‘The Royal Tenenbaums’

So, what happens when you bring Ben Stiller, Gwyneth Paltrow, Luke Wilson, Angelica Houston, Bill Murray, Danny Glover, Owen Wilson, and Gene Hackman together in the same movie? A strange concoction of hilariously-heartbreaking proportions. Wes Anderson is a director that came out of the New American Independent Cinema of the ’90s. Surrounded by peers like Quentin Tarantino and Sofia Coppola, he cultivated a technique and style that made him stick out like a sore thumb — if “sore” in this case meant “diamond.” Since his debut, Anderson has solidified his status as a distinctive American director, most importantly with 2001’s The Royal Tenenbaums. Just to set the record straight, I saw this film at an age that was nowhere near appropriate for its “R” rating. I just remember desperately wanting to see it because it was unlike anything I’d ever seen at that point. It was odd, and a little “off,” and that seemed interesting to me. Seeing Gwyneth Paltrow with that strange blunt, razor-edge bob, and Ben Stiller rocking a red tracksuit with the worst self-inflicted afro seemed like an exercise in incredible quirk (with gorgeous cinematography and deep-space shots to boot). I never got to see it in theatres, but immediately rented it as soon as came out DVD — a little bit of trickery was required for that task; parents really should pay more attention to ratings. What I saw that night, though, pretty much changed my perspective and taste in movies forever. This is the film that cultivated a greater appreciation for cinema in me.

The opening scene of The Royal Tenenbaums is really quite creative, and tells you everything you need to know about Anderson’s style. The film is narrated by none other than Alec Baldwin, and is told like a book; there are multiple chapters throughout. When we’re introduced to the three prodigal Tenenbaum children — Richie, the tennis star (Luke Wilson); Margot, the adopted playwright (Gwyneth Paltrow); and Chas, the financial whiz (Ben Stiller) — a instrumental cover of “Hey Jude” plays over their respective childhoods.

As adults, the Tenenbaums are disturbed members of society, each self-destructing in their own special way. Chas’ wife has died and now has practice fire drills every night with his two sons. They also wear the same wardrobe. Margot has had a string of marriages, lost a finger, and is currently stuck in a completely dead-on-arrival marriage. And Richie – semi-incestuous love for his adopted sister aside – has reached breaking point, with his tennis career coming to a screeching halt and choosing to live a reclusive sea-faring life.

When their estranged father, Royal (who, by the way, has been living in a hotel for some 20-odd years and played wonderfully by Gene Hackman) returns to the picture and informs them of his terminal illness and eviction, the family comes together with extremely disastrous results.

Royal is the anti-hero in every sense of the term. He’s a terrible father and a compulsive liar. Yet, when he notices that his grandsons are living stifling childhoods because of their tightly-wound father, he takes them on a spree throughout the city that involves hopping rides from passing garbage trucks, stealing milk from the corner store, and go-cart racing. For all intents and purposes, he means well. He’s just a little socially inept, as evidenced by his terrible habit of constantly introducing Margot as his “adopted daughter.” He’s the character you hate to love.

Still, as a testament to Anderson’s understanding of human depth and emotion, he instills an extremely harrowing scene amidst all of this “fun.” There’s a scene where Richie stares in the mirror and decides to shave his shoulder-length hair and lumberjack beard, followed by a sad declaration. This scene is filmed so beautifully, and without irony, that it’s one of the most memorable scenes you’ll ever see. And in perfect Anderson style, the scene ends with a fantastic cut-away to a secondary character, followed by an incredibly absurd joke in the next scene.

Anderson’s ability to bring us this odd mix of joy and sadness is why he’s one of my favorite directors. He captures the two most important emotions in the human existence with such ease, purpose, and genuine love – a task that he achieves again in 2009’s The Fantastic Mr Fox. I adore The Royal Tenenbaums for its irreverence, its unashamed quirk, and its simplicity. It also holds the distinction of containing the only Gwyneth Paltrow performance that I enjoy, but that’s a whole other story.