PicoBlog

The films of Wes Anderson are tightly controlled and meticulously constructed. They center on characters who plan everything down to the last detail, which is another way of saying they are about Anderson himself. He favors symmetry in his compositions. He chooses every prop in every film. Each of his films features a scene of his protagonist walking through their place of work (or school, as it were), while his underlings ask him rapid-fire questions about his project. This motif is an homage to the “What is a director?” scene in Francois Truffaut’s Day for Night. In the Anderson films, it could be a concierge, a scout master, or the head of a high school theater troupe, but they’re all directors. They are beset by challenges and questions, but they’re cool, calm, and in control, at least when they’re working.

What I love about Rushmore, Anderson’s second and best film, is that he’s not entirely in control of it. Yes, it’s about a classic Wes Anderson character, and it has one of those classic Wes Anderson scenes. Max Fischer is a precocious 15-year-old enrolled at a prep school, where he spends all his time on extracurriculars and none of his time on his schoolwork. An early montage—and this film has the best montages—reveals his resume: the Beekeepers Club, the fencing team, the Max Fischer Players, etc. In one scene, we see him walking down the hallway, approving props for his latest play. He’s a director, literally, and while Anderson mostly refuses to psychoanalyze why his characters need to be in control—we never find out what Steve Zissou’s deal is, do we?—he explains it all in Rushmore. Max’s mother died when he was a child, and we understand his constant activity as a way to stave off the darkness, and his crush on the lovely Rosemary Cross (Olivia Williams) as a way of filling the maternal absence in his life. 

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