Angelica Huston on Wes Anderson in this week’s New Yorker:
“If I were to take one isolated vision of Wes, it’s in a boat, a rather small motorboat, opposite my motorboat, in choppy seas, foggy, cold, with a megaphone, telling me when to stand up and wave. He was like Captain Ahab on that movie, and it’s such a funny thing to me, because you think of Wes as being effete, toothpick-thin, a little bit languid and pale, and concave, but I have these incredibly bravura, muscular images of him out at sea. Wes, if he needed it for his movie, would hang upside down from a line over the Pyrenees.”
Three things:
1. This is difficult but entertaining to imagine.
2. Huston is clearly better with words than 99 percent of people who write for a living. She had me at “concave.”
3. I will no longer apologize for loving all (yes, all) of Wes Anderson’s movies (albeit not equally). I love them critically (there’s more to Darjeeling Limited than art direction). I love them uncritically (I want those suits. And that luggage). And yes, I realize they’re “twee.”
