Well, by narrative, I don’t necessarily mean a “fictional” one in the sense I think you are thinking of. By inference, I think one could suggest that in our own lives our creation of “narratives” designed to give order or meaning to our lives are “fictional” as well in the sense that we have some need to find order where it may not exist or to give ourselves a direction that we would otherwise lack. In Darjeeling, Jack does this explicitly by writing about the significant events which have happened to him and his brothers, while claiming the people in his stories are fictional although his brothers treat the stories as “real”. In the sense I mean, both are true. It is the process of organizing the events into a narrative which makes them “fiction” as it carries a sense of order or planning which isn’t necessarily there. This is part of why the formal concerns of Anderson are so vital to his films as they echo or intertwine with the narrative and the way we watch the films.
In the Moonrise thread you mentioned how unlike Cassavettes Anderson’s films are, and this is obviously true in their construction and manifestation, but i would suggest that they are also have a great deal in common despite those readily apparent differences. Both filmmakers are dealing with order and chaos in a way and both tend to end their films in moments of transition between states where the characters face a moment of clarity or awareness of “meaning” which isn’t able to be directly represented by narrative means. It is an awareness of the limits themselves, in a sense, and an acceptance or transcendence of that knowledge.
Jack’s story does fit in the way I was thinking of using narratives (although I didn’t remember it, until you mentioned it). But are you just referring to Jack’s story as an example of the characters using fiction to order their lives and find meaning, or are you saying the film has other examples of this as well?
I know what you mean by the idea of using “narratives” to make sense of one’s life. We may not do this blatantly like Jack (i.e., literally writing a story), but we create loose narratives or stories of events or maybe our entire lives to help us better understand them. But don’t characters in other films do the same thing? I get these sense that you’re suggesting that Anderson’s characters are doing this differently, which is what makes the formal aspects more significant. Is that right?
In the large, no, characters in other films tend not to be as self-conscious of order and narrative, or at least not in the same way. In something like Zodiac, for example, there is the attempt to create or shape a narrative, but the characters are doing so in a more limited scope and therefore the events of the film play into the idea of that narrative differently and effect how we relate to the characters differently as well. In Zodiac we relate to the reality of the characters as they try to make sense of events which have taken place. They are searching for the proper ordering of things to be able to build some sort of narrative around them. (This is roughly true for most detective films in varying quantities, so don’t let the “real life” aspect of Zodiac worry you too much, it was just the first movie I thought of that might make some sense..) The desire for a narrative may not be fulfilled, but there isn’t much doubt there is a “true” one out there, we just might have to live with the uncertainty of not knowing it. In Anderson’s films, the characters are creating their own narratives and we relate to them through the narratives they’ve created. In this sense, the events of the films take on a different relationship to the characters and the viewer. We have to read them through their own artifice in a way, and that is sort of what I’m trying to get at about there being a layered relationship to the films if that makes sense. It’s looking at the workings of order and narrative themselves basically.
Besides Jack’s short stories, what narratives do the characters create? Are you saying that what we see on the screen—e.g., the events as they unfold, the meaning the filmmaking ascribes to the events, the depictions of characters, etc.—is the narrative created by the characters? (FWIW, I’m pretty confused at this point.)
The entire trip is designed by Francis as a sort of spiritual narrative or journey. Almost all of Anderson’s films blur the line of the “real” so much that we are left without a ground to stand on other than the character’s emotions towards somewhat vague events. I don’t mean that Anderson is trying to get us to think metaphysically, to ask “What is real and what is fake” or anything like that. He makes the reality of his films responsive to his characters, so the question of “what is real” is largely irrelevant to how it would be understood in most films.
In Darjeeling, for example, there is the story about the tiger which the boys don’t believe, there is the Hotel Chevalier short which may be “real” or just a filmed version of Jack’s short story. In Moonrise one can question whether Sam and all that happened is “real” or just a story Suzy has conjured to deal with her problems. Given the end of the movie being virtually a continuation of the beginning, that is certainly an available option for interpreting the film. In Life Aquatic there is the short film where Zissou saves a baby seal, the “jaguar shark” and other fauna among other things. The affect of the characters, that tweeness people dislike, fits into this as it too signals the films aren’t dealing in the “real”. So too that meticulous formal control Anderson exhibits. That is the essence of the character’s desire for control, and it signals the sympathy between the world of the film and the emotional life of the characters. It is that inner life which the films are concerned with and that concern and the way Anderson dramatizes it are what differentiates his films from others largely, and that is why I suggest one relates to his films in a somewhat different or “layered” manner. And none of that probably clears up the confusion, but I hope it helps to get a little closer to where I’m coming from.
