NOTES ON THE MOVIE

Like "Rushmore", its less sprawling older brother, "The Royal Tenenbaums" enveloped me in a blissful feeling while I was watching it, only to leave me questioning if it was at all substantial once the credits rolled. Come the next morning, for both films, I concluded that they were indeed substantial, and damn near perfect.

"Tenenbaums" tackles two of my favourite cinematic themes: genius and loneliness. Genius, in that the three Tenenbaum children were once prodigies (in business, playwriting, and tennis). Loneliness, in that this genius has alienated them from a world that doesn't understand them. So what do you do when the world spits you out? You go home. The problem here is that home, and the family who lives there, is not nearly as comforting as it needs to be.

Said family is led, mostly in absentia, by Royal Tenenbaum. Gene Hackman plays Royal with buckets of joie de vivre, but also some healthy cynicism. This dichotomy is no better exemplified than in my favourite line from the movie. Royal remarks that the past six days, during which he has been duplicitously reunited with his family, have been some of the best day of his life. The voice-over narrator (a surprisingly effective Alec Baldwin) says, "Immediately after saying that, Royal realized it was true." Royal is a man of charming bigotry and charlatanism. He's a self-described a-hole, but he's desperate, and sometimes desperation breeds genius. In this case, it literally does. Hackman, in what is the film's showiest role, is actually quite spare. Which works well, because the script is so odd that too much energy from its actors would knock it over.

The rest of the cast, following Hackman's lead, is downright laconic. But as above, it works. Gwyneth Paltrow looks sleepy most of the time, owing as much to her heavy eyeliner as to her passive acting. Bill Murray, Danny Glover, and Angelica Huston, all actors who can tear up the screen if they wanted to, are finely subdued here. Most noteworthy is Luke Wilson, who hadn't impressed me up till now with his acting, but I think he does the best job here. He plays Richie Tenenbaum, former tennis ace, and the bridge between Royal and the rest of the family. The scene where they show him breaking down on the tennis court ("he's taken off both shoes, and one sock… it appears that he's crying") is genuinely heartbreaking. Luke, who's always just been just the less talented Wilson brother to me, is still just that. But he's narrowed the gap considerably.

Even though everyone is, not exactly quiet, more restrained and gentle and sad, the movie manages to deliver a surprising amount of belly laughs. Only not where you'd expect them. You have to pay close attention to the details to find the belly laughs. Trust me, though, they're there.

The more talented Wilson brother, Owen, does triple duty here. He not only produces and acts in the movie (this guy has such a strange and addictive rhythm to his acting, I always wish he was on screen more; here he has a small, but integral, role as a literary cowboy with a drug problem), but he also co-wrote the screenplay with director Wes Anderson. And as they did on "Rushmore", these two have nurtured a wonderful script between them. It sets up its story as a literary narrative, signaling scene changes by showing the chapter pages from a biography on the Tenenbaums. It has no use for Hollywood convention, but isn't so avant-garde that a mainstream audience will feel left out. And it takes its time and its own path to get to a very satisfying conclusion.

Anderson, in his role as director, certainly has a distinct and effective visual style. He sets each scene like a wonderful tableau. The actor's face is front and centre in the frame, but he loads up the periphery with so much detail, you could spend a whole viewing of the film examining the furnishings and backgrounds and be just as entertained. Come to think of it, this is a movie that proves the axiom, "God is in the details" (the details again! This must be important). Only Anderson is confidant enough to never have to explain the details. Why do the characters always wearing the same clothes? Why is one of Chas Tenenbaum's (Ben Stiller, in a less than memorable role) sons named Uzi? Why does Eli Cash (Owen Wilson's lifelong neighbour of the Tenenbaums) wear tribal war paint to a wedding? Why is Raleigh St. Claire's (Bill Murray) unrelated young patient omnipresent? I relished these details, mainly because the 'why' of it all doesn't really matter. Some directors would have tried to explain their quirks. Anderson doesn't need to. He prefers life's beautiful, unexplained mysteries. If you can't stand unanswered questions, if you need everything laid out for you in neat little piles, if you abhor human eccentricity, this movie isn't for you.

Anderson also shows that his forte for choosing appropriate music was not a fluke. The soundtrack is strong and effective. From a haunting instrumental of "Hey Jude" which plays over the opening credits, to the playing of a Rolling Stones record in a child's camping tent, which goes from the acid oddness of "She Smiled Sweetly" to the comfortably pop of "Ruby Tuesday", to Mark Mothersbaugh's score (he also did "Rushmore's" score, and once upon a time led Devo) of relentless acoustic guitar noodling, the music is integral, wispy, and perfect.

