Fuck the itinerary.

Wes Anderson films are not set in the same world in which you and I live. If they were, every member of The Royal Tanenbaums would have been strangled by someone close to them. Even if the three brothers travelling by the Darjeeling Limited do not try our patience to the same degree, it is still hard to imagine them occupying the same physical universe as the rest of us. That is either a testament to the writer/director’s imagination or a damning statement about his grip on reality. For the moment, I will give Anderson the benefit of the doubt and endorse the former view.

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Lawrence! Why are you slapping that monkey?

Mixing comedy with elaborate special effects is a tricky balancing act. Humor requires at least the illusion of spontaneity while the effects have to be planned out to the last second. Sometimes it works just right and you get a movie like Ghostbusters, while other time you end up with a mess like Spielberg’s 1941. Night at the Museum falls somewhere between. It manages to amuse without possessing anything resembling originality.

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Tattoo on the lower back? Might as well be a bullseye.

This is one of those unfortunate comedies where the concept is actually funnier than the execution. It’s a shame, too, given the cast they had at their disposal. I’m sure the pitch sessions for this movie were a riot. Vince Vaughn and Owen Wilson crashing weddings to pick up women? Christopher Walken as the Secretary of the Treasury? Hilarity must inevitably ensue, right?

Unfortunately, no. (more…)

I don’t think you’re an asshole, Royal. I just think you’re kind of a son of a bitch.

The Royal Tenebaums is a masterfully-executed, unconventional little film starring some of our best actors, all at the top of their game, all playing characters I wanted to strangle by the middle of the picture. It’s an odd feeling to so thoroughly admire the craft with which a film was made, while still hoping for a Roland Emmerich-sized catastrophe to obliterate the city in which these characters live.

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