In that same ‘awareness of narrative’ thing, explains why the characters are on a ‘spiritual trip’ in India. Because the characters know that India is where you go to to have a spiritual trip, or to put it better, Francis discovers his mother is there and decides to turn it into a story about the three brothers coming back together for the first time since the funeral to see their mother while having a spiritual trip in India.
It doesn’t work out like that, but it does. The parts of it where they consciously try to command the narrative are false — when they go into the temple, when they stand at the top of the hill, and so on. The parts where they actually get their fulfillment or awakening or whatever are the scenes where they’ve lost control. The biggest one of those being the second funeral. To me it’s hard to see how people can criticize this movie on the back of ‘distance from characters’ and ‘superficial spiritual fulfillment quest’ after watching the funeral scene/s, where they go to one funeral and suddenly Zip Effect back to the last time they saw each other at their father’s funeral. That funeral scene and the funeral book ends are quite emotionally devastating.
Part of what’s important about it is at the time of their father’s funeral, they couldn’t deal with it. So they get sidetracked (on purpose) and bang their heads against the wall over the car. But on this second funeral, they have time to actually be there and go through the mourning ritual that is a funeral.
Take it from a guy who has been to far too many funerals already in his lifetime: funerals typically run more like the car shop scene, and less like the Indian ritual scene. Most people cannot just do the ritual, so they bang their heads against some wall they craft for themselves, like the car shop.
—PolarisDiB
“So the characters see the suitcases as symbols as well?”
Right . . . the act of leaving their suitcases (“baggage”) behind is a personally symbolic or ritual gesture for them. The passports are treated in a somewhat similar manner, with Francis collecting them from his brothers at the beginning of the trip to keep them from bolting, then offering them back toward the end of the film, with the brothers refusing and apparently willing to remain on “the train” voluntarily.
“In Darjeeling, for example, there is the story about the tiger which the boys don’t believe, there is the Hotel Chevalier short which may be “real” or just a filmed version of Jack’s short story. "
There’s also Francis’s motorcycle “accident”, which we eventually learn was in fact a suicide attempt (something that, given what was going on in Wilson’s own life around that same time, struck me as especially poignant), as well as Peter’s clinging to a few of his father’s possessions, most notably the Peter Bogdanovich glasses (which aren’t the right prescription, and therefore a kind of self-imposed blindness), and insisting that he was their father’s favorite (which it’s suggested may be self-deception as well).
@Greg
I must confess that the possibility that some of the incidents in the film may not be real hadn’t even crossed my mind. Even after you mentioned specific examples, I feel a bit surprised and bemused. It’s not that I completely disagree—just that the question never occurred to me, and I’m still not sure what to make of the possibility. (If what you and Matt suggest is correct, then I really don’t understand his films very well. How am I missing this?)
@DiB
In that same ‘awareness of narrative’ thing, explains why the characters are on a ‘spiritual trip’ in India. Because the characters know that India is where you go to to have a spiritual trip, or to put it better, Francis discovers his mother is there and decides to turn it into a story about the three brothers coming back together for the first time since the funeral to see their mother while having a spiritual trip in India.
But does the creation of this “story” create the kind of blurring of reality that Greg and Matt are talking about for you?
To me it’s hard to see how people can criticize this movie on the back of ‘distance from characters’ and ‘superficial spiritual fulfillment quest’ after watching the funeral scene/s, where they go to one funeral and suddenly Zip Effect back to the last time they saw each other at their father’s funeral. That funeral scene and the funeral book ends are quite emotionally devastating.
On an intellectual level, the funeral scenes should be moving and poignant (and I liked your explanation of the scenes), but I think the scenes didn’t impact me because of “distance from the characters.” I didn’t really care or connect with them, so the more serious moments didn’t work for me. In Moonrise, I cared about the characters and I think Anderson balanced tweeness and realism a lot better, at least for me.
@Matt
Right . . . the act of leaving their suitcases (“baggage”) behind is a personally symbolic or ritual gesture for them.
I can understand if the filmmakers and the viewers see the baggage as symbols, but I have a harder time believing the characters seeing the baggage that way. They seem to be dropping the baggage out of necessity—i.e., to get on the train—then a conscious symbolic gesture.
The passports are treated in a somewhat similar manner, with Francis collecting them from his brothers at the beginning of the trip to keep them from bolting, then offering them back toward the end of the film, with the brothers refusing and apparently willing to remain on “the train” voluntarily.
So does giving the passports back to Francis signify their willingness to stay on the “train” (What does the train represent?)? I thought it signified an acceptance and embrace of their previous relationship with Francis—specifically Francis as the authority/parental figure.