Well, I've said a lot so far, but I don't feel like I've scratched the surface of how good this movie really is. I haven't even talked about the enigmatic Pagoda, or the great visual joke at the end concerning the changing colour of Chas' track suit, or… Actually, that's probably for the better. Because there are so many things here that you deserve to discover for your self. Keep your eyes open wide.

NOTES ON THE CRITERION COLLECTION DVD

After the stunning success of the Criterion DVD for "Rushmore", Wes Anderson has gone back to that same company to produce a special edition of "The Royal Tenenbaums". It does not disappoint.

Disc one contains a stunning widescreen transfer of the movie, and a commentary track. Wes does the honours alone this time, and his track is loaded with juicy tidbits. He's got this fragile little voice, barely above a whisper, but he speaks with such authority about the kind of film he was trying to make. Everything seems to be under his control, from the set designs (about which he can't help go on and on, to the point where he remarks that his comments are probably getting quite tedious; uh, they aren't), to the music, to the camera shots, to the colour, etc., etc., etc. But on the other hand, there are several moments where he just can't explain why a line of dialogue or a visual is included, but he knew intuitively that it would work. Invariably, it does. The "Coltrane" comment is a great example of this, as is the colour of Chas' workout suit (one of the best anecdotes has Wes admitting that the reason he gave Ben Stiller for the colour of the suits was made up on the spot, having never come up with a real reason of his own; he just knew that that was what he wanted). He's also quite unapologetic about stealing moments from movies that influenced him. References to Malle, Bunuel, and Truffaut abound; he points out that the opening is lifted directly from Welles' "The Magnificent Ambersons"; and he provides the much sought after reference explaining the mysterious line Luke Wilson speaks into the mirror. Wes is a director who wears his influences proudly on his sleeve, but is still able to mix them up in a way that seems fresh and original.

On Disc two we get a whole load of supplementals. "With the Filmmaker" is a 25-minute documentary, I believe for the Independent Film Channel, that follows Wes around during preproduction of the movie. It's great to see his inventiveness and his attention to detail shown full-force. Wes, as a screen persona, reminds me a lot of R. Crumb, if Crumb were 20 years younger, had less of a drawl, and a more stable family. Wes comes across as an unabashed geek in this feature, but a geek who knows what he wants to do with the power he's been given. It's a real treat.

"The Peter Bradley Show" is a bizarre mock talk show segment, hosted by an actor (whose name is mentioned at some point, but escapes me now) as Bradley, a Charlie Rose-esque interviewer. He's a befuddled and confused man, who appears to believe that the men he's interviewing are real actors, when in fact they are merely Anderson's non-actor friends, each of whom have bit parts in his movies. Most interesting revelations: the film's namesake, Brian Tenenbaum, works selling steel over the phone, and Sanjay Mathew's (a childhood friend of Wes' who plays Richie Tenenbaum's tennis opponent) favourite drug to prescribe to his psychiatric patients is Remeron. I can't figure out where this segment came from, but I'm pretty sure it's not meant to be taken seriously. Or is it? Must be seen to be believed.

The disc features a number of graphical sections, owing their inclusion to Wes' passion for background ephemera. You get: a slide show of photos taken from the set; the covers of all the fake books that appeared in the movie; all of Richie Tenenbaum's portraits of his sister (complete with a bibliography of the plays she is shown reading in those pictures: Ionesco, Brecht, Beckett, etc.); details of Richie's wall murals; details of the paintings of Miguel Calderon that inspired Eli Cash's madness, etc. All included in toto for your perusal. For those of you (us) who love to get lost in the backgrounds of Wes' films, here's another opportunity to indulge your passions.

Also included are some quick, candid moments from the set (including Angelica Huston's hair catching fire, and Kumar Palana's plate spinning act).

In a movie so full of on-disc extras and goodies, I'm shocked to report that the set's greatest treasures can be found in its liner notes. Two separate foldouts come in the case. The first is an epic collection of Eric Chas Anderson's (Wes' brother) drawings, detailing the floor plans and interior designs of the Tenenbaum's home. Eric's drawing style is delightfully juvenile, innocent and colourful and vivacious. It's good to know that Wes isn't the only one in the Anderson clan obsessed by detail. Mies van der Rohe would be most proud. The second foldout has a wonderful, lengthy essay on Anderson's oeuvre by Kent Jones. Jones, a contributing editor of 'Film Comment' and a contributor to 'Cahiers du Cinema' and 'The Village Voice', dissects "Bottle Rocket", "Rushmore", and "Tenenbaums" with the skill of a surgeon and the unabashed passion of Casanova.

I thoroughly enjoyed "The Royal Tenenbaums" when it played in theatres, and am looking forward to years of enjoyment, repeatedly playing this wonderful DVD collection.

Recommended:
Yes

Viewing Format: DVD