First, let’s get this out of the
way. I’ll occasionally review films on this blog. These films will probably not
be in theaters, because, as a dad, it’s hard for me to get away and go to a
theater. The films I review could be recent films, or they could be downright
ancient films. They just happen to be movies that I’ve recently seen and find
interesting. I’m a critic on a shoestring budget, armed only with a Netflix
account.
Now, this brings us to Wes Anderson’s Moonrise Kingdom, which premiered last
June, but I only saw it recently. Much ink has already been spilled over what
Anderson himself has referred to as his “handwriting,” that is the unique imprimatur
that he puts on his films. We recognize, over his seven features, the same filmmaking
that relies upon pans and long shots. We recognize a pallet of basic colors
that have a warm, vintage look to them, as if shot in Kodachrome. We see the
same characters, typically men but occasionally women, rebelling in their
ineffectual deadpan way against the tidy, tweedy, oak paneled, tennis courted world
of the patrician eastern seaboard bourgeoisie.
Bottle
Rocket has men pretending to be boys, pretending to be criminals. Rushmore has boys pretending to be men,
pretending to be criminals. Darjeeling Limited
has men who have remained boys, but pretend to be men. Masculinity and the
lampooning of traditional masculinity play an important role in these films,
and Moonrise Kingdom is no exception.
However, with Moonrise and 2009’s Fantastic
Mr. Fox, Anderson embraces traditional masculinity as redemptive,
empowering, and noble, while still camping on that idea. His previous films
portray masculinity as a kind of grail quest doomed to failure that has been undertaken
by misguided, ill-equipped boy/men. Darjeeling
has adult men who have remained boys and fail to even commit to the quest of
redemptive adult manhood, because masculinity, in their case, can never be
achieved. In Life Aquatic you have a middle-aged
man, played by Anderson perennial Bill Murray, who has made a living out of
appearing to be a virile, adventuresome tough-guy, but has now grown weary of
the callow form of masculinity that he shallowly used as a façade for most of
his adult life.
Not so with Moonrise. This is a story about a twelve year old boy who successfully
rebels against his unhappy circumstances as an orphan and a foster child. He runs
away from the play-acting of traditional masculinity that happens at the Khaki
Scout summer camp that he’s staying at, and he embraces true masculinity by
surviving by his wits and hard work in the wilderness of the real world. He
also rescues, in valiant fashion, his twelve year old girlfriend from her
unhappy, intellectual, patrician, eastern seaboard parents, and forms a
powerful bond with her that is strengthened, not weakened, by their respective traditional
gender identities.
Anderson knows that he can’t tell
this story with a straight-face, because it would be dismissed as hopelessly
old-fashioned by jaded modern audiences, so he invests the film with his fey,
ironical imprimatur. The girl’s house only resembles a real house. It is a kind
of life-size dollhouse. Each scene is stuffed full of kitschy, campy vintage
artifacts that form a pastiche of 21st century culture with 1960’s
culture. Everything is the platonic stand-in for the aesthetic ideal. A car is
not a car, but a “car.” A boat is never a boat, but a “boat.” The setting of
the story itself is a fantastic, mythical place that only resembles reality. It
is the Moonrise Kingdom, a place somewhere between night and day; a place that
resembles the dour, difficult world of struggling adults, but is invested with
the whimsy and imagination of childhood.
Wes Anderson: The Titan of Twee |
Indeed, the films of Wes Anderson,
and increasingly twee culture as a whole, function as a form of wish-fulfillment
for the restoration of traditionally defined gender roles, and a return to a prelapsarian
childhood idyll. The characters in Moonrise
pursue old-fashioned love ironically because they are children, and because
they live in a fantasy world where those ideals are possible. Fantastic Mr. Fox fights off the bad
guys, provides for his wife and children, and dutifully protects his community,
but he can only do this in a stop-motion animated world populated by talking
animals.
This marks a change in Anderson’s
filmmaking. He is no longer interested in showing directionless men in their thirties
floundering in a boyhood that was never allowed to happen because of
domineering, achievement oriented parents. The main character in Moonrise is a prematurely adult kid who
eagerly wants the responsibility of a husband, and probably a father, but he is
stuck in a world where that noble undertaking is impossible. Wes Anderson,
artistically, is no longer a boy trapped in a man’s body, but a man trapped in a
world that refuses to grow up; a world that can only be appealed to with the escapism
and moral evasion of irony and caricature.
Further
reading: 1) Stephen Marche’s essay in Esquire on quirk culture in America. 2)
Ryan Bradford’s reviews of the new films I
Am Not a Hipster and The Comedy.