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at this time code. If you had met me in high school and thank
god you didn’t the two things you’d know about me is that I loved Spider-Man, and I
loved Wes Anderson films. When Jeff Loveness’s Spider-Man Wes Anderson
came out, people would run down the hallways yelling at me “Maggie!! Have you seen this yet, the two things you
love!!!” and it was, just absolutely the best thing I’d ever seen, does this story
make you feel old, Jeff? Yes. Absolutely. I grew up in a very quiet town, and I always
say the stillness in Anderson’s work is reminiscent of that feeling, of time standing
still while everything else is rushing past. Sometimes my family would go into Chicago
for a Saturday on the Amtrak and we’d run around FAO Schartz and stare at the Barbe
Shoe bubble fountain display. Or stare at one of the lifeless doll heads
at the American Girl Store. But then we’d come back to a tripod long
shot staring out the window while we returned home. Anderson’s first film, Bottle Rocket, directly
pulled from his experience growing up in Texas, and captures that pensive stillness that Anderson
would become known for. It was the first time I saw how I felt about
the way life felt translated into a film language that I understood intimately. Rushmore, his second feature film, also employs
this stillness, but instead of communicating the stillness of isolation from the world,
the stillness in Rushmore is our protagonist being isolated from everyone else, by his
own stunted immaturity. But in my opinion, it’s in the Royal Tenenbaums
where Anderson really elevates his presentational style. In a film about a family that has isolated
themselves from one another, he uses his characteristic visual approach to describe the fraught relationships
between the Royals. Just like a certain family member that I haven’t
spoken to in years. Hello? Hello. Hello! Royal is the first to leave the family when
he abandons them, slash, gets kicked out. Chas, the eldest Tenenbaum, lost his wife
in a plane crash and has been struggling with his grief. Margot hides behind a wall of secrecy, and
is in a loveless relationship with Bill Murray’s character -- even though the true love of
her life is her - not blood relative - Richie Tenebaum. Richie was a child tennis star, but when Margot
was pulled out of his life he wasn’t able to put it back together. Margot is also having an affair with their
childhood best friend Eli Cash, who is a second-rate novelist struggling with a mescaline addiction. The iconic character intro montage shows us
where the characters are at the beginning of the film. They each placed in a separate, highly stylized
box. They’re visually alone, and they’re also
alone-alone. Whereas in BOTTLE ROCKET Anderson’s stillness
was an indication of setting, and in Rushmore an indication of the main character’s POV,
in THE ROYAL TENENBAUMS the theatrical style reflects how the Royals feel about each other
- cold and distant. The first time we see Royal with the kids,
these shots make them feel as far apart from their father as possible, emphasizing the
emotional distance between them. A lot of the film takes place in this presentational
style, where we see a character is if they’re on a stage. Which is fitting, because many of them, especially
Royal, treat their own family as if they’re characters in a play. Royal is by all accounts a very selfish person
who has mistreated and neglected his family, and the presentational style of many of these
scenes only underscore the lack of warmth and love from the royal patriarch. Maybe the most affecting part of Anderson’s
aesthetic--and probably the most under discussed--are the moments when he chooses to break out of
his presentational style. In these moments, he signals that his characters
are finally being emotionally honest with one another. Royal and ethel are both key characters Royal and Ethel are both key characters throughout
the first act, but even in scenes where they’re in the same room, they’re never in the same
shot. Until 21 minutes in, when Royal confronts
Ethel. IOn this scene, Anderson abandons the montage-heavy,
storybook vibe he's used up until this point and suddenly switches to long takes that feel
much more natural. It’s the first scene in the film that really
lets characters dig into their relationship issues, even if Royal is being dishonest,
first saying that he’s dying, then admitting he’s not, then finally lying again and saying
he is. Royal is static, remaining firmly planted,
the stubborn old goat on the right side of frame, as Ethel moves back and forth, in and
out of frame, reacting to his manipulation. Etheline doesn’t have the luxury of being
a stuck, formerly-gifted child, as she had to raise the children on her own after Royal
