Early on in "Bottle Rocket", there's an exchange that crystallizes, for me, Wes Anderson and Owen Wilson's filmmaking ethos. The scene is set at night. Three men are sitting in their car outside a bookstore, pre-robbery. Dignan (Owen) and Anthony (Luke Wilson) put white tape across the bridges of their noses. Bob (Robert Musgrave), the get-away driver, innocently asks, "Why is there tape on your nose?" Dignan, with a devilish grin stretching from ear to ear, excitedly replies, "Exactly!" It's typical for Anderson/Wilson characters to not fully understand the reason for their actions (or if they do, never tell the audience) while knowing that, like sharks, if they stop moving they will die.

"Bottle Rocket" grew out of a notion that Anderson and Wilson had that their generation, so long believed to be idle and apathetic, could accomplish great things if they channeled their boundless energy. The problem being, what did they want to accomplish? This is no better exemplified than with Dignan. He is a wonderful creation: a case of arrested development whose actions are completely unexpected. Sure, you know he's going to screw up somehow, but will it be through his over-extended bravado, or just his general incompetence? And try as you might, you just can't get a complete read on his personality. He shows not a whit of self-awareness until the film's final scene, a genuinely surprising moment where he has enough self-awareness for ten men.

It is Dignan who acts as the impetus for what is going to go down: a youthful crime operation is to be formed, with the sole intent of proving to the local crime boss (James Caan, in a role that's probably too small; still, Caan, in his brief scenes, shines) that they are ready to jump to the big leagues. Only they aren't. And probably never will be. This is where most of the film's broad comedy comes from: watching Dignan and his boys try their best, and constantly fail through misguided attempts, to become real thieves (at one point they rob Anthony's house, just for practice).

While Dignan is the showier role, Anthony is the crux of the movie; it is told through his eyes. Luke Wilson, an actor of low-key charm who gets more appealing the more I watch him, plays the yin to his brother Owen's yang. Anthony is Dignan's more adult alter ego. Or, more accurately, he's Dignan's Big Brother figure: full of support and amusement for Dignan's harebrained schemes, always willing to lend a hand, and, if needed, a sane word. An odd role for a man just released from a mental hospital. And Wilson, in his first film role, even gets to play a very touching and tender romance with Inez (Lumi Cavazos), a Spanish-only speaking maid at a motel. It's this section, which takes up most of the film's middle third, which defines Anthony's character most.

The film opens with the one scene in the mental hospital. This scene, in a few scant moments, defines Anthony and Dignan's relationship. Anthony is ready to check out, voluntarily, but a confused Dignan wants to help him break out. Always the good sport, Anthony ties several bed sheets together, explains politely to his doctor what he's doing, and casually rappels down the wall, while his friend, hiding in the bushes, couldn't be more excited that his plan was a success. Dignan, the adventurous man-child with big ideas and loads of initiative, and Anthony, the ever-loyal friend who always wants to do his buddy right, compliment each other so well in this scene, as they do throughout the movie. It is a fascinating and complex, but very dear, relationship.

Anderson's filmmaking style, so effervescent in his next two films ("Rushmore", "The Royal Tenenbaums"), still shines through here, although it is hampered by two things. First, he has a stingier budget to work with (at one point we see inmates wearing jumpsuits emblazoned with the words "WASCO STATE PENITENTIARY"; the same suit, if seen in "Tenenbaums" would be professionally made and ornate, while here it appears to be a painter's overalls written on with magic marker). Second, whereas "Rushmore" and "Tenenbaums" were basically confined to one setting (a prep school and a Manhattan townhouse respectively), "Bottle Rocket" is a road movie. Anderson can't plan elaborate tableaus, filled with precious details, when the location may change from scene to scene. These aren't harsh criticisms, mind you. But I did feel like Anderson wasn't able to fully play to his strengths here, as he got a chance to later.

That's not to say he doesn't still indulge in his passion for vibrant details. One fine example is Dignan's notebook, outlining his 75-year (!) plan for success. It goes by quickly, so you'll have to pause if you want to read each page as it flips by. I recommend you do. It's a marvel of low-key ambition and wrong-headed planning. And Anderson's passion for music, a character unto itself in his later films, is more subdued but no less effective, here. Mark Mothersbaugh (of Devo fame), a frequent collaborator with Anderson, again provides the score and again does a flawless, eccentric job.

"Bottle Rocket" is a modest masterpiece. Anderson and Wilson's script, with its Altmanesque scenes of overlapping dialogue, its obsession with the incidentals of the character's lives, and its knack for peculiar dialogue (Dignan, in an atypical moment of self-doubt, says, "He's out. And you're out, too. And I don't think I'm in, either. No gang!"), is just plain wonderful. Anderson's direction shows the promise he would later fulfill. And the acting, mainly by the Wilson brothers, but also by Musgrave, Cavazos, and Caan, is not as amateurish as I would have expected. A fine, funny, friendly film, that shoots for the moon, but doesn't flare out quickly like the fireworks for which it is named.

Recommended:
Yes

Viewing Format: DVD