The Royal Tenenbaums (2001, Wes Anderson)  Turns 20 this month, but as with any Wes Anders

The Royal Tenenbaums (2001, Wes Anderson)  Turns 20 this month, but as with any Wes Anderson picture, that’s a meaningless milestone because, as the director’s work exists in its own peculiar, marvelous realm, it therefore exists in its own time.The trademarks are on display: rigorously formal, symmetrical compositions (many of which are static tableau), color schemes so complex and thorough that Sherwin-Williams could build collections around them, and attention to detail that is better described as luxuriating in detail. It’s all an overwhelming and hilarious presentation that can induce mild vertigo, but the soundtrack offers breaks into soothing montage that slow the rhythms or establish new ones. Anderson is a miniaturist operating on a huge scale, lending the illusion that his sprawling universe of subplots, red herrings, arcane references, and ancillary characters exists within a shadowbox or doll house. Speaking of color schemes, observers have detected that The Royal Tenenbaums functions as a crimson and burgundy salute to Taxi Driver, all in-jokes about the Gypsy Cab Company aside. I see those cascades of red hues and pink compliments as wholly appropriate for a valentine. The browns and creams are a Whitman’s Sampler. After all, the story is essentially an elaborate construction of Royal’s big valentine: first to his estranged wife, then to his children, and finally to the life he almost had. Granted, Royal’s valentine is like one of those cards you grab at the pharmacy Hallmark section late on February 14 because you put off—or forgot—the matter. Now you’re in emergency mode. That explains the climactic scene as a long pan of moments on and around a fire engine.The entire affair can break your crazy mixed-up heart. -- source link

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