left the family. Etheline had to move on, to keep going. One of my favorite scenes with Etheline is
when she’s at the archeological site with Henry, and though they’re both moving in
the same direction, Anderson places them on completely different planes, showing how though
they want the same thing they are still having trouble communicating that to each other. Another slow, famous scene from the Royal
Tenenbaums is Margot’s entrance. Set to These Days by Nico, this is the first
time they have seen each other in years. Richie is slowing the moment down in his mind,
camera soaking in every detail, a visual way to show us the longing that he’s felt for
her. Margot is having an affair with Eli, but they’re
never actually intimate with each other. The first time we see them together, the camera
cuts from a shot of Margot entering her room, to Eli hiding... in the closet. But instead of cutting back to Margot, Eli’s
shot cuts to the next scene--mirroring the grammar of Royal and Ethel’s relationship
in the long opening sequence. Although they’re in the same room, we don’t
see them in the same shot. There’s an emotional gap between them. Margot and Eli’s relationship culminates
in a single take, as they finally confront their broken friendship. They snipe at each other with petty insults. “You’re in love with Richie, which is
sick, and gross.” “Do you send my mother your clippings?” We follow along as the shot ping-pongs back
and forth, almost like we’re watching a tennis match, a competition. Margot was attracted to Eli’s success as
a writer. Eli was attracted to Margot’s place in Royal’s
family. They were having an affair for all the wrong
reasons. And by the end of this scene, they’ve come
around, finally understanding each other. Finally seeing things from the same perspective. And the scene is tagged with this brilliant
move, revealing the private detective watching over them. The overall scene not only recalled Richie’s
tennis match earlier, where Margot was the emotional center of attention. But the reveal of the private eye even matches
the way that we saw Royal watching Richie’s match from up high, looking down on everyone
else, trying to maintain some semblance of control over the family dynamics. And immediately after the bridge scene, we
cut to the private eye filling in Richie and Raleigh. Instead of just talking to Margot, instead
of confronting her and telling her how he feels, Richie falls into the same pattern
of behavior as his father, trying to control things from above. And failing. Of course, this refusal to communicate is
what leads into the most heart-wrenching scene in the film. Believing that Margot has chosen Eli, he removes
the costume he’s been hiding behind his whole adult life. This shot of Richie grooming himself appears
to match a lot of the shots we’ve already seen in the movie. It’s head on, flatly composed, and presentational. But what sets this shot apart is just how
close we are to the subject. There are almost no shots in the entire film
that place an actor this close to the camera, especially not with the actor looking directly
into the lens. Or when they do it only lasts for a few seconds,
and it happens to be the only other honest character in the movie. Here, Anderson puts us in Richie’s personal
space, and holds us there for an uncomfortably long time. Leading up to this scene, Anderson had established
two distinct styles in the film: on one hand, he uses presentational, montage-heavy sequences
that tell us about characters, while keeping them at an impersonal distance, illustrating
the emotional gulf between them. And on the other hand, he uses long, single-take,
naturalistic scenes where characters actually engage with each other and start to open up
in real time. But it’s in the bathroom scene that these
two styles converge. At about two minutes long, it’s one of the
longer scenes in the entire film, and it’s one of the most intimate--so emotionally it
feels like one of Anderson’s long, single-take scenes. And yet, it’s filled with jump cuts, abstract
iconography, and contains maybe the most breathtaking montage in the entire film--so, stylistically
it also resembles the more impersonal, presentational sequences. By combining his two wildly different styles,
for the first time in the film, Anderson makes us feel like we’re inside a character’s
mind, experiencing their emotions along with them. If you pay close attention to when Richie
cuts himself, both cuts are punctuated with an edit--a brief flash of the falcon Mordecai.It’s
as if Richie is trying to “edit” his self--the way you’d edit a bad scene out of a film. He’s trying to “cut” the adult he’s
become out of his own life, in a desperate attempt to return to the child he once was,
