In our Blue Filter series, we are inviting our writers to reflect on the films that they have connected with through challenging or upsetting times, both during the COVID-19 pandemic and before. In the latest entry of the series, Nana Beney revisits the films of Wes Anderson and recalls how they helped her through her tumultuous high school years.
Regardless of the COVID-19 pandemic, it is an undeniable truth that school is difficult. It is not smooth sailing. We frequently encounter emotional and academic hurdles that can hinder our progression towards the next stages of our lives. My worries were exacerbated when we were placed into lockdown; school, no longer a place for companionship and socialising, became a lonely experience taught over a series of drearily attended online lessons. Despite being cooped up with my family, I had never felt so alone. This is why, perhaps, when my own world was grey and miserable, I found solace in the structured and optimistic films of Wes Anderson.
In the early stages of lockdown, I was, for the most part, stuck in a rut of watching violent, grisly flicks. In hindsight, these unsurprisingly did very little for my mental health. I had already seen—and loved—The Grand Budapest Hotel, Isle of Dogs, and Fantastic Mr Fox. As such, the door leading to Anderson’s brilliant world of idiosyncratic characters, minute attention to detail, and memorable colour schemes and perfect soundtracks was one that was already slightly ajar. But as I swung the door open fully, little could have prepared me for the brilliance of Rushmore and The Royal Tenenbaums.
Rushmore, in its simplest form, is a coming-of-age comedy chronicling the development of Max, as he navigates his way through school, romantic interests and worries for the future. At first glance, he seems extraordinarily organised and mature—albeit a little eccentric. He has joined almost every school club and has the mannerisms of, say, an eighty-year-old man rather than a fifteen-year-old.
What makes Rushmore stand out for me, however, are the layers of complexity that Anderson incorporates. As the film progresses, there is a shift in tone, and we see that despite our initial view of Max as a model student, he is failing academically and is at risk of being expelled from the school. The film is particularly memorable for its examination of both the idiotic opinions teenagers have of adulthood (shown through Max’s lack of experience), but also the underwhelming reality of that adulthood.
Like in so many of Anderson’s films, Max’s future and mentality only begins to improve when he learns to appreciate and respect himself. The film closes as he reconciles with his former love interest, Rosemary, and his friend/enemy, Herman Blume, but most importantly, himself. Watching this amid revising for my examinations was a blessing in disguise. Yes, although school is significant—I will always feel the urge to push myself further by joining another club or writing another essay—ultimately my emotional progression is far more important, a truth that the film helped me to realise. As I frantically practiced factorising formulae, one thing was clear in my mind. The equation to living a fulfilling life, one that brings me happiness and joy, is one that is impossible to simplify. I must learn to respect and appreciate myself. That, after all, is the best piece of education that we can receive.
In the same vein, with an impressive soundtrack featuring music from the likes of Elliott Smith, Nick Drake, and The Velvet Underground, The Royal Tenenbaums touches upon the same themes. Here however, Anderson places them in a familial context. Although we hate to admit it, no family is perfect. We argue. We reconcile. We argue again. The Royal Tenenbaums paints this idea without embellishments or frills. It is a tale of betrayal, sadness and disappointment. Royal is ashamed of his flaws which have driven the family apart, while Richie is in a fragile state of mind having been away for so long. Margot’s supressed emotions make her seem catatonic, and Chas—continuing the union of comedy and tragedy—is deeply terrified of losing his sons.
However, there are also instances of joy and familial happiness. Royal takes his grandsons on a journey of excitement and adventure, and Chas finally acknowledges his fears and accepts psychiatric help, whilst also reconciling with his father, Meanwhile, in one of the film’s most touching scenes, following Royal’s death, we see the family unity that he wanted so badly. Watching The Royal Tenenbaums during lockdown taught me that despite the lows I experience with my family, there are many more highs, and it is for this that I am forever grateful.
With the pandemic plunging our lives into chaos and disarray, perhaps it is fitting to turn to the structure and order that Anderson masterfully orchestrates through his innovative filmmaking as a means of catharsis and self-recognition. His films enable me to escape the worries I feel, even if only for 100 minutes. When I return, I know that in response to the challenges that are yet to come, a promise of a happy ending is also gearing up to arrive. I can only hope that Anderson’s future films live up to their predecessors in their inventiveness, character, and heart.
Words by Nana Beney.
Wes Anderson’s latest film, The French Dispatch, is in cinemas now.
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