OF A GOLDEN AGE

A recent New Yorker featured an interview with Wes Anderson, inadvertent king of the near-autistic movie genre we now describe as “quirky.” Anderson’s movies mostly feature preciously upper-class people in unrelatable situations (wealthy people with thirtysomething ennui because of their failed personal genius? Seriously?) and this is kind of his trademark. As the interview notes, Anderson is a harbinger of the “Stuff White People Like” era.

There are mild spoilers in this review, so don’t make a big deal about it.

Sitting opposite Anderson on the spectrum are movies like Jack Nicholson’s Five Easy Pieces, a relatively small movie by a writer and director of whom I’ve never heard, about an unhappy, dissatisfied grunt worker named Bobby. His girlfriend is sweet, kind of dumb, and uncouth; their two best friends are thrilled to hear that Bobby’s girl is pregnant by accident, after the foursome spends the evening bowling.

Bobby’s father falls ill and he returns to the homestead, telling his girlfriend she must stay behind at the motel so he can “check things out,” when it’s clear he’s embarrassed to bring her to his family. They’re all intelligent, well educated, talented people, and Bobby is their bizarro remittance man: living away in order to shirk all of their money. At the same time, he’s flighty and antsy, and does not seem as though anything will truly satisfy.

This is a great movie, and the difference in feel between Bobby’s life and his family’s life is pronounced: He dresses differently to go meet them, walks into their museumlike house. His father’s health has left him unable to speak, and in a climactic scene, Bobby has a one-sided conversation with his mute father. It doesn’t seem to cure whatever ails either of them.

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