before his life spiraled out of control. In the beginning of the film the only thing
that unites all of the characters is their loneliness -- all of them, in some way, have
been isolated from one another. When all the characters are finally united
in the final wedding scene, Owen Wilson’s character in a mescaline-haze crashes his
car into the Royal House -- just as they’re all now crashing into each other’s lives. The camera starts zipping around the house,
matching the chaos. Grammatically, the entire film was building
to this moment. From the first, still character intros, to
this final frenetic explosion. And story wise, I’ve always loved--is that
the right word?--the ending of Royal passing away. There are many many works that tackle flawed
and narcissistic patriarchs. Anderson is a fellow bad-dad enthusiast, but
what really makes Royal’s arc work for me, is how Anderson focuses not just on him, but
on those he leaves behind, and how freeing it is for them to receive closure and move
on. When Royal finally does pass away, no one
speaks at his funeral, a fitting tribute to a man who used words as weapons, who would
never shut the hell up, who always filled space with meaningless bullshit. Even the epitaph he wrote for himself is bullshit. He was the most dishonest character, among
a cast of damaged people who were always hiding the truth from each other and themselves. But by coming back into his family’s lives,
he forced them to confront their demons and collide with each other. In the end, Royal redeemed himself by simply
accepting the fact that he can’t control his family. “I never understood any of us. I wish I could tell you what to do, but I
just can’t.” And maybe more importantly, by coming back,
he opened up space for the rest of the characters to redeem themselves. But aside from their personality flaws, the
whole time, there was another force keeping the Tenenbaums apart: Money. [phone rings] Hi sis. No you can’t come, and don’t even think
about it! MANY of the reasons the Royals have been isolated
from one can be boiled down to a financial problem. Royal is first separated from the family because
he is arrested for embezzlement. The only child he gave the time of day to
is the future tennis prodigy. Chaz, who started a business as a child, later
treats his own children like employees rather than his sons. Margot’s escapist lifestyle is only afforded
because of their wealth, presumably, and later her marriage with Bill Murray’s character. And Margot’s early success as a playwrightis
later attributed to her family’s financial status. Eli’s success only hit home how untalented
he truly is, and his inability to be honest with himself led to his addiction problems. The kids all monetized their passions since
their childhoods, so their lives became their jobs -- which pushed them away from each other,
and away from what they actually love doing. While Money explicitly created many of the
problems the Royals are dealing with, it’s only through addressing and examining their
relationships do they begin healing from their cold, distant upbringing. The Tenenbaums, to me, reads an empathetic
parody of wealthy families. The play-like esthetics Anderson’s style
is connected to the unreality of the absurdly rich. In many ways, the Tenenbaums themselves are
playing a family without really being one until the end of the film. Stiff, stillness is a common visual trope
used to portray financially affluent families. It’s a truism from life that has been translated
onto our art for centuries. The rich have the luxury of time. Their life is allowed to be slower. The poor and working class way more affected
by outside forces, it’s unpredictable and doesn’t have the luxury of stillness. I mean, this visual dichotomy is basically
the entire premise of DOWNTON ABBEY. Just compare when we’re above ground with
the Crawleys there’s an emphasis on stillness and formality, and then when we’re with
the mole people underground the scene is much more cluttered, loud, chaotic.”No! Don’t stop stirring! The butter’ll burn!” Stories like these can be described as a “comedy
of manners” -- satirizing the artificiality of posh society. One of the more famous examples being Oscar
Wilde’s THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING EARNEST. In this same vein, the fantastic film RULES
OF THE GAME from 1939 is a satirical look at upper-class French society at the brink
of World War II. There’s a film called THE EARRINGS OF MADAME
DE… from 1953 who’s lead character is so vapid on purpose it made me want to throw
a fancy chair through her expensive window dressings. It’s great! And I would put the TENENBAUMS right next
to them on a shelf. Which brings us to my first favorite Wes Anderson
