narration from Alec Baldwin and characters that are this close to being cardboard cut-outs, all wrapped together as a children’s book with chapters. It’s about a wayward father’s attempts to reconcile things with his wife and three children, each of which was a child prodigy before losing direction later in life. Margot was a playwright, Chas a scientist and financial whiz-kid, and Richie was a tennis champion and painter, although his technique never developed. There’s also Eli Cash, who spent much of his childhood with Richie Tenenbaum (including permission to sleep over at their house) and is now a successful novelist.
Ideas and invention abound in this film, with the usual Anderson glut of stand-out scenes, including a marriage proposal ‘for tax purposes.’ Richie ‘Baumer’ Tenenbaum is the focus of two genuinely affecting scenes in a comedy that elsewhere is only off-white, not black. There’s his final tennis match, a public monument to futile despair, and an attempted suicide (to the backing of Elliot Smith).
In fact, that’s probably the problem with The Royal Tenenbaums. These two scenes contain a humanity that’s found in abundance in other Anderson films, but not so here. The deliberate detachment of the direction and the sheer number of characters leaves it funny but mostly less memorable than Bottle Rocket or Rushmore.