The Darjeeling Limited

Bill Murray is not the star of The Darjeeling Limited—in fact, he only has a couple of minutes of screen time, and never speaks a word—but his face is one of the first things you see, and it sets the tone for everything that follows. His ingenious cameo places him as a nameless businessman, nervously peering over his shoulder as he rides in the back of a speeding taxi, apparently hoping to outrun something sinister, though we know not what.

When he jumps out of the cab he is at a train station, and he sprints in mad pursuit of his departing locomotive, coming just short of catching it. He is left standing on the platform, while the camera—and the audience—departs with the train. It's a brilliant scene because it epitomizes everything that's unique about the cinema of Wes Anderson. It's funny, in a very dry, deadpan kind of way. It's film-literate, calling to mind similar moments in any number of classic thrillers or detective flicks. And, in its own strange, self-referential way, it's an effective visual metaphor; Murray may be Anderson's favorite actor, but this is not his story, and, for the most part, he'll be sitting this one out.

Adrien Brody, Jason Schwartzman and Owen Wilson on their journey

But let's not overlook the obvious: The train is in motion, and so is its director. Though it bears most of the stylistic hallmarks of his other four films, Darjeeling is just different enough from Anderson's other movies that it might cause his detractors to pause and rethink some of their criticisms—and to acknowledge that, in many ways, this might be his most assured and sophisticated movie yet. More than any other Wes Anderson film, this one is full of motion and change—it's a road-trip movie in many respects, not tied down to a static location the way The Royal Tenenbaums and The Life Aquatic were. And though he's often accused of emphasizing visual style to the point of draining any feeling, Darjeeling boasts some of the most powerful emotions of any of his films yet.

As with any Anderson film, this one is about estranged family members—in this case, three brothers who have not spoken to each other in a year, ever since their father's funeral. Now, brother Francis Whitman (Owen Wilson) has called Peter (Adrien Brody) and Jack (Jason Schwartzman) to meet him for a trip—on the train called the Darjeeling Limited—through India, a "spiritual journey" that he hopes will bring them back together again.

Their travels take them to all sorts of, um, interesting places

It's not long before tension begins to grow, with the brothers distrusting one another, keeping secrets, making accusations, and failing to communicate in just about every possible way. Even the enthusiastic Francis ultimately admits that their "spiritual journey" hasn't quite panned out. And as more of their backstory is revealed, it becomes clearer and clearer that all three brothers are damaged, badly in need of one another. Francis is literally damaged, heavily bandaged after an accident; Peter is expecting his first child, but is in anguish because he does not think the marriage will last; and Jack is stuck in the middle of a hurtful relationship. All three are still mourning for their father, and confused by the fact that their mother (Anjelica Huston) failed to show up for the funeral.

Taking his usual blend of chic style and deadpan humor on the road frees Anderson to make his lightest, simplest film since Bottle Rocket, even as he attempts some of his most ambitious storytelling tricks to date. The script—written by Anderson, Schwartzman, and producer Roman Coppola—makes obvious use of the train as a metaphor for life's great Journey, but it actually works quite effectively. And even when the train is literally derailed—an ominous metaphor that Francis humorously points out to his brothers—the themes of family, of our need to carry one another's burdens, of compassion and forgiveness, become stronger. When a visit to their long-lost mother doesn't play out quite as they'd expected, the brothers continue on their journey—closer to each other than ever before—with admirable, even inspiring courage and hopefulness.

Angelica Houston as the brothers' long-lost mother

Not everything works as well. Death is a recurring motif in Anderson's films, and while it was harrowing in The Royal Tenenbaums, a funeral scene here feels stuffy, forced, too intent on being clever to be really moving. Much better is an illuminating flashback to the day of an earlier funeral, which provides some much-needed pathos. But quibbling with one or two clunky moments almost seems unfair; this is an ambitious film that finds Anderson more confident and less self-conscious than ever. Never before has he seemed so indifferent toward how the film will be perceived, and, consequently, it moves as gracefully and as organically as anything he's done.

At this point his unique cinematic vocabulary—equal parts J.D. Salinger, French New Wave, and children's storybook—feels lived in, less like a stylistic experiment and more like a real, self-contained world. There's always been a sharp-edged potency to his mixture of fable-like simplicity and grown-up emotional complexity, and here it feels natural, unpretentious, with nothing to prove. With Anderson, it's always the little details that give the most away—stray glances, scattered lines of dialogue, minor features of the immaculate wardrobe and set design, even the feelings conjured by his typically delightful British Invasion soundtrack. The Darjeeling Limited is by no means a broad comedy; it's a farce about family, for viewers who are willing to look closely and pay attention.

Director and co-writer Wes Anderson and his star players

That seeps into the performances, as well, which are all models of subtlety, playing sadness and comedy alike with the same heartbreaking earnestness. Brody does some of his finest work, digging beneath his character's gruff exterior to find wrenching gloom and insecurity. Schwartzman is just as compelling, just as beautifully fragile—check out the scene where he wonders if the three Whitmans would still be friends were they not brothers. And Wilson, hiding beneath bandages for most of the film, brings a sad humor and gravity to his character that is made all the harder to ignore by recent, real-life news.

Some critics will reprimand Anderson for repeating so many of the same themes in all of his movies, and indeed, anyone who has seen an Anderson film is already familiar with the emotional ground covered here. But that doesn't mean he's redundant; it means he's forging a legacy, developing a thematic voice every bit as distinctive as his vibrant visual style. He's coming back to familial need and broken dreams from a slightly different angle each time, and, over the whole body of his work, he's giving us a rich cinematic language with which we can explore these feelings and concepts in our own hearts and minds.

Talk About It

1. What exactly are each of the brothers looking for on their "spiritual journey"?
2. Why have the brothers become estranged? What are the things that divide them from one another? From their mother?
3. How does the train work as a symbol or metaphor?
4. What does the film say about the importance of family? About the nature of brotherhood? About dealing with loss?

The Family Corner

The Darjeeling Limited is rated R for language—a few f-words and other assorted profanities occur, making the film unsuitable for children, but, for R-rated standards, this one is relatively tame. There is implied sex between two characters, but nothing explicit is seen.

Photos © Copyright American Empirical Pictures

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