film. [phone rings] I-- Were you gonna say something? Umm, no actually I think I was but now I don’t
remember. I-- Oh now I remember - yes, no, you can’t come. I know. Also, I don’t want to, and also, I can’t,
I have work. Okay well I actually do have to work right
now. Call me back in a few minutes. My junior year of high school I was in FULL
SWING training myself like a little polk-a-dotted rat to, in my mind, ACE the ACT’s and ride
my one-way ticket into Chicago. Stuck in stillness no more, I spent every
spare waking moment not with my friends drilling practice tests, but taking extra college classes,
guzzling down any possible scholarship opportunity, because equal to my need to escape was my
need to find a way to pay for it. Welcome to my YouTube channel. I knew getting a college education would mean
I would be paying out of my butt for years. And it in this absolute mess of a time in
my life when I saw Fantastic Mr. Fox. And it was the second time in my life I had
felt seen by Mr. Anderson. AFterRoyal Tenenbaums, Anderson made LIFE
AQUATIC which has one of my favorite rare Willem Defoe’s, but is otherwise an examination
of another doomed patriarchal character, and THE DARJEELING LIMITED, mine and many others
least favorite film, and maybe Wes Anderson’s as well, because after this film there was
a shift in perspective in Anderson’s work. What FANTASTIC MR. FOX has in common with the rest of Anderson’s
filmography is that it too looks at a flailing patriarch coming to terms with his age and
lot in life, except the Foxes in this story are unmistakingly lower-to-middle class. “But pines are pretty hard to come by in
your price range.” Mr. Fox and Mrs. Fox, voiced by Greorge Clooney
and Meryl Streep, begin as criminals, coded as free spirits who steal for fun and for
profit. But when Mrs. Fox reveals that she’s pregnant
Mr. Fox agrees to give up his life of crime and settle down. Fast forward a few years and Mr. Fox is unhappy
in his life, and at the center of that is he feels unsuccessful. And instead of listening to his wife, he goes
behind her back and sets out to achieve some sense of former glory which spectacularly
backfires and ends up unhousing his entire community. “A lot of good animals are probably going
to die, because of you!” Mr. Fox’s character arch is exemplified
by the two toasts he gives his wild animal companions. In the first, Mr. Fox drunkenly interrupts
Mr. Badger to take the spotlight and basically shade all of his neighbors. “But I guess we have--” “I’m sorry,
maybe my invitation got lost in the mail! Does anybody know what this badger is talking
about?” He’s basking in the glory of believing that
he’s “saved the town” but his speech is interrupted by an act of revenge from Bean,
who floods his hideout with his special Secret Cider. Literally, smacked in the face with his hubris
while being hubris. Later in the film, after Mr. Fox has come
to the realization that his ego has come at the expense of having actual genuine connections
with his community, and redos his toast. “I don’t like the toast I was giving. I want to start over.” This time, he’s able to recognize and appreciate
his neighbor’s unique talents and gifts. “Mole, talpa europea.Whadda ya got?” “I can see in the dark…” “That’s incredible! Beaver! Castor fiber!” “I can chew through wood!” “Amazing! Badger, meles meles.” “Demolitions expert!” “What? Since when?” And then there’s Ash, this son. He’s different. Ash has grown up in his Dad’s shadow, and
is desperate for his father’s approval, though he also resents that he needs it. “I think I’m an athlete, and sometimes
I feel like you guys don’t seem e that way.” Ash’s cousin Kristofferson comes to stay
with the family for the summer, and he is everything Mr. Fox wishes his own son would
be. “Wow! Look at that! This kid’s a natural! I’m speechless, Kristoferson!” To me, this film has Anderson’s best flailing
Patriarch arch. Throughout the film we see Mr. Fox place his
idea of himself over those around him, and we see how it pushes his own son away. It’s not until Mr. Fox comes to that realization
“I think I have this thing where I need everybody to think I’m the greatest, the
quote-unquote Fantastic Mr Fox” and starts acting selflessly to liberate the town, do
they succeed. And it’s not until he accepts Ash for who
he is, that he regains his son’s trust. And while I love the story about a town coming
together, a patriarch learning to put others first instead of himself, and animals rising
up against their clay people overlords, most of all I love the pure, raw, animal energy
radiating from the screen. Nothing on camera is ever still. Because of this style of claymation and Anderson’s
insistence on using real animal fur, on screen everything moves like a Van Gogh painting,