“But does the creation of this “story” create the kind of blurring of reality that Greg and Matt are talking about for you?”
Yes.
It’s on this board with discussions of Anderson over several different threads that their points on this matter has helped me explain that specific form of irony that Anderson is using that other people typically dismiss as ‘hipster irony’ but is a very specialized, idiosyncratic one from a unique filmmaker. And it ALL fits together: the understatement of the dialog, the closeness we get out of the distance from the characters, the framing and compositional qualities, the art design, the hyperaware childishness of all the characters, and so on. Anderson really has a very internally coherent and self-sufficient world built up in his movies.
“On an intellectual level, the funeral scenes should be moving and poignant (and I liked your explanation of the scenes), but I think the scenes didn’t impact me because of “distance from the characters.””
But that’s the moment, for me, where the distance disappears. And in fact that abrupt cut into the flashback tears down that wall, almost violently. The characters cease to be telling a story about themselves to themselves at that moment because they’re too busy dealing with reality.
In fact this is the only scene of this nature that I can think of from Anderson’s own filmography, where he gets that violent about the ironic differentiation between his story and storytelling. Perhaps this is why some people feel Darjeeling Limited is his best movie (I don’t have an opinion on that but I do know several people who make that claim).
—PolarisDiB
But that’s the moment, for me, where the distance disappears. And in fact that abrupt cut into the flashback tears down that wall, almost violently. The characters cease to be telling a story about themselves to themselves at that moment because they’re too busy dealing with reality.
In fact this is the only scene of this nature that I can think of from Anderson’s own filmography, where he gets that violent about the ironic differentiation between his story and storytelling. Perhaps this is why some people feel Darjeeling Limited is his best movie (I don’t have an opinion on that but I do know several people who make that claim).
Oh, I like those observations!…Wouldn’t the attempted rescue also be a point at which they stop telling stories about themselves? Also, when they discover their mother has left them once again? (I think one of the characters mentions something about that being the answer to their spiritual journey or something to that effect. Actually, I think I’m messing this up quite a bit.)…I’m still having trouble with the concept of the characters “creating stories,” though.
What you seem to be saying is that the characters and maybe the filmmaker breaks through the artifice (bs?)—from the rescue scene until the funerals—and hits the characters and viewers with something more real and therefore more poignant. Again, I like that on a conceptual level, but for this to work, wouldn’t the viewer have to be emotionally connected to the characters before these scenes?
There are poignant moments in Moonrise and I think these scenes are poignant because I cared about the characters. I didn’t feel like they were cleverly crafted dolls; they were more like real people “dressed” as dolls, if you know what I mean.
Don’t misunderstand me Jazz, I’m not trying to say that you should think of some events as “fake” as that would require a “real” to oppose it which can be clearly defined. What I’m saying is that Anderson’s films are more fluid than that, and that each film makes an effort to distance the filmworld from the “real” in order to maintain that fluidity. The films also play with those boundaries to further ensure the audience isn’t entirely sure of what “real” is in the world of the film.
@Greg
Is the distancing from the real similar to something that Gondry does in his films or maybe even Charlie Kaufman? Or are Gondry and Kaufmann less subtle?
" I didn’t feel like they were cleverly crafted dolls; they were more like real people “dressed” as dolls, if you know what I mean."
Think about it like this: in Darjeeling Limited, the characters are real people who dress themselves as dolls.
“…Wouldn’t the attempted rescue also be a point at which they stop telling stories about themselves?”
As I mentioned, there’s really no other tearing away of that veil quite as harsh as that one cut throughout his cinema. Even when the characters are less telling themselves they are storytelling and more actually having to react, they’re still somewhat aware of their role in their own staged narrative (such as when they dive in to save the kids. Don’t they look at each other or do some sort pause of recognition before they actually go to save living beings? This sort of represents who they are as people, and as characters, and it’s darkly funny because it’s actually kind of true. Social psychologically speaking, we’re more likely to save someone if we feel a social stigma or responsibility, less likely if we are either alone and ’don’t want to get involved’ (it’s not MY story!) or disappear into a crowd (no one else is saving him, so obviously he’s not in trouble)).
—PolarisDiB
Something like Kaufman does, I think, yes, in that his films are also layered narratives where the characters are responding to their own sets of symbols and narrative direction rather than “existing in the real” which is the case even in something as impossible to our reality as a Batman movie or John Carter.
Think about it like this: in Darjeeling Limited, the characters are real people who dress themselves as dolls.
Then they failed as real people. :)
Don’t they look at each other or do some sort pause of recognition before they actually go to save living beings?
