Those who doubt how thoroughly the sensibilities of the French New Wave have been absorbed into the work of today's filmmakers (see discussion of the recently posted Opening Shot for Truffaut's "The 400 Blows") should check out Matt Zoller Seitz's series of video exploring the "scavenger-hunt" sensibility of Wes Anderson, "The Substance of Style," at Moving Image Source. Part 1 (of five) has been posted, with the rest to follow over the first week in April.
Matt -- as writer, editor and narrator -- not only compares images that Anderson has lovingly quoted and reinterpreted from the works of François Truffaut, Orson Welles and Charles Schultz (and Bill Melendez, director of the Peanuts television specials), but teases out subtler influences at play in Anderson's work -- his features ("Bottle Rocket," "Rushmore," "The Royal Tennenbaums," "The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou," "The Darjeeling Limited), shorts and commercials, including his famous American Express ad based on the Opening Shot of Truffaut's "Day for Night." (Coming in Part 2: Martin Scorsese, Richard Lester and Mike Nichols.) Says Matt:
Anderson draws much inspiration from French New Wave filmmakers, including Jean-Luc Godard, a clear influence on his cutting, and Louis Malle, whose "Murmur of the Heart" heavily influenced the tone of all his films. But towering over the rest is François Truffaut, an impresario in the Welles tradition, but a warmer and more earthbound auteur.
There's a Peanuts connection here too. Truffaut's autobiographical Antoine Doinel series maps the internal terrain where childhood and maturity meet, clash, and coexist. Anderson pays tribute to Truffaut by quoting shots directly, but reversing their screen direction. Think of the lateral tracking shot through the classroom in "The 400 Blows" mirrored in the first scene of "Rushmore," and from that same Truffaut film, the shot of Antoine in a chain-link cage, an image repeated in the penultimate shot of "Bottle Rocket."
The goal of the series is to juxtapose...
... Anderson's cultural influences against his films onscreen, the better to show how he integrates a staggeringly diverse array of source material into a recognizable, and widely imitated, whole. It will examine some, but certainly not all, of Anderson's evident inspirations. Along the way, it may incidentally illuminate why Anderson-esque movies--from "Garden State" to "Son of Rambow" -- can seem, no matter what their virtues or pleasures, a weak substitute for the real thing.
Anderson's scavenger-hunt aesthetic stands him in good company, alongside Quentin Tarantino, David Gordon Green, James Gray, and the other Anderson, P.T. But what makes Wes Anderson distinctive is the sheer range of art that has fed his imagination -- not just recent American and foreign films, but films from 30, 50, even 70 years ago, plus newspaper comics, illustrations, and fiction. The spectrum of influence gives his work a diversity of tone that his imitators typically lack. It is a style of substance.
Watch for the cheeseburger phone.
Anderson's American Express/"Day for Night" ad:
I was first introduced to Wes Anderson after picking up a $10 (CDN) copy of Criterion's ediition of The Royal Tenenbaums. It was an impulse purchase, and largely made because it was a a cheap purchase from a typically expensive company (trust me, the logic is perfectly sound).
For me, it was a great introduction to Anderson's style, which reminds me of Jacques Tati whom isn't mentioned in the excerpt posted by Jim. There is a sense of orderliness and punctuality in the films of both directors: Anderson employs intensely meticulous compositions, whether it is a house, a train car, a boat, or (most memorably) a closet full of board games - these details remind one of Tati's shots of cityscapes and roadways. There is also a degree of absurdity to Anderson's use of body language, clothing and facial expressions - again, the physically rhythmic humour in Tati's films is reminiscient.
Something else that Anderson deserves credit for is his choice of music in his films (notably Elliott Smith in Tenenbaums and David Bowie in Aquatic). Unlike Tarantino and (at times) PT Anderson, both of whom are excellent directors that make exceptional use of music in their films, Wes Anderson rarely uses music in an ironic sense. Personal taste obviously factors into appeciating such things, but Anderson is very clever in how he uses the soundtrack to elevate the emotional tone of a scene. Going back to Tenenbaums, the combination of Elliott Smith's "Needle in the Hay" and Luke Wilson's suicide scene was absolutely devastating.
Thanks for this post, Jim.