everything vibrates. Nothing is ever still in the Fantastic Fox
universe. It radiates energy in every moment. One of my favorite scenes is when the teacher,
played by Anderson University Alumnus Owen Wilson, tells Ash (and us) the rules of Whackbat. There’s a scene when Mr. Fox and Wylie are
stealing squaabs and we track their movement through the security cameras. There’s a classroom explosion, rabid dogs,
and halfway through the movie stop for what’s basically a music video. Even the way the characters eat is comically
animalistic. It’s such a departure from Anderson’s
highly-stylized live action films, while somehow also being one of his most stylized films. And what a fitting way to portray a family
who is an almost inverse of the Tenenbaums. In the Royal Tenenbaums, money is always there
in the background, informing the characters’ actions, but always unspoken and implicit. It wasn’t so much a concrete obstacle, as
a constant source of underlying anxiety. But in Fantastic Mr Fox, wealth is what the
rich use to stomp on the poor, while maintaining an unequal society. [dial tone] [phone rings] Hello? Hello. Hello? Hello! No, mother, he called me on his own! You’ve always pitted us against each other,
lying and saying doubles “wasn’t a thing.” Well, not anymore. You know what? Go ahead, write me out of the will. Write us both out while you’re at it. We don’t need your approval or your conditional
love anymore.” Hello? [dial tone] Just like Royal Tenenbaum, Mr. Fox is preoccupied
with what others think of him and his own mystique rather than how he treats his fellow
animals. And, this includes his wealth status within
the community. His desire to live above ground is directly
connected to the way Mr. Fox wants to be seen - he wants to be quote unquote “fantastic,”
and to him this does NOT include living in a hole in the ground. The Evil Human Farmers catch wind of Mr. Fox
and wage war on the animals -- all because of Mr. Fox’s obsession with his own self-image. “Tails don’t grow back. I’m gonna be tailless for the rest of my
life.” The characters Boggis Bunce and Beans, are
depicted as evil capitalists, who will stop at nothing to taxidermy Mr. Fox, or anyone
who dares mess with their profits or ego. The animals are the underdogs, pun intended,
who end up completely displaced because of Mr. Fox’s blind ambition. *cough cough Animal Farm* The empty hollow eyes and general deathly
appearance of the farmers is another satirical take on wealth -- instead of emptiness conveyed
through distancing techniques, it’s created through the visual characterization of three
men who literally do nothing all day but stockpile the foods they produce in factory farms, sit
around, and shut down fun. Just, pure misery, these three. The character Rat, my favorite rare Willem
Defore. He was high school rivals with Mr. Fox, but
now works for their oppressors, as he’s the security guard for Bean’s Secret Cider
Cellar. “It’s my job.” Small details like this point to the systems
at play that pit animals against one another. Along with the fast paced editing and dialogue,
Anderson dedicates long, smooth tracking shots to showing the animals working together as
a community. I love how intricate and detailed these scenes
are, and how the characters almost talk at animal speed. One the one hand, these scenes again underscore
the realities of the working class, the limited resources, “I’m hungry.” “Well, have some water.” and the amount of work that goes into not
getting squashed. However, the scenes are also touching, as
throughout the film we’re being shown what Mr. Fox is actually looking for in his life:
to be a more active member of his community. Not through power or the prestige of living
in an above-ground house, but by celebrating each other’s differences and working together
to take down their human overlords. The frenetic energy of Fantastic Mr. Fox is
a departure from the kind of films Anderson had been making right before this, from Royal
Tenenbaums, to Life Aquatic Darjeeling Limited, which all center affluent characters. It’s extremely hard being a wild animal,
especially one that has no power over those few farmers at the top. The sharp editing, the cutaways, the one-liners,
the script which I can quote front to back -- this movie arrived at a time in my life
when I *was* trying to get myself out of what I felt like was a “hole in the ground.” While outwardly I deeply related to Ash, “I’m
grumpy, I spit, I wake up on the wrong side of the bed. I’m just different, apparently.” I also really felt for Mr. Fox’s journey. Though I had been waiting to leave my slow
town ever since I was 12 watching Bottle Rocket in my basement, by the time I watched Fantastic
