three for the road

On a meticulously art directed train car somewhere in India three brothers with equally finely tailored suits and curious looking noses are the new parts that sum up the Wes Andersonian dysfunctional family in Anderson's "The Darjeeling Limited." Anderson's fascination with the flawed and broken family has become a trademark and almost a given in his brief but growing oeuvre. After the indulgent misfire that was "The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou", which painfully showed Anderson's limitations as a writer and filmmaker, Anderson seems reassured and comfortable reigned the theatrics in and exploring the family theme in a different direction. Instead of the claustrophobic fantasy world he typically dreams up where even the mice bear the stamp of a particular Anderson visual flair, Anderson's focus has moved into a more geographically recognizable world, but similarly claustrophobic, that expresses a love for international cinema and a new vision that is desperate to prove he has more in him than style and pastiche. Does he succeed? Not entirely, but his ambition marks a maturity in his work that Anderson desperately needs.

Although the set up is quite simple (three brothers on a train), Anderson is wisely full of a newfound cinematic inspiration and perhaps has been watching a lot of Jean Renoir, Louis Malle, and Eric Rohmer that breathes some new life into his work. All of this referencing can be distracting and almost proof there isn't much to Anderson's pudding, but sometimes I feel like a rip off, especially when it's good and it steals from the filmmakers I appreciate, can be a spark for something more personal and truly cinematic, which regardless of poorly developed characters or plot holes can save a film. "Life of Aquatic" felt like empty ideas and jokes, nothing evolutionary. In "Darjeeling", Anderson gets out of his head and comfort zone to take us to a new landscape for him and material that although doesn't measure up totally, it's a clear declaration of a conscious decision to evolve and challenge. In an odd way "Darjeeling" feels like Anderson's most personal film yet. Even the obnoxious "short film", "Hotel Chevalier", that prefaces the feature feels like it was a nostalgic portrait from Anderson's own nerdy and affluent life. Everything from the music, the slow motion tracking shots, and the beautiful but damned characters are essential Anderson preoccupations but to his own credit, some freshness exists in what he feeds the audience.

Turning his eyes to India is the strongest asset Anderson exercises for himself and the audience. It's a country that doesn't garner too much attention from American filmmakers. I've always thought Anderson's world was too specific in its faux cosmopolitan artiness. However, the natural landscapes of India are sumptuous and inspiring enough to capture without Anderson tinkering with it too much, and he does to a degree. The only piece of art direction he has control over is the titular form of transportation. It might be a bit clunky that the train is a little to symbolic in terms of the personal and geographic journey the characters venture throughout the film, but without that love for creating a hermetically but aesthetically pleasing world, this would not be an Anderson film. The empty and sandy deserts juxtaposed with the bustling and all consuming cities of India are excitedly captured. It's obvious Anderson appreciates a country that is so rich and deeply attached to its history, religion, and culture, but the one concern with this is an over exocitizing of a foreign culture at the hands of a bourgeois American male. Anderson doesn't try to represent the culture, but the women are a little more available (in more ways than one), the primitivism a little too present and purported, and the ignorance of American tourism is at times fodder but at other times possibly indicative of Anderson's own romanticized outlook. Perhaps this only agitates because the three leads come from a background of $6,000 belts, vintage Ferrari's, and Louis Vuitton luggage.

Naturalism is not Anderson's forte and thus what he normally does is almost over compensated and tiresome to watch in the face of his shot at restraint and new territory. How many times can he employ a slow motion tracking shot? I think I counted five or more, but one or none would have sufficed. The esoteric pop music that usually gets his audience going is cheekily referenced by Jason Schwartzman's horndog character cue the music from his iPod that we're all sure must be filled with awesome playlists. The themes of suicide, poor communication between parent and child, and favoritism amongst siblings that are so frequent in his work, gives the impression there is little else that interests Anderson as a storyteller. Sure there are a host of filmmakers that are very comfortable in their own heads, but maybe they just do it better and more convincingly. The characters never amount to much and their supposed catharsis is bloodless and drags the last third of the film. And when will he stop dressing Angelica Houston up in unflattering wigs and underusing her talent? The film doesn't entirely come off as one big piece of decor, but this should be the next step in where Anderson can go as a filmmaker and hopefully fully realize his talent along the way.