Review of The Darjeeling Limited (2007) by Tom B — 17 Dec 2010

It's taken me a long time to love Wes Anderson's movies. I got cranky after Tennenbaums, the Life Aquatic turned me off. Different experience watching Darjeeling, now must see all others again. Typical movie head, eh? This was like watching an Eric Rohmer film produced by Handmade Films. Seeing who played the mechanic, recognized but not initially identified, cemented that whole nouvelle vague association. Oh yeah, and the French hotel thingy at the beginning with what's-her-name's really incredibly achingly beautiful ass. (Okay, I remember her name, I'm just playing hard to get in case she reads this and needs to know I'm not going to chase her or anything. I will wait for her to come find me. Hopefully in Paris.) Then there's that whole thing about three stooges in the movie, and the three on the couch watching, like looking in a mirror. That's what it is. This guy's movies are too much like my frickin' life. Rushmore was embarassing. I went to a boarding school in the US and developed a deeply troubled fixation on my French teacher so much that the school notified my father. I kid you not. It's like that guy Baumbach. Squid And The Whale slays me because it reminds me of me, I'm sure of it! Self-absorbed, eh? Or else we all share the same cracks in our skulls from being dropped when we were babies. And the two of them even worked together! I watch these things and cringe, although that's what I liked so much this time. I laughed, then I loved with all my heart, yes I confess, and cried a wee bit, that happy resolution crying stuff. Nice to have happy endings that make you cry, no? Sometimes. Sorry, I guess I gave it away there. So don't watch it. No, watch it, it's the journey. Ah, India. Grew up listening to Ravi Shankar, always wanted to go, now some other people went for me and filmed what I would be thinking if I went. Now when I go I will think about something else, maybe about this movie, or a lovely Rita on some train somewhere. All the symbols were obvious, and fit, and seemed different, and made me.

Feel like life in the best way. Is this a reaction to a movie, or something else? Are we on a computer or is everything moving as though it was water flowing along? Silly me. Full disclosure: I eat Punjabi Mix every day. I think it must be for the chickpea protein and my blood type. If I don't eat protein I get the blood sugary attack things. Everyday sometime after five I allow myself a couple of handfuls of Extra Hot Punjabi Mix (or Jaffna Mix, or sometimes Hot Mix). Works like a charm.