The Wake

It’s hard to tell whether the harshest critics of Wes Anderson (director of such films as Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou and The Royal Tenenbaums) lack imagination, or whether they flat-out don’t get it. Either way, his work can be easily characterized as “not for everyone.”

These critics need to offer legitimate rationale for this negative point of view. Instead, they use buzzwords like “pretentious” and “affected,” and calling Anderson a one-trick pony who relies on the same formula of privileged characters desensitized by disjointed familial issues.

Though I would agree that there is a definite tone and common subject matter present in Anderson’s work, to call it a formula is to undermine the entire notion of an auteur. It would be like saying Akira Kurosawa was formulaic because he made samurai movies.

The word pretentious is launched errantly all-to-often in criticism of Wes Anderson and other directors of the same ilk. Oftentimes the word is misunderstood and falsely appropriated. To be clear, pretentious is an adjective used to describe someone or something that has a false notion of importance about itself.

To this end, if Anderson was to be considered pretentious, his films would be void of any emotional depth, instead focusing on the “look what I can do” aspect of filmmaking. To me, movies like X-Men and other summer blockbusters, though entertaining, fit the description of style over substance more so than Anderson’s.

Why, then are films considered “artsy” or “indie” are held to different standards than the big name Hollywood movies? This is an open question, one that I can’t answer. But, what I can do is explain why Wes Anderson is one of the best modern-day American directors, because of his equilibrium of style and substance.

Undoubtedly, Anderson’s films are highly stylized. Small details like the animal-etched luggage of the brothers in The Darjeeling Limited, or Max Fischer’s calligraphic notes in Rushmore flood his movies. But, all details are there for a reason.

The best example I have of why these details are significant comes from The Life Aquatic, when Steve Zissou is describing his ship, the Belafonte. Tiny details, like acknowledging the Swedish masseuse kept on staff and the changed name of the submarine from “Jacqueline” to “Deep Search” (“She didn’t really love me”) represent Zissou’s failed legacy. Instead of building a life he could be proud of, he sunk a fortune into an extravagant ship that costs way more money than it brings in. Without the details of this sequence, the metaphor would have become meaningless.

Another argument against Anderson is that his use of music is all style, and it’s used to compensate for his characters’ lack of emotional depth. This point couldn’t be further from the truth.

In actuality, Anderson utilizes songs that he loves to expose the personalities of his characters. In The Royal Tenenbaums, in the scene where Margo picks Richie up from the bus station, the song “These Days” by Nico (written by Jackson Browne), a song about introspection and the horrors of growing older alone, plays loudly as the two see each other again after a long absence. The song is used to reveal how both characters are on the path to lonely isolation if they don’t confront their feelings for each other.

The final criticism is that Anderson uses scenery and sets to disguise his disaffected characters.

His recent film, The Darjeeling Limited, presents a perfect counter to this point of view. Throughout the film we are engulfed in the bright colors and vibrant culture of India. And though we know the characters, there is an underlying sense of deeper turmoil unexpressed for much of the film, especially by Adrian Brody’s character Peter. We know that he ran away to India to escape his pregnant wife, but we aren’t completely sure why; at least not until around half way through the movie.

As the brothers are walking to the next town, three Indian boys lose control crossing a river and start floating downstream. As the three brothers rescue the boys, something happens, and Peter’s ends up dead. In one line, Brody’s character reveals his weakness and shows more emotion than some characters do in an entire film.

Holding the child’s lifeless body he says somberly, “I didn’t save mine.” Immediately we are shown his fear of being an inadequate or absent father.

Wes Anderson’s films are a visual and aural feast. Emotionally, the movies build up tension through psychologically blocked off characters. Then, when they finally open up to us, the viewers, it is unbridled catharsis. If you get a chance to experience his work, jump at the opportunity, because directors like this don’t come around too often.