Bolstered by the upcoming Criterion release of Wes Anderson’s Bottle Rocket, I finally took the time to check out the film, and discovered a classic effort that Martin Scorsese has labeled as one of the top-ten films of the 1990s.

The Skinny: As Anderson’s first full length feature, 1996’s Bottle Rocket is an immensely enjoyable and entertaining farce of a heist movie that demonstrates many of the trademarks and quirks that have come to define the Anderson’s films. It features brothers Luke, Owen, and yes even the phantom Andrew Wilson, alongside actors Robert Musgrave and James Caan. The film opens as Owen Wilson’s character Dignan helps Luke Wilson’s Anthony to “break out” of a voluntary-stay mental care facility. After meeting up with mutual friend Bob, played by Musgrave, the threesome proceed to set out on a series of misadventures in their efforts to become big-time criminals. The film deals with a number of themes ranging from brotherhood and love, to depression, and carries on with the same innocent sense of humor that shines throughout all of Wes Anderson’s writing. Bottle Rocket is easily the most accessible of any of Anderson’s films, and can therefore serve as both a perfect introduction for Anderson neophytes, or as a refreshing change of pace for dedicated fans.
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Friends Anthony and Dignan, played by brothers Luke and Owen Wilson respectively, serve as the central characters of the film, while third friend Bob exists on the periphery of their three-man “team”. Anthony is a twenty-something who checked himself into a mental facility upon the realization that he was completely miserable with the state of his life and utterly hopeless. His character is recovering gradually from his bout with depression, but is actually a closet idealist, as illustrated by his love-at-first-sight affection for Inez, the Paraguayan maid of a hotel where the three stay. Dignan is a fundamentally insecure guy who is prone to jealousy and covers up for it by being extremely energetic and over-the-top. He desperately wants to be the mastermind of the group, but his ridiculous schemes hold nothing but empty promises that usually end up fucking things up for one or more of the participants. Bob has been beat up and degraded by his older brother, played by Andrew Wilson, for his entire life and desperately wants to be a member of the group, but his paranoia leads him to suspect the other two of wanting to cut him out of the deal at any given opportunity. His is drafted as the group’s getaway driver, as he is the only one that owns a car.

The themes of Bottle Rocket are largely consistent with the hallmarks of Wes Anderson’s works, but with a few key differences. While the main characters are all damaged and fragile in their own way, the film lacks the sense of tragedy displayed in many of Anderson’s other films. However, sympathy for the characters is by no means diminished, as the woes that befall them are ultimately much more grounded than the extreme absurdity of later efforts like The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou. Of course, that’s not to say that the plot doesn’t have it’s moments of delightful absurdity. As to the film’s sense of humor, Anderson’s use of understatement is masterfully intact. In one the opening sequences Luke Wilson explains to a sorority-type girl the powerful motivations and realizations that lead him to seek professional help, only for her to respond, “you’re really complicated aren’t you?” He replies, “I try not to be.” One other thematic constant of Anderson’s films that makes an appearance is the respected middle-aged male who turns out to be a complete fraud. Here the character is James Caan’s Mr Henry, who is the owner of the lawn and landscaping service that serves as the cover for the criminal organization from which Dignan draws all of his inspiration. Interestingly, one Anderson staple missing from this story is the prevalence of smoking, and an escapist embrace of drug use.

In terms of the cinematography and production style employed in Bottle Rocket, it’s much the same story in that many of the established Anderson elements are present, but not all. Anderson’s pension for unique staging was prevalent from the first scene, and he utilizes close-ups and quick cuts throughout the film in order to create a playful and dynamic rhythm to all of the sequences. This sense of rhythm and style is further buoyed by Anderson’s oddball music selection, which is just a sharp here as ever. Missing is the vivid pastel color palette of his later work, but this can be most easily explained by a comparatively small budget. However, fear not, as the use of Futura Bold font for all credits is present and accounted for. (sigh of relief)

Bottle Rocket is a refreshing look back to the Wes Anderson of yesteryear, and a satisfyingly entertaining romp to boot. Many critics of Anderson have felt that his films have become progressively more bizarre since Rushmore, and that his characters have become less and less relatable. While this criticism is probably fair, I have continued to be a fan of his work through last year’s Darjeeling Limited, and will continue to be until some point in the future when he actually goes fucking crazy. And even then I’ll probably still give him a chance. Bottle Rocket is not only Anderson at his most unfiltered, but perhaps his most human as well, and is therefore an easy recommendation to any fan of quality cinema.