Boy, I'm just post-happy today, aren't I? Not to be confused with post-modern. Har.
I just saw Wes Anderson's latest film. Have you seen this guy? He's more than a little eccentric. But if you're familiar with Bottle Rocket, Rushmore, and The Royal Tenenbaums, you knew what to expect, right? Well, maybe.
Bill Murray is back, as is Owen Wilson. And apparently ol' Wes had a few more dollars at his disposal this time and the result is some pretty wacky marine effects. At first I was a bit puzzled. Indeed, compared to Rushmore, the laughs, while still out loud, were fewer and more subtle. And of course the trailers had deflated most of the funnier lines.
But what I came to realize by the end of the film was surprising. First, it's that this isn't simply a comedy. This is one of the childhood dreams of the director, laid out before us in the technicolor imagination of youth. We get a peek inside Anderson's head at age 11 1/2, when he read and watched everything he could about Jacques Cousteau, and was probably a junior member of the society. We get a chance to see, in characteristic fashion, just how things might have played out in the filmmaker's own little reality. We even see Anderson's bitterness toward his father. It's funny. It's touching. And in my mind, it's a masterpiece.
Why use such a strong word for a film I didn't like as much as Rushmore? Because it was art. Art isn't about whether or not you like it. Honestly, I don't think Wes had me specifically in mind as he was creating the film, and I doubt he cares what I think about it. And let me just open a can of worms here, but who really finds Picasso's cubism appealing to the eye? You're right, though, that's missing the point. Art is about creativity. Art is about challenging the status quo. Art is about whether or not and how well the artist gets his point across. And it is here in the modern art of filmmaking that Anderson is without peer. Everything about this movie, from costumes to dialogue, from cinematography to plot, conveys the singular, cohesive vision of the director. Not a scene is out of place. Not a detail overlooked. This is why I call it a masterpiece, and this is why I think you should see it if you haven't already. You may not like it. But, like Les Demoiselles d'Avignon, that doesn't make it any less perfect.
Posted by George at January 7, 2005 11:21 PMloving toast for brekkie already, man! this is great stuff. as i mentioned to lacey, you are a skilled writer. and thank you for encapsulating in a few statements such truth about art - something very misunderstood by the vast majority of people. art simply is. to some extent, anyway.
i will do something here i said i wouldn't do - post a long comment. you can bop me over the head later! :) but it's a poem i have loved for a very long time and relates to "art", i believe, as well. the last line particularly speaks to me. here goes...
Ars Poetica (Archibald MacLeish)
A poem should be palpable and mute
As a globed fruit,
Dumb
As old medallions to the thumb,
Silent as the sleeve-worn stone
Of casement ledges where the moss has grown--
A poem should be wordless
As the flight of birds.
A poem should be motionless in time
As the moon climbs,
Leaving, as the moon releases
Twig by twig the night-entangled trees,
Leaving, as the moon behind the winter leaves,
Memory by memory the mind--
A poem should be motionless in time
As the moon climbs.
A poem should be equal to:
Not true.
For all the history of grief
An empty doorway and a maple leaf.
For love
The leaning grasses and two lights above the sea--
A poem should not mean
But be.
Delara, you got it. It was a pop fly to center and you came down with it. This is exactly the sort of response I was looking for, and if this is the fruit of future long comments, I say bring it on. The poem you shared says it better than I ever could. Thank you.
Posted by: george at January 8, 2005 12:26 PMFor all the history of grief
An empty doorway and a maple leaf.
Having not seen The Life Aquatic yet, though dying to - every week it inches higher on the list of things do to- These lines in particular strike me as Wes Anderson-esque.
Super super good call George - Movies, I find, (and countless other forms of art for that matter) are more everlasting when they are complete expressions rather than statements.
Posted by: Abby at January 9, 2005 12:32 PMwelcome my blog brother. sorry i'm a bit slow on the uptake, shok just informed me of your blog's birth. and on this entry...i just saw rushmore this weekend. it was awesome.
Posted by: meisa at January 10, 2005 10:16 AM