I think Francis says, “OK, let’s go,” or something to that effect, which would adhere to their roles. Still, the roles they play isn’t the same as roles in a story. I mean, real people have similar roles as well, but I assume they’re not creating stories in the way Anderson’s characters do.
I don’t think Anderson’s ‘storytelling’ aspects are like Kaufman’s metanarratives at all. The former is part of the world Anderson has created (a theatrical world, a world where every character has internalized the maxim “All the world’s a stage!”), the latter is the holes in structure of narrative itself even almost as a form of fictionalized dramatization of critical analysis.
—PolarisDiB
^I mean seriously guys, ‘synecdoche.’ ‘Adaptation.’ A movie title that is a quote from a poem.
—PolarisDiB
After the one child dies, Peter comments “I lost mine” which goes to the narrative thinking, and to a sort of self-centered perception. That there were three boys, or assholes I think they call them, in trouble and three of them to save them as well as Peter, the one who purchased the poisonous cobra and who is avoiding dealing with his own impending fatherhood and who is having the most trouble with his place in his father’s affection also plays a role in this drama. In a similar way, Jack’s “affair” with Rita fills that space for him as he claims to see her playing an important role in his life, or words to that effect. The mother is doing much the same when she speaks of the people needing her , (and it could be added how Francis duplicates his mothers way of speaking and wonders if he raised them as well. ) They all are, in a sense, using the people around them to further their own stories while also avoiding their own responsibilities in a way.
It’s a conciliatory gesture from both sides, yes—they’re allowing Francis to be Francis, and Francis is allowing them to decide for themselves—but also, in terms of the journey, Peter and Jack are consenting to remain on the train. It’s no longer primarily a matter of placating a possibly-still-suicidal brother, and they are no longer traveling with the same perspective (the glasses have been taken away and the short story has been finished), so it’s not really the same relationship that they had a the beginning of the film.
“I have a harder time believing the characters seeing the baggage that way.”
They’re bags that, like the glasses, keys, razor Peter carries with him, belonged to their father, so . . .
(footnote: Anderson: “It’s really Satyajit Ray, [Jean Renoir’s] The River, and Husbands”)
@Greg
OK, then I think I know what you mean by “not real” in Anderson’s films.
I like the observations in your post about the characters avoiding responsibility, and I basically agree with them, but, fwiw, I’m still not entirely comfortable with the phrase, “furthering their stories.”
@DiB
I don’t think Anderson’s use of narratives are the same as Kaufman’s. To put it briefly, I think Kaufman is more explicitly post-modern.
Yes, the differences between Kaufman and Anderson are as large or larger than any similarities, but in the area I take it Jazz was asking about, I think the similarities are worth noting as Kaufman self-consciously plays with symbols and narrative in a way which also requires looking at the films not as representational in the usual sense, but as internally responsive. Anderson and Kaufman go in different directions with this, but the mode or method of appreciation isn’t all that dissimilar.
I’ll give you furthering as a bad choice of words as that suggests a sort of motive or gain to it that I didn’t mean, more that they see events through the lens of their own narratives and are somewhat blind to other possibilities.
@Greg
But don’t characters see events through their own narratives in more realistic films?
@Matt
…so it’s not really the same relationship that they had a the beginning of the film.
Yeah, I agree with that.
They’re bags that, like the glasses, keys, razor Peter carries with him, belonged to their father, so . . .
Right, but couldn’t the film have them throw the bags away to symbolize letting go of their father, without the characters being intentional and conscious about this symbolism?
Not generally in the same terms, and its not acknowledged the same way within the larger context of the film often.
@Greg
I’ll have to think about this a bit more. I have no problem believing the film manipulates the narrative in the way you’re speaking—it’s the notion that the characters are “in” on this process that I have a bit more trouble with.
I’m not sure what you mean by the characters being “in” on the process, as that isn’t how I think of it.
“couldn’t the film have them throw the bags away to symbolize letting go of their father, without the characters being intentional and conscious about this symbolism?”
Sure, but it’s made quite clear, particularly via Peter, and via the Porsche 912 scene that the brothers are very aware of these things as connected to their father rather than as simple possessions.
That they are conscious that their telling stories with symbols.
“Is that Dad’s sunglasses?” “Is that Dad’s belt?” “You know you should ask us before using Dad’s stuff. Its as much ours as yours.”
—PolarisDiB
Jazzaloha
So in this film, the fictional narrative the characters are using would be the trip to India? That seems odd or at least it doesn’t strike me as using a narrative. Or by fiction or narrative, do you mean illusions (delusions) about certain events or situations as way to cope with these events? ?