Rushmore

Re-watching 1998's RUSHMORE made me realize how much more I love Wes Anderson's early films.  I do like most of his work, even the ones that prove frustrating (THE LIFE AQUATIC.... THE DARJEELING LIMITED, THE FRENCH DISPATCH).  But his obsession with art direction and detail has sometimes overridden the emotional content, the connections with characters, creating fascinating but cold exercises in design and color schemes.  And symmetry.  Co-writer/director Anderson's second film (after BOTTLE ROCKET) would be his true calling card, a proper introduction to the world of his sensibilities. 

The characters' dialogue and interaction in RUSHMORE also feel more human.  Plausible, even if the world in which they reside seems slightly fantastic.  The co-writer is frequent star/collaborator Owen Wilson, and the screenplay is somewhat autobiographical.  How close Max Fischer is to Wes or Owen is left to our conjecture.  When Max mounts elaborate theater productions of cop dramas and Vietnam opuses, you might make a solid guess.  

Max (Jason Schwartzman, in his debut) loves Rushmore Academy, to which he won a scholarship,  but his extensive extracurriculars don't help his academic performance.  He is constantly in danger of being expelled.  Also not helping is his self absorbed, bratty behavior, which goes full throttle when he falls hard for one of the teachers, Miss Cross (Olivia Williams).  She's about twice his age, and wise to teen longing, but Max is not discouraged, even when she brings a date (played by Luke Wilson) to dinner with him.

Also in attendance at that dinner is 50sish Herman Blume (Bill Murray), father of obnoxious twins who attend Rushmore.  He will be come Max's friend and eventual rival when Herman also falls for Miss Cross.  RUSHMORE will detail this battle, elucidating its theme of arrested development, of a level playing field despite the large age difference (and socioeconomic status) of the two men/boys.  A world of their own making, and denial (with eventual sad recognition) when reality stakes a claim. 

The humor is often in that dry, absurdist style we expect from Anderson, but there is just enough roughhouse, physical comedy to keep it grounded. Thus, it feels more relatable and almost realistic, something his films embraced less and less.  Yet, we can understand why for Max, Rushmore is the ultimate goal, a way of life.  A fantasy he cannot hold onto.  We also understand why Herman in a way lives vicariously through Max.   Murray made his transition from his earlier broad comedies to a more indie take quite successfully here; it's one of his best performances. 

Fans of NAPOLEON DYNAMITE might see some of Anderson's POV in that later film, but this is certainly edgier, though possibly as ultimately warm hearted. 

Former Devo head Mark Mothersbaugh lends a fanciful score and lots of British Invasion rock fills the soundtrack.  Perfect, really, for the sort of idealized world Anderson creates.