What I'm amazed by is how "influential" Anderson is to this decade's overall style, how people who were turned on by Rushmore appropriated the style he appropriated from the French New Wave (and American New Wave folks like Ashby and Scorsese) turned it into a culturally viable accessory known as "indie" (it's no longer a "means", its a "method"). Look at art design, clothing, popular movies that stay "just out" of the total mainstream (like "Juno", "Garden State", "I Heart Huckabees"), etc. A lot of it pertaining to the current up-and-coming generations lies in the first three films of Anderson.
A highly dubious speculation on my part, but one thought I have as to why many people adore those films (at least in style), is because there's a subconscious undercurrent of a believable, existing supernatural presence. That presence is Anderson of course, but it's disguised in his universes as God. Characters will appear at opportune moments, will say opportune things, all out of Anderson's divine order. It's not a criticism at all, in fact one of his endearing qualities is his personal stamp (and his interview demeanor as well, very quiet, unassuming, and unpretentious -- a remarkable contrast to the stereotypical Hollywood director or Tarantino). In today's era of ambiguity, I think the "indie" scene is looking for escapism where they can feel divine order is present, even if they don't believe in it themselves.
Just my thoughts though. Could be neglecting other important pieces of info.
Wow, I couldn't disagree more. The reason Wes Anderson is so influential is that his films strategically shield themselves with irony. They're all style and mockery, the ultimate catnip for hipsters.
That was a great commercial. I think I remember seeing that a few years ago at a theater before the movie started, and, of course, at that time, not only did I not know who Wes Anderson was, but I most certainly did not know who Francois Truffaut is.
It's great to notice the distinctions between this commercial and Day for Night (a fantastic film to emmulate). Just seeing Anderson bascially dress up as Leaud's character is great enough, but you've got the score, and the looking at the guns to shoot, and everything, all put together tremendously in nearly one perfectly meticulous shot (so much more is going on than it seems). Anderson's love for movies appears to show no bounds, whether he's obviously homaging something, or whether he's very subtely drawing us into something only one with a keen eye would notice.
Savvy
Ron,
Yes, but the "style and mockery" in Anderson's films usually masks deep unhappiness, insecurity and/or grief, just like so many of us do in real life. So is this quality a shield for Anderson and his films, or is it an acknowledgement, a revelation (and even an occasional lifting) of this shield through his art?
I find the emotional reality beneath all the surface artificiality extremely moving, and I think The Life Aquatic is a masterpiiece of its kind.
Lastly, if Anderson's art was mere "catnip for hipsters," I'm pretty sure Armond White would be on to him by now, instead of one of his most ardent admirers. : )
(Not that Armond necissarily has the corner on hipster identification....)
Ron, while I can see why the oft cited criticism of Anderson (that he's a too cute, self-aware hipster who makes films for those who don't want to take emotions too seriously or even mean what they say) might seem seductively applicable, I've always thought it was a little simplistic and unfair.
You say that he strategically shields his films, but I'd say that criticism is more applicable to the characters; they shield themselves in layers of self-aware quirk and surface level affect to protect a particularly raw and pure emotional core. His films reflect this; they are very sincerely emotional films that are cluttered with precocious detail. Working through that outer shell can be fun and revelatory for those who recognize its reality; I can see how for those who don't relate to it in any way, it would be at best annoying and infuriating.
Particularly of the younger generation, I've found this Andersonian style to be a particularly astute commentary, and it's why, along with a keen and inventive visual wit, he is one of my very favourite filmmakers.
Sorry if that makes me an unthinking hipster.
"Yes, but the "style and mockery" in Anderson's films usually masks deep unhappiness, insecurity and/or grief, just like so many of us do in real life."
"His films reflect this; they are very sincerely emotional films that are cluttered with precocious detail."
I rented Tenenbaums once, to watch with my father. He became visibly uncomfortable and had to leave after the first 15 minutes or so -- ostensibly because he had something else to do -- probably because Royal subconsciously reminded him of himself in a very deep, distressing way. Because of this I owe Wes Anderson everlasting respect.
Hmmm. Love Rushmore. One of the best movies of the 90s. Near perfect, if not absolutely perfect.
Was not interested in anything else after I saw TRT.
I have a feeling of ambivalence about Anderson (and Sophia Coppola) that is akin to how some people feel about Tarantino. Style but no substance. Not so much "mockery" as a lack of new ideas.
"Sigh"
Charles SCHULZ
not Schultz.
Anderson's films have heart. They just don't wear it on their sleeve.