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Wes Anderson is at his best when he explores a exiguous group of people — sometimes family, sometimes not — and explores what makes them tick.
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And after the cluttered “The Life Aquatic of Steve Zissou,” Anderson returns to those roots with “The Darjeeling Runt.” Technically it’s an Indian road ride movie, and it’s tubby of his quirky charm… but at heart it’s unbiased about three unhapppy brothers with a lot of baggage. Both literally and psychologically.
The forlorn Peter (Adrien Brody) and his luggage barely invent it to an Indian yell in time to join his brothers, woman-chasing writer Jack (Jason Schwartzman) and bandaged control freak Francis (Owen Wilson) . They haven’t spoken for a year, and now they’re planning to awkwardly bond as they recede to their estranged mother’s convent.
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But after disasters appealing a snake, painkillers and pepper spray, the three brothers get themselves (and their monogrammed suitcases) thrown off the vow. As they breeze benefit to civilization, the three men state out on a quest to sight the spiritual, deal with life, death, feathers, man-eating tigers, funerals and their absorb painful memories… and possibly collect their mom.
Nobody in their true mind would request Wes Anderson to trudge up an ordinary good-ol’-boys road amble movie. At least, not the diagram most directors would. Instead, Anderson crafts this as the baby brother to “The Royal Tenenbaums,” exploring a fractured, mildly dysfunctional family with an absent parent.
And the cinematic flavour of “Darjeeling Microscopic” is remarkable the same as in “Royal Tenenbaums” — bittersweetly amusing and arch, with a tinge of poetic unhappy underlying the station. It would be an endearing movie in any setting, but somehow putting it in the mellow glow of India’s dusty roads, shimmering fields and cluttered shrines makes it even better. The lustrous, visual richness gives it a sense of whimsy.
For the describe, Roman Coppola and Schwartzman helped Anderson out with the script, but there isn’t remarkable change. As always, lots of wry, amusingly contemplative dialogue (”I wonder if the three of us would’ve been friends in precise life. Not as brothers, but as people”), though there is some hilarious comedic scenes of sibling infighting. It even gets slapsticky.
Fortunately, Anderson never puts artificial twists into the sage, for any extra drama, comedy or thrills; the closest thing would be a brief detour into a child’s funeral. The fable simply flows by, because it’s all about the brothers — and focusing on anything but their self-imposed crawl would unbiased be extra baggage.
And the three men playing Jack, Francis and Peter are nothing short of intellectual. Brody is vaguely lost and forlorn, while Schwartzman is a quirky rake who is level-headed shrinking by his last girlfriend (played by Natalie Portman in the short intro, “Hotel Chevalier”) . But there’s something almost painfully wounded about Wilson’s reckless control freak, which has nothing to do with his bandages.
“The Darjeeling Puny” is a visually unbelievable, contemplative slight comedy, all about three men who have to deal with the past before they can proceed on. Assign it on the shelf next to “Royal Tenenbaums.”
Synopsis: An ornate and psychedelically colored impart known as the Darjeeling Cramped transports three estranged brothers; Francis (Owen Wilson), Peter (Adrien Brody) and Jack (Jason Schwartzman) to destinations unknown (actually Francis is attempting to arrange a rendezvous with their constantly disappearing Mother (Anjelica Huston) now living as a nun in Tibet) . It has only been a year since their Father’s tragic death and each brother carries their contain personal heartache over his passing and their Mother’s disturbing absence from the funeral.
As one comes to inquire when traveling with others, cessation proximity, annoying behaviors and used wounds eventually surface which must be dealt with as they arise. Add to the mix unforeseen events both aboard the screech and at intermittent stopovers along the plot and you have the makings of a transformational experience unlike anything the brothers could have anticipated.
Critique: The ‘07 film `The Darjeeling Limited’ begins painfully humdrum and incomprehensibly odd but if you have the fortitude to survive the first 40 minutes you will eventually fetch yourself on a delightfully oddball, unpredictable whisk across the Indian subcontinent on a spiritual lumber in search of physical, emotional and relational healing. Serving as a metaphor for life’s plug, one might say that we are all aboard the Darjeeling Minute headed in the same direction to parts unknown. In the final analysis one learns that it’s not where you’re headed but how distinguished baggage you roam along with you.
There’s a lot of food for conception hidden away in this film for those who are willing to keep in the pain and survey until the very ruin. Give it a try if you’re in the mood for something obtuse.
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