In the interest of upping this blog's quotient of shocking revelations of the sort that involve significant amounts of navel-gazing, I'd like to confess that a few weekends ago I came across The Royal Tenenbaums on the over-the-air channel known as PIX, watched a good deal of it, and found myself both amused and moved by a film I had long been in the boom business of maligning.
I used to hate to think that situational factors external to a movie could significantly influence one's final opinion of it, and as a 16-year-old (the age when I first saw Wes Anderson's third film) I would have likely also scoffed to myself were some vaguely condescending mossback to bring up the matter of life experience. Now, I'd say that back then a scarcely formed idea of uptown mores, an unfamiliarity with the tone of certain Joseph Mitchell profiles, and a generally unconsidered family life caused me to fixate too much on the front-and-center bric-a-brac, and to see only a troubling tendency to turbo-exotify where something a bit more complicated might have been going on.
Who knows, perhaps the events of my last decade have only conspired to nudge me away from what was an entirely sensible opinion. If one day in the future The Darjeeling Limited comes on some bastard internet stream and I find myself going through a similar process of reconsideration, I guess I'll know the drill for sure.
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1 comments:
Revelations.
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