Last night I finally made it out to see Wes Anderson’s latest offering. The thing that I can say most definitively about it is that it is a Wes Anderson film.
In each of his previous films Anderson has built a world in miniature. His attention to the visual minutiae of these pseudo-realistic worlds often overshadows his study of his characters. This is on no level an indictment of Anderson as a storyteller or director. It seems as though Anderson sets out to create a playground for his characters, give them some broad plot outlines and then sets them lose and film the ensuing beautiful chaos. The Darjeeling Limited showcases some of Anderson’s best visual direction and artistic eye. The colors are vibrant, exciting and symbolic. The India of the film is an almost palpable reality, existing simultaneously in Anderson’s head, the screen, and some other real but unseen dimension. The white of the Indian funeral contrasts with the black of the Father’s, but both are equally stark. The bustle of the streets, the riotous babble of everyday life prove that Anderson works on more senses than just the ocular.
The performances themselves are subsumed—sometimes too much so—and understated. Schwartzman is steadfastly palatable, giving a good performance through the whole run, with occasional flashes of brilliance. Wilson plays his part well, though it often seems eerie considering his own recent suicide attempt. Brody presence is a surprise, considering Anderson’s apparent reluctance to change his casting roster, but is simply fantastic, making the whole movie coherent.
The plot itself is meandering, taking its time and sometimes stuttering. It’s also trademarkedly Anderson, a tale of three brothers trying to bridge the gulfs that have arisen between them. Just because it seems familiar doesn’t detract from the numerous and breathtaking emotional peaks and valleys. When the three actors manage to simultaneously strike the same emotional chord at important moments, we are reminded of just why Anderson is such a revered filmmaker. There is bittersweet melancholy here, and plenty of it. There is also tenderness, loathing, achievement, and wonder.
The short film prequel to The Darjeeling Limited, Hotel Chevalier is almost impeccable. Watching it is not a must, but textures many moments of Darjeeling with overtones of coherence.
Being torn between the camps who argue Rushmore as the superior achievement and those that favor The Royal Tenenbaums I don’t really know where to put this movie. Anderson’s last offering, The Life Aquatic, demanded several viewings before I really caught on and enjoyed it. The Darjeeling Limited leaped and sparkled immediately. And though there are undoubtedly many, many facets that I missed this time, it is not nearly so thick and hidden as Aquatic. While it doesn’t inhabit the same tier as my favorite Anderson films, I think there may be an unfair bias in terms of the emotional state in which I encountered each film. In the end Darjeeling ends up as eminently enjoyable but not as great as Anderson has proven himself capable of.
