'Bred Crumbs
04.13.03
And so, after I finally got around to watching it on DVD, The Royal Tenenbaums joins that small cluster of movies that are beloved by almost every wise and trusted person I know, but leave me going, um, what?
Here are two generous things I can think of to say about The Royal Tenenbaums:
1. Perhaps never before has an outline of a movie been so lovingly filmed.
2. I think I didn't like The Royal Tenenbaums because of the same gene that keeps me from being able to listen to Morrissey or Belle & Sebastian.
So what's in the baffling-esteem club other than this movie? Well, American Beauty is lodged there so firmly it makes me afraid to even try Six Feet Under. That tiger/dragon thing of a few years back would be there if everyone who praised it hadn't forgotten about it by now. (Haven't you?) And that holiest of holy, Fight Club, is there – insert gasp here – but with an asterisk: I can't say I completely hated Fight Club because I haven't been able to make it past the one-hour mark in trying to watch it.
And yes, I know the twist.
At least one more movie is in this group, but it is such a universally worshipped piece of celluloid, such a strangely unquestioned "classic," that naming it may cause those few people who regard my opinions to hastily disavow any knowledge of my existence. So, I'll just provide my standard description of the movie: it's one hour of drawn-out prologue followed by two hours of reprehensible people slaughtering each other.
No, it's not Megaforce. Good guess, though.
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