Au soleil, sous la pluie, à midi ou à minuit

[spatch]

Wes Anderson's The Darjeeling Limited is an astounding piece of cinematic achievement, and I mean that with but a wee bit of hyperbole there. It's not an instant classic, not something that'll endure throughout the ages, perhaps, but it is a feat of wizardry. It is a magic trick in film stock.

Put it this way: We went to the 7:15 showing tonight. At 7:15, the lights went down, we watched some ads, about a zillion trailers for indie films (a lot more than I remember seeing normally), then we watched the Hotel Chevalier short, which Wes shot in a few days with Natalie Portman and Jason Schwartzman and then edited on his own computer. It served as a prologue of sorts to the feature presentation, which was comprised of many of these short story moments. So many little vignettes, so many mini story arcs within the main one that, as Carolyn noted, you could take one out of the film and it'd work on its own separately. (Wes understood this because he uses one of his favorite devices, the slow-motion walk set to music which usually signifies the end of a story, at least three times through the course of the film.)

But that's not the real magic trick. Sticking little stories to one big one isn't such a magic trick. What is, however, is the journey you take along with Schwartzman, Owen Wilson and Adrien Brody. You may not be on the same spiritual journey as they claim to be, but you gamely go along for the ride. And the journey takes forever. The problem with so many short stories playing themselves out here is that every time one ends, you think it's the end of the film as well. So you get quite a few codas before what is ultimately quite a satisfying ending considering all you've been through, complete with the visual metaphor you've been waiting for since you noticed that certain device waaaaaaaaaaaay back when.

And the magic trick? Well, remember how I said we started the previews and then the short at 7:15? The film ended, I sat through the full credits (and if someone can get me an original copy of Joe Dassin's "Les Champs-Élysées", as iTunes won't let me download anything but cover songs of this tune unless I buy the entire Darjeeling soundtrack and I don't want to, I'd love ya forevs) and once everything was over and the ushers started cleaning the aisles, I got up and turned my cellphone back on.

It wasn't even 9:15 yet.

So that's the magic trick. Wes Anderson was able to make an incredibly long movie, an amazingly long movie, one which really amplifies the long journey taken on the train (and did I mention the absolutely beautiful train sets? And the absolutely beautiful natural landscape of India? And the absolutely beautiful cinematography? And the rich, saturated colors?) and left you feeling as tired out as you would after a journey of such great length, in a 91-minute run time.

No, seriously. Check it out on IMDB. It's an hour and a half long. And it feels twice that.

This is both a good thing and a bad thing, really. The good is that the pacing is such that you really do get to savor the beauty of the meticulously-prepared scenes, the truly emotional-yet-detached moments which Anderson loves (Anjelica Huston's scenes are a perfect example, and done quite well) and the long shots of the wide-open countryside which serve as perfect contrast to the tight shots of the claustrophobic train corridors. The camera lingers when necessary, even over slow dolly shots (hey, it's on tracks, too) which just keep on going.

Yet it's only an hour and a half.

The bad part is that we're wired to watch a film and recognize the emotional climax leading up to the actual ending, full stop, roll credits. And although I was well aware of all these little arcs resolving themselves, I felt like I was getting faked out each time. And each time I got faked out, the movie felt like it was stretching on longer and longer until I felt like we were reaching Lawrence of Arabia-esque running times.

But it's only an hour and a half.

Wrap that 'round your noggin.

But do enjoy the scenery while you're at it. It really is a beautiful movie. You just have to let things go, let the film take you at whatever speed it wants to, and try to remember that the Darjeeling Limited's a local train and makes many stops before its final destination.

(Oh, and big points for Hotel Chevalier as it successfully manages to convey through ambiance, atmosphere and one outdoor shot that is indeed set in Paris -- without once showing the Eiffel Tower.)

Comments

[sup3rmark.livejournal.com]

if you're referring to the version of the song from the movie, then i can definitely help you out. send me an IM (my screen name is in my info), and i'll send it to you.

[modpixie.livejournal.com]

i bought a copy of the soundtrack. if you need anything, be sure and let me know. ::coughs::

i loved TDL for my own variety of personal reasons, but you summed up a lot of its problems well here.

[mybadhairlife.livejournal.com]

I'd like to thank you for a discussion of Hotel Chevalier that does not contain any references to Natalie Portman's chesticles. (This is the only reason I personally knew that the prequel existed.)

[gwynethfar.livejournal.com]

Word. I read the title and went, "Oh, the one with Natalie Portmans boobies." I had no idea, up until now, that Wes Anderson had anything to do with it.

[spatch]

Frankly, that part was quite disturbing. The scene changes from torpor (Schwartzman languishing about) to passion (sudden clinching, desperate physical contact, emotionless seduction) to physical revulsion (hideous bruises on the arm) to morose introspection ("I promise that I will never be your friend") to this bizarrely inhuman shot of Portman, contorted for modesty and showing more ribs than the rack that tipped over Fred Flintstone's car.

Never once during the short did I have any conscious "hey, Natalie Portman showing skin!" The characters had done what they were suppsoed to do, make me think about them rather than the fact that a starlet was "finally" disrobing on camera. Perhaps I don't share that fascination. I dunno.

[gwynethfar.livejournal.com]

Wait, wait... they don't show the Eiffel Tower? HOW DO YOU KNOW IT'S PARIS? ^_-

[spatch]

I don't know! It looked all French and shit! MAYBE IT WAS TOURS! NOW I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO BELIEVE!

(do you share the similar snarky urge, every time you see an establishing shot of Paris with la tour Eiffel prominently featured, to go "OH HAY WAIT WE'RE IN PARIS?!" And wasn't there a shot of the tower in the one Paris scene in The Royal Tenenbaums?)

[gwynethfar.livejournal.com]

The thing that destroys me inside every time I see a shot of the Eiffel tower in a movie is that there are so many other landmarks they could choose that would work just as well.

It even happens in Sunday In The Park With George, in a way, because the characters suddenly start talking about "that horrible tower" that is being built, for no apparent reason. Like a normal person isn't going to realize that the characters in the famous French painting are in France?

I don't know about the Royal Tenenbaums, because I haven't seen it in so, so long. I think that movie came out right after I had my son, and most of it is lost to post partum depression memory loss, but I do remember the brilliant scenes with Bill Murray and Gwyneth Paltrow. That movie was gold.

I think I'll add that to my netflix queue and watch it again.

[spatch]

I'll give Sunday in the Park with George a pass because, at the time of the first act, there really was much discussion about Gustave Eiffel and his scheme to build a blight on the skyline of Paris for his Exposition entry. So there's at least historical accuracy in those exchanges and not just HEY WE'RE IN PARIS LET'S SEE THE EIFFEL TOWER I'M WEARING A BERET exposition.

("HEY, I'M IN NEW YORK! I GOT A GUN! LET'S GO TO A BROADWAY SHOW!")

The Paris scene in Tenenbaums is one shot in the montage of Margot's lovers, where they stand looking out a French window and I'm pretty sure the tower is reflected in the glass.

[fancycwabs.livejournal.com]

Well, they DO play the first ten notes of "La Marsiellaise" at every scene change, as all good movies do to let you know you're in Paris.

Edit: HOLY SHIT! You can edit comments now?!

[hermitgeecko.livejournal.com]

I'm fairly sure they said they were in Paris.

Though maybe I'm hallucinating it?