A distinct nostalgia assailed me watching The Darjeeling Limited after 14, maybe 15 years. Though I had never seen the movie in its entirety it was an omnipresent part of my childhood. The fact that it was shot in India meant it received an extended coverage in Indian Media. I would stumble across short reviews on the back segments of my father’s magazine. We would glean snatches of scenes when my father, le commissaire of the T.V remote, flicked through the channels and would momentarily hover, for a few minutes, before hopping back to the news channels. It would air on HBO. A cultural shock seeing something Indian on a Hollywood channel. The color blue and Adrien Brody in a disheveled suit has stuck with me since.
Watching a full movie without missing a scene was hard during those days, unless you checked the local papers to get the timings of the showing. That trend died with cable T.V as more people got dish satellite connections and you could flick through the listing of movies and shows. Though, load shedding was another issue.
A spiritual journey in India, not taking anything away from the spirituality of India, still feels like an idea picked from a self help book. The characters are just going along a fixed itinerary hoping to reach some form of catharsis at the end of their journey as Francis (Owen Wilson) drags them along, with three peacock feathers as his dues ex machina given to him by some Guru. The ritual is that you make a wish, blow on the feather and bury it.
India through Wes’ lens is not exoticized nor the screenplay hides an unhealthy infatuation with the place. Instead it is tastefully integrated with expansive cinematography. India and all its temples and spirituality are used only as a backdrop for the characters and their story. A weird dichotomy against the character’s awkward and cursory attempts. “The air smells. . . (pause for effect) Spicy,”
Wes tries to mold the chaotic energy of India but a few inconsistencies still managed to crack through his precarious lens. (Continuity errors, like in one of the opening scenes where Adrien Brody runs past Bill Murray against a dusty orange backdrop. The train on the left magically appears and disappears as we cut between Adrien Brody and Bill Murray.)
The three brothers are not only grieving the loss of their father but also dealing with their own insecurities. Peter (Adrien Brody) is running away from his responsibilities of becoming a dad. The idea scares him to death. “Maybe it relates to how we were raised.” He confides.
Jack (Jason Schwartzman) is always searching for the ‘perfect moment’ with his Ipod and speakers, and tries hard to compensate the harsher reality with his writings. Jack brings out an element of Wes’ storytelling technique; telling a story within a story. He is also being gaslighted by his girlfriend. “I’ve never liked that girl,” “Me neither” “Anyway, I never trusted her,” Francis and Peter quip as they watch Peter checking her ex girlfriend’s phone messages.
Francis (Owen Wilson) is impulsive and fastidious; organizing a spiritual journey to India on whim after experiencing a life ending accident, trying to scrape a semblance of control over his life. He is another of Wes Anderson’s character archetype. Dignan in Bottle Rocket (coincidentally played by Owen Wilson), Max Fisher in Rushmore, and Sam in Moonrise Kingdom are a few examples.
The three brother’s relationship plays out with little secrets they hide from one another, small leverages they hold against each other; all united by a single grieve and a confining train compartment. It is not until their plan goes south that they able to confront the superficiality of their attempts and thus honestly confront their feelings and their relationships.
“WAOW”
They find themselves at a desolate train station in the middle of the night after getting kicked out. There they sit, beside a movie magic bon-fire; as they decide to end their spiritual journey and Jack comments that maybe their journey ending now was all part of some grander plan, Francis takes it as yet another sign and pulls out the peacock feathers. They run to three corners and proceeded to do the ritual. After they’re done Jack asks, “What happened to your feathers? Mine blew towards the mountains.”
Francis: “That’s not right. It’s not supposed to get blown away, you’re supposed to blow on it and then bury it.”
Peter: “I didn’t get that part, I still have mine,”
“I tried my hardest. I don’t know what else to do,” Francis sighs in defeat.
A lull in the conversation. Jack breaks: “Do you think we would have been friends in real life? Not as brothers but as people.”
Peter: “I don’t know, at least we would have a better chance.”
A scene that culminates in their miscommunication; Peter’s apathy, Francis’ failing attempts, and Jack’s detachment from reality.
After the three brothers confront their mother and she disappears from them again, they take Peter’s feather and go on top of a mountain. Continue to Perform a comical understanding of the ritual they were expected of, blow on the feather and then bury it under a few loose rocks. As they run after another train to catch they realize their father’s luggage wouldn’t make it. They smile at each other and leave their luggage behind.
The grieve of losing someone never disappears even after you confront your buried feelings. But if you do, it is less deep and under lighter rocks.
The Darjeeling Limited is a movie about coping with grief and the superficial attempts of the same. And no matter how awkward those attempts are maybe they will nudge you a peace somewhere. There is no correct way to grieve or heal. You just get up and follow your first impulse.
Mr. Fox
To my dad who passed last year when summer was giving way to autumn.
