407 - Rushmore, United States, 1998. Wes Anderson.

Sunday, February 11, 2018

407 - Rushmore, United States, 1998.   Wes Anderson.

Max Fischer loves clubs.

No, not dance clubs.  But extracurricular activities at school.  He attends Rushmore Academy, an exclusive private school made up largely of the children of wealthy parents.

Max's father is a barber.  He is not rich.  Max won a scholarship to Rushmore when he was younger.  For writing a play.

He has a lot of enthusiasm and energy for all of the things he enjoys.  The only problem is that all of his activities keep him from studying, which leads him to get poor grades.

His father does not seem to mind.  His father is proud of him.  He seems to love him unconditionally.

But the school administration is quite concerned.

When wealthy businessman Herman Blume, played by Bill Murray, comes to speak at the school, Max loves what he says.  He gives him a solo standing ovation.

Hello, Herman.

The two of them strike up a friendship.

The only problem is they both like the same woman.  A school teacher.

Max is precocious in everything.

Fortunately for Wes Anderson, he did not carry this idea through to its conclusion but had Rosemary (Olivia Williams) rebuff Max's proclamations.

In 1998 this plot point probably felt like a quirky oddity of pubescent longing.  Before the rash of inappropriate behavior by female teachers with their underage male students.  By today's standards, it has the potential to be creepy and uncomfortable.

Wes Anderson co-wrote the screenplay again with Owen Wilson.  Wilson does not appear in the film but his brothers Luke and Andrew do.

We also have the delicious work of Seymour Cassel and Brian Cox.

And of course Bill Murray.

I was glad when I heard that legendary film critic Pauline Kael said she did not know what to make of this movie, because I do not either.  Not yet.

I saw it when it first came out, and now, watching it 20 years later I still do not understand it.

It seems to avoid dealing with matters of the human heart.  Characters are kept at an emotional distance, in ironic postures.  They do not show vulnerability or human frailty.  They are like robots with opinions.

One can clearly see Anderson's artistic brilliance.  The writing, the production design, the staging, and the framing are all spot on.  And as an actor I would leap at the opportunity to do a film like this.

As we continue to watch his movies, we will see his talent develop and his artistry shine.  But at this point I do not understand Rushmore.

It might be like Picasso's cubist period for me.  I went for several years not understanding it.  Then I attended a Picasso exhibit at the L.A. County Museum of Art (LACMA).  I rented the audio tour, with narration by Dustin Hoffman.  And as I stood there looking at Picasso's 1913 painting Woman With a Guitar and listening to Hoffman's description, suddenly it all opened up for me.

I saw Picasso's genius.  I felt cubism's impact.

I have had moments like that throughout my life, where someone helps you see something that you could not see before.  Where you stopped making fun of something and started to appreciate it.  And even adore it.  That is why we need teachers.

And for that moment I thank Dustin Hoffman and the person who wrote the copy he was reading.  And LACMA for hosting the exhibit and hanging and lighting the painting the way they did.

I have not yet had that moment with Rushmore.  Perhaps I will in the future.  I already like Wes Anderson a lot for some of his other work.

But in the mean time I am stuck with asking this question: What is the point of this story?

Or, why make this movie?  Does it entertain?  Give insight?  Move?  Educate?  Inspire?  Challenge?  Upset?  Provoke?  Or any of the many other things art does?  For now I will give it the benefit of the doubt that it does.  Something.

Until then I am left with this conclusion:

So what?