Wes Anderson, Re-evaluated.

Wes Anderson in 'everyday' mode

I have to admit – with the crushing blow to my cinephile credentials that it will inevitably cause – that I came to the work of Wes Anderson late. By late, I mean that 2007’s The Darjeeling Limited was the first film of his that I saw. No, not the much admired Rushmore, or the much-loved The Royal Tenenbaums – the one set in India that drew a tepid response from critics. Yet after people (me included) likened the primary colours and deadpan comedy of the stellar Submarine to the kooky world’s favourite ‘auteur’, I thought I would watch – or re-watch, in some cases –his films and try and draw some conclusions. Chiefly: are his films preening, pretentious, yet ultimately vacuous testaments to a man-child with too much creative control; or are they ironic, incisive and affecting portraits of a particular type of life, as envisaged by a bona fide auteur.

The answer, as always with these sorts of things, is never cut and dry. I did, however, find myself vacillating a ridiculous amount – oscillating between the two different opinions like a schizophrenic. His films, for me, fall into four categories: The Rubbish Ones; The Almost-Rubbish Ones with a Lot to Love and Admire, The Ones I Like; and The Ones I Love. It’s really striking how well they fit into these categories, but given how much creative control Anderson has, the thematic overlap and use of the same pool of actors – it is hardly surprising.

In the first class of film, The Rubbish Ones, there is, in fact, only one film: Bottle Rocket. As his first film, made fresh out of college, it feels slightly harsh to excoriate the bloke for having made it. You have to start somewhere, as anyone who has ever tried anything creative well knows. It’s just I really did hate this film. Its whimsy, 2-D characters and overall tone made me want to tear my hair out and watch Herzog movies on repeat – just to get my cynicism going, so earnest and wide-eyed is it. In that respect, like most early works, it contained many motifs recurrent in Anderson’s later work in embryo. Though, in this case, almost all I hate and almost none that I love.

Bottle Rocket Normality

In the second category, The Almost-Rubbish Ones with a Lot to Love and Admire, there are two films: Rushmore and The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou. In the case of Rushmore, I found its protagonist annoying – not something that necessarily makes a tragic-comic character weak. But in Max’s case, I found him pretentious annoying, which precluded any emotional involvement. I found what was going on occasionally interesting, very stylish and quite charming. I just didn’t care. The Life Aquatic was in many ways even more frustrating, rekindling as it did my love for Bowie and introducing me to some great Brazilian covers by Seu Jorge, not to mention looking unfeasibly beautiful for two hours. But just as In Rushmore, something was missing. Maybe it is the “terminal whimsy” of Anderson that Roger Ebert has complained about, which, I agree can be grating. Or maybe it is the affected style, the deadpan emoting of the characters and the slow pace that points to a nothingness very different to any Coen Brothers film.

The penultimate category, The Ones I Like, contains two films: The Darjeeling Limited and The Fantastic Mr Fox, which somewhat balances out the bile I have spat. They are also, curiously enough, the first and last films of his I ever saw. Not that that matters. Why I like them is that for all the director’s idiosyncratic hallmarks, there is some realised emotional depth to the proceedings. For in the case of Mr Fox, the characters are literally two-dimensional and its old-school use of stop-motion animation scream quirky – but it works. Although the artifice of filmmaking is highlighted and it may not be entirely suitable for kids, its familiar tale of a dysfunctional family packs a curious punch. The freedom of composition that animation allows Anderson and the childish subject matter, given “the spirit of self-conscious juvenile playacting [that] has informed his work from the start”, means the movie is, in many ways, the apotheosis of the Texan’s creative vision. Even the American goodies/Brit baddies dynamic couldn’t spoil my appreciation

Foxes In Action

The other film I like, The Darjeeling Limited, is marked by the same things: a dry humour, visual beauty and a great soundtrack. And, like Mr Fox, what makes it successful is that, beyond its glacial coolness, there is some real, heartfelt emotion – no matter how formulaic it may feel. Just as a killer soundtrack doesn’t make you Tarantino – who himself has almost sunk into self-parody these days – a cool-looking film isn’t always an enjoyable one.

The final category, The Ones I Love, is like the first, in that it only contains one film: The Royal Tenenbaums. And I do really love The Royal Tenenbaums. For, unlike the other cases I have noted: where unrealistic and tragically flawed characters fail to provide both tears and laughs, here they do. This is a serio-comedy both poignant and hilarious, crammed with great performances. Here the affectations are essential, just like every arabesque on the Alhambra, you couldn’t imagine it without each one. The famous criticism of Anderson – that he doesn’t “let story take precedence over style”, for me, is not an issue here. Everything just works and fits and it is glorious. Somehow the patchwork of the eccentric and idiosyncratic manages to mimic life itself, forming something at once odd, at once transcendent.

Ben Stiller Does Scouse

So, where do the failings lie? A big part of it, for me, are the recurring themes, motifs and style. Though, I suppose, not too many people still pummel the late, great John Updike for writing mostly about the white middle-class, just as they shouldn’t Anderson. Even though a lack of character development is often a reason for me not enjoying films, I respect Anderson’s idiosyncrasy in this aspect: the world does not need more identikit filmmakers. You just need to make sure there is some sort of connect.

His using the same coterie of actors can often be counter-productive; the palimpsest of the collective imagination is indelibly imprinted with residual memories of actor’s previous roles. Bill Murray is always Bill Murray, as Zombieland showed, which occasionally makes Anderson films seem samey: a flogged, dead horse. That’s why I am intrigued as to whether Anderson’s new film, Moonrise Kingdom, with its new stars: Edward Norton, Bruce Willis and Tilda Swinton, will mark a new stylistic direction. Something tells me it might not; so let’s just hope it’s in the last category. For when they work, there are few as great – and when they don’t, there are few as irritating.