The Darjeeling Limited
In brief: The Darjeeling Limited is a story of three brothers on a trip through India. The eldest, Francis (Owen Wilson), has managed to entice his two younger brothers, Peter (Adrien Brody) and Jack (Jason Schwartzman), to come without explaining the reason for the trip. Suffice to say, family secrets, past and present, come out, and the brothers’ journey into the heart of India aboard the titular train hits many obstacles and results in unforeseen conclusions.
So that’s what the movie is. But that’s never what anyone talks about.
Wes Anderson has proved a particularly divisive director in recent weeks (this review is roughly concurrent with the release of The Darjeeling Limited, his fifth full-length feature), as each film that he releases serves to enrage detractors and encourage his supporters to rally around his cult of personality (not that he cultivates or encourages one).
The Darjeeling Limited probably won’t change any minds in either direction; in some ways, it’s critic- and criticism-proof, as it seems that people object to his movies entirely on stylistic and scriptwriting grounds; viewers either hate the way his films look and sound, or they love it. And because his style is so distinct among modern filmmakers, there’s no film movement or group of directors to single out, just this one guy. Like, if you hate Truffaut, you can hate the French New Wave writ large. If you hate The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou, you hate Wes Anderson.
So, his most recent film trades in the same type of visual and thematic tropes of his previous work. Carefully constructed frames, quirky costuming, surreal set design, elliptical dialogue, disfunctional aristocrats, movement almost entirely in parallel or in perpendicular to the direction of the camera, long slow motion shots, it’s all there.
So why watch this film if, based on my vague description, it is just a rehash of all of his other films?
Well, in many ways, don’t most interesting directors have a tendency to retread the same material from different angles, over and over? Spielberg cannot be more interested in 1940s America and space, Von Trier cannot stop picking on helpless, innocent, deified women, and Scorsese cannot shake his interest in religion and where it intersects with the mind of the American criminal. Do we hold these near-obsessions against these people? I certainly don’t.
So with Anderson, I try to give him the same treatment. Sure, it’s the same thing, but it’s different.
Darjeeling contains some beautifully composed slow motion shots (if you’re into the idea of watching Adrien Brody run), a compelling three-way betrayal (or at the very least, a lack of trust), several hilarious running gags involving self-medication and peacock feathers, a couple of solid cameos (not like it’s really a surprise) and a truly touching, heartfelt third act that serves to illustrate what distinguishes an important conflict from an unimportant one.
Sure, Anderson’s films remain largely a boy’s club affair, and sure he still falls prey to many of the same stylistic tics that he always has. But in my estimation, he’s continually used these same trends and tricks to new and surprising effect in each of his films, and while the techniques remain the same, the emotional, comical, and artistic impacts they make on me remain interesting and refreshing.
In the end, while I can understand exasperation and boredom from some viewers, I liked the film. The awkward pauses, overwritten dialogue, precious design, narrow socioeconomic focus (actually, not even a fair accusation), and a plot that seems to possess no real beginning and no real end…it worked for me. I laughed at the jokes, I was moved by the stuff that was supposed to be poignant, and I was satisfied by the basic arc of the story. Perhaps that just means that I’m easily manipulated or a basic dolt for falling for a bunch of Anderson’s isms, but I really don’t care. It’s very easy to say no to everything and very hard to be willing to say yes, and I’d rather make the mistake of being too accepting than not enough.