Mr. Fox I realized that what I was looking for was just a facade, a comedy of errors
-- and what I really wanted, I already had. People that loved me for who I was; an athlete. [dialing] [busy signal] [eagle screech] Eagle, please deliver to Maggie’s editing
room. Proud of you sis. Hey, did you know doubles is a thing? Maybe next year. Have a good Olympics. J. Wes Anderson's aesthetic is easy to parody
because it’s so distinct, but less often do I see discussed why Anderson makes these
choices, and more importantly, when and why he breaks them. And even less so how much of a departure Fantastic
Mr. Fox was from what he had done previously, and his films were never the same again. Instead of children trying to act like adults,
Moonrise Kingdom, The Grand Budapest, and Isle of Dogs all feature children desperately
trying to protect their childhoods from the corruption of adult cynicism. I think that perspective shift opened the
doors for some of Anderson’s most earnest and sincere work. And though the filmmaking has a stage-like
quality, I can say the Royal Tenenbaums and Fantastic Mr. Fox resonated with me on a very
deep and personal level. Wes Anderson is not one who shies away from
showing that his films are stories, often couching his films in devices, like a narrator,
stage curtains, or in this case, a book. But I think that’s because Anderson knows
that stories, even if they are just stories, have that power to portray deep emotional
truths. All that being said, when discussing Anderson,
it’s always relevant to point out the stark… white, maleness of his casts, and his limitations
of trying to depict stories outside of that bubble. Danny Glover’s Henry Sherman -- who is probably
my favorite Tenenbaum character next to Margo, is underutilized given the fact that he is
a literal symbol of freedom from Royal. Not to mention the moral backbone of the film. As fun as his distancing techniques can be,
if you already don’t feel included in a Wes Anderson story, that same distance can
make it really difficult to engage with his work. Below I’m linking some articles and videos
by people who know more than me on the topic. I know he dresses like he’s from London,
but I hope that if this look at Anderson has reminded you of anything, it’s that he is
absolutely an American filmmaker from Texas, baby. As a fan of symmetry and production design
and Jason Schwartman, I have loved and been deeply moved by Anderson’s filmography,
and I appreciate that pool of emotion right beneath his occasionally impenetrable dollhouse
facade. Many of Anderson’s Patriarch characters
feel like they’d be more comfortable jumping out of the movie, and just monologuing at
you right there in your living room (especially Royal and Mr. Fox.) But Anderson doesn’t let them. He traps them in their own world, forcing
them to face the consequences of their actions and the people they’ve hurt. And the characters with the most honesty and
humanity--or those who learn the value of honesty and humanity--are the ones who come
out on top. Hotbox! This video is brought to you by Curiosity
Stream and my streaming service, Nebula. If you sign up for Curiosity Stream with my
link below, you’ll also get a free subscription to Nebula. You’ll find all my other videos on Nebula,
ad-free, along with videos from your favorite creators like Princess Weekes and Mia Moulder! Because Nebula is SUCH a great platform, Curiosity
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Stream and Nebula at a 26 percent discount if you sign up at www dot curiosity stream
dot com slash mm fish. Curiosity Stream is the streaming service
with thousands of documentaries at the tips of your fingers. If all this talk about Wes Anderson and his
aesthetic makes you want to scratch your fashion itch, check out Diana Vreeland: The Eye Has
to Travel, about the life and work of the influential editor of Harpers Bazaar. My favorite part is when she makes fun of
Hitler’s mustache. That’s one full year of two great streaming
services, for just 14 dollars and 79 cents. Being on Nebula gives me and so many of your
favs the creative freedom to make videos like the one you just saw, so go sign up, what
are you waiting for?! Just a quick, serious word about the proposed
2028 Olympics in Los Angeles. The Olympics is truly devastating for local
communities, and leads to increased police brutality against marginalized people. If you’re interested, head over to nolympics
dot com and check it out. Thanks for watching! And an extra special thanks to my patrons. If you want to support, and see your name
alongside these fine folks, go to patreon dot com slash maggie mae fish to sign up. Thanks to Jared Gilman, and Jeff Loveness
for letting me borrow your face. Overthrow our human overlords and save Martha.
