Happy Birthday, Marco
This year, I bought you a detailed rant about how totally wrong you are about Rushmore in particular and Wes Anderson’s films in general.
(Needless to say, anybody that hasn’t seen Rushmore should stop reading now).
First, before you think I’m totally just arguing for argument’s sake (not totally out of character), just do yourself a favor and watch the clip of the ending that I just uploaded.
Look at the look on Max’s face when he introduces Margaret to Miss Cross. Check out how he has the DJ play just the right song. Check out how Miss Cross takes his glasses off, looks at him, time slows down, and she leads him to the dance floor. How is any of that “Max has learned something”? The weird thing is that even after several viewings, somehow I came away thinking that basically, Max had grown up and given up his quest for Miss Cross’s affections. Now, I can’t see it in any other way than that not only has he not given up on her, he has actually succeeded in winning her over.
Also, you’re way too hard on his theater and his “aesthetics”. The kid is supposed to be, what, 17? If you’re not trying to punch above your weight when you’re 17, you’re probably not trying hard enough. If you’re lucky enough to come from an incredibly cultured background, sure, you might be very refined and knowledgeable. If you’re a barber’s son, you could do far worse than what I think is actually a very heartfelt and charming rendition of Serpico. (Digression: every time I see Dirk in that damn nun’s habit, I lose control of my bladder. So Funny!) You do the best with what’s around when you’re 17, culture-wise; stuff that you think was great at the time, you may later think was in poor taste and you might disown. But it probably had its place at the time, and pushes you on to better things. At least that’s what it was like for me, and I suspect for you, too.
And where did you ever get the idea that Royal Tennenbaum ever stops being a shit? He’s a shit from beginning to end. The premise of the movie is that he finally realizes that he has been a shit and he has alienated his family, and he sets out to make them love him again. He does not set out to stop being a shit, and he does not set out to really make things right— the whole comedy comes out of the fact that he lies and does whatever it takes to get sympathy and to get his family back on his side. He never ever stops saying insulting things to Margot. And his freakin’ gravestone at the end has his fantastic whopper about saving his family from the wreckage of a battleship. I know it turns out to be strangely true on some level, because he does pull his family back together, but it’s not because he’s changed his ways. Chas forgives him and changes, Margo changes, Richie changes, and even his ex-wife changes, but Royal dies the same jerk he started out as.
If anything, I think Anderson’s movies are more about creative people who prefer their own delusions to reality, who by sheer force of their charm and personality draw other people to them and get them to join them in the fantasy. (Not unlike Anderson’s aesthetic, huh?) I mean, they tug at the heartstrings, but these are still comedies, and these heroes are Quixote, not Oedipus.
Admit it, I’m right!!!! And you know it!
March 23rd, 2007 at 11:39 pm
Thing is, I can’t help thinking that the movie is somewhat autobiographical… so of course he’d give himself his little fantasy at the end.
Ez, your last big paragraph is right on. In the end, it’s not about all the details you two have fussed over. It’s about the crazy wonderfulness of life, which is a messy, weird, changing, very funny thing. And it’s the musings and mostly the fantasies of a crazy smart kid who grew up and got people to like him and climb aboard his careening party ship. Quit deconstructing the ship and just climb aboard.
March 23rd, 2007 at 11:44 pm
One more thing… in both Rushmore and the Royal Tenenbaums, the main characters figure out what’s going on… they start to understand why people react to them in a certain way–they get the ability to see themselves a little bit as others see them. That might change their behavior a little, but the perspective doesn’t change who they essentially are. Max doesn’t lose his weird creativity or his spark or his quirkiness. He accepts Margaret but he doesn’t stop pining after Miss Cross. Royal Tenenbaum understands how he’s pushed his family away and he tries to bring them back together, but as Ez has written, he doesn’t stop being basically a bit of a scheming, lying ass.
March 23rd, 2007 at 11:54 pm
I’m in love with my Quixote/Oedipus analogy.
Oedipus as staged by Wes Anderson: Oedipus finds out the truth about himself, but decides he’s OK with it, stays married to his mother, convinces the city that it’s OK. “Spill the Wine” by War is playing as the end credits go up, while we see scenes of their big anniversary party.
March 23rd, 2007 at 11:58 pm
And Oedipus is wearing a corduroy toga.
March 24th, 2007 at 2:21 am
Thanks for remembering.
I never meant to suggest that you were wrong with a capital W. I just prefer my reading. The film can support both views. Plus I don’t think I’m TOTALLY wrong about the film or Anderson’s films in general. I think certain aspects of the films just resonate more strongly with you than they do with me and vice-versa. One might as well argue that the grey-blues are more important than the blue-greys in one of Picasso’s Blue Period paintings. Besides, I should know better than to argue with such a world-class contrarion.
I may have come across as too harsh on Max. It’s not that he’s without good qualities and he still has his whole future ahead of him. I’m just glad that he stopped trying so hard to be someone he’s not. I’m sure that we can both agree that by the end Max is more confident and comfortable with who he is.
Royal does change. True, his first instinct is to rely on his old methods of lying and manipulation but by the end he comes to realize how much he genuinely loves and needs his family. He acknowledges his mistakes, he takes the kids to the graveyard, he gives Ari and Uzi a chance to experience some of the simple pleasures of a carefree childhood, he finally treats Margot like a daughter, he makes peace with Henry and finally grants Ethel a divorce so that she can marry the man she loves but not before thanking her for raising their children. He doesn’t become or even claim to be an altogether new man, just a better one. I suppose the same could be said for Anderson’s other protagonists.
Royal: I’ve always been considered an asshole for about as long as I can remember. That’s just my style. But I’d really feel blue if I didn’t think you were going to forgive me.
Henry Sherman: I don’t think you’re an asshole, Royal. I just think you’re kind of a son of a bitch.
Royal: Well, I really appreciate that.
Oh, and the video is “no longer available” according to YouTube.
March 24th, 2007 at 1:15 pm
Ok Toby, I see the convergence…that is to say, I see where both of our interpretations can meet and still retain their validity. Looking at the scene again (video is working now) your suspicions that Max has stage managed this whole affair is not off-base. The big clue is that he cues the DJ to play “Ooh Lah Lah”. I had forgotten that.
If I’m reading you correctly, and maybe I haven’t, then your view of the ending is more cynical than mine and I truly don’t want to see any cynicism in the ending. That moment between Max and Ms. Cross strikes me less as an “I told you so” moment engineered by Max, but rather as a moment where both characters silently recognize their mutual affection and attraction for one another while acknowledging the impossibility of ever conumating that attraction, physically or emotionally.
Thus, Max has his (in your words) Clockwork Orange “I was cured all right” moment while still preserving the forgiveness and acceptance I’ve come to expect in Anderson’s work.
I think this parallels the even more doomed romance of Richie and Margot Tenenbaum.
Margot: I think we’re just going to have to be secretly in love with each other and leave it at that, Richie.
They look at each other for a long minute. Richie nods. Margot turns away and goes out the tent.
On that note, I’m off to enjoy my birthday which I will celebrate by trying to be as non-analytical as possible.
March 24th, 2007 at 3:28 pm
But yeah, I think you’re right that we can probably agree, we’re just dwelling on parts of the story that resonate for us.
I don’t see why my interpretation makes me a cynic, though. What’s so cynical about going to insane lengths to get a girl to like you? (Though now we’re going into my autobiography here…)
Also, Terri, I don’t know if he really accepts Margaret as a girlfriend. I think to some extent she just proves herself as a worthy leading lady for his productions. And she does pull him out of his funk (”Dirk. Take dictation. Possible members of a kite flying club. Margaret Yang, …”