The Life Aquatic with Spoilers Foryou

I was sly, and made sure to see this film on opening day. Sly, because opening day is usually reserved for dorky instant cult classics like AVP, while here I am seeing the most off-beat film I know.

Yeah, off-beat is the word you're all looking for. Wes Anderson has either never understood the rhythms of Hollywood, or he's choosen to purposfully avoid them, as they generally produce crap. In either case, it's what I'm going to pompously call post-modern film-making. Since we've seen 100,000 films with the same structural goals, it's time to start ever-so-slightly edging away, and into new ground. Shaky ground. Take, for example, the opening scenes of The Life Aquatic. There is no high-energy intro, with some radical song playing, or even a moody set of credits on black. It begins, and we aren't sure of it. There's a film that Steve Zissou (Bill Murray) and his crew of the Belafonte have made, that nobody really knows what to do with. Then a series of responses that Steve doesn't care about, and an introduction to several characters to whom we aren't sure we should become attached (other than the fact that they are played by actors who we know get top billing in the film). And it's Wes Anderson's way. He has an ensemble that reacts so emotionlessly to any given stimuli, that the audience isn't sure they should be taking said stimuli to heart. People are used to being told what's important, and what isn't. So here's Wes Anderson, assigning *everything* in his film importance (the sign of a good artist), but assigning it within a gauge. Analogue versus digital. And it's up to the audience to interact with the film, by learning what *his* rhythms are. As a result, each audience might take their own ideas away. Basically, Anderson has created art, rather than a movie.

It isn't until a third or so into the film that a sort of opening sequence plays, and it's clear that it is only then that Steve Zissou has some momentum. His life has actual points of interest in it once again, and just maybe there's a reason to live. So, it's perfect that Anderson waits this long to show an up-beat sequence, but still, it was jarring waiting for it. And this is the case in all of his films (though I don't know Bottle Rocket as well). The plot goes all over the place, often in roundabout ways (after The Life Aquatic, I heard some audience member say to his girlfriend that there were times that he wasn't sure where the film was going, and I thought "I see what he means, but at the same time, isn't that a good thing?"), and we aren't sure of our footing, because we've learned we can never predict what he's doing with the film. It isn't until the end of the film when we finally feel we've arrived. Which is exactly what should make an ending.

I think that as bizarre (and born from his and Owen Wilson's *super* dry sense of humor) as his characters are, they feel pretty real. Willem Dafoe's character Klaus is a real douche to Steve's maybe-son Ned (Owen Wilson), because he's clearly jealous that Ned's suddenly shown up and changed the balance of the crew. But after they confront one another, he doesn't keep the antagonism up. It isn't inconsistent, it's realistic. Who would *just* resprisent their frustration with you, after a conflict? How they treat you would ebb and flow in an organic way, and Anderson's characters do this. Anderson's films do this. His films remind me of novels, the way a series of semi-plausible events follow a very hard to pin-down arc. It's real life, man.

And it's gotten more so this way over the course of his films. Rushmore tended to remain energetic, and in it's own way, shiny. But when it was made clear to Anderson that audiences would respond, and could understand, his sense of humor, he pitched it way up for The Royal Tennenbaums. The idea of something very dark happening amidst something hilarious. Or, for that matter, the ability to find something funny only once you've seen it once before. And in a way, I find this to be harmful, simply because it's a form of self-indulgence. The more he generates stark, "Wes Anderson-ey" moods, the further he moves from his audience. Now, with The Life Aquatic, he's sort of found a balance. In a way, he's gotten harder to meet half way, but at the same time, he's going so all out (awesome gun battles, scary pirates, deep sea adventure, weird pseudo-special effects--can anybody tell me what's up with those?), that you're ready for his strange beats. And it really isn't as stark (no attempted suicides this time), since there's so much going on, externally. And the characters weren't quite so childish. The most extreme example of this, in all his films, that I can recall off-hand, is in Bottle Rocket, Owen Wilson's character is truly a child, but no one ever tells him this, they just think that's how human beings are supposed to interact. Again with Max Fisher (Jason Schwartzman), slightly less so with Gene Hackman, and, really, very little with Bill Murray (although in The Royal Tennenbaums, Murray was quite the melodramatist, so there ya go). It's as if his characters are becoming less asshole-ish, but their world's are becoming more wacky. The fad that Anderson created, that spawned the INCREDIBLY self-indulgent Napoleon Dynamite, is already becoming apparent for it's contrived nature.

I came away feeling really good about this film. That it had done what it had set out to do--Steve had learned something about life, the crew were heroes, not washed up loosers. That *I* had learned something, or at least was reminded of something (life's an adventure no matter what you do). Still, I can't quite reconcile Ned's death. Did he die to teach Steve that it's not who is in your life, or who comes and goes, but rather what you do with what you have? Well, he seemed to learnt hat lesson very quickly, and without clueing us in on it. I suppose such an idea was introduced when the adopted dog, Cody, was left behind.

So you can see, I'm still not one hundred percent sure about the choices in this film (the way I am, and always will be, for Rushmore), but it overcame any of that. And, once again, I will heartily recommend the work of Wes Anderson to anyone I pass on the street.