If you’ve read the title of this most recent Money Shot, it’s clear to you that I’ll be discussing the film The Royal Tenenbaums. If you haven’t read the title, well, what’s wrong with you? Who does that? Your eagerness is appreciated, but as a general rule you should probably pay attention to titles of things you’re about to read. You don’t want to jump right in and find yourself 500 words deep before you realize you’ve entered into a discussion on the commonly accepted environmental policies of penguins. It’s too late to turn back once that happens. The words “Penguins – Green or Mean?” would have saved you the trouble. Luckily, you’ve been made aware of this and it shouldn’t be a problem for you in the future. Onto the movie clip (feel free to watch the entire 7 minutes, but the part I’m referencing begins at the 4:30 mark and goes until the end of the video):
The video you just watched is the conclusion of a visual idea the runs throughout Wes Anderson’s film. It’s an idea that’s setup from the movie’s opening moments (which I’ll show in a bit) and gradually comes together as the film progresses (I’ll show that too). It’s a visual motif that is just as important as the written narrative and actor’s performances in telling the movie’s story. So, what is this idea I’m only vaguely touching on so far? Not so fast. First, a little context.
Anderson's portrayal of the dysfunctional Tenenbaum family is as hilarious as it is touching, as poignant as it is absurd. If you’ve seen any of Anderson’s other movies, you know family dynamics play a huge part in everything he does. The Royal Tenenbaums is no different. The picture is a wonderful exploration of family, failure, and how the support of the former is necessary to overcome the latter. The movie is about a family of former child geniuses (how, exactly, does one become a former genius?) who seemingly peaked very early in life and are having trouble dealing with adulthood. Their parents have split up, the children have grown apart, and, for all intents and purposes, the standard family model is broken. During the film, in their own weird and offbeat way, the fractured family slowly begins to repair itself. As funny and quirky as the movie can be at times (not at bad thing to me, personally, but definitely not everyone’s cup of Earl Grey), at its core, it’s a movie about a splintered family regaining what made them special in the first place. As with Fargo, it’s another personal favorite (in the spirit of full disclosure, I’m using movies I love to keep this thing easy for me at the outset – it’s just a lot easier and more fun to write about things you genuinely care about). It’s well done in just about every aspect of filmmaking, and it strikes an emotional chord. There’s an underlying sadness to the whole movie, but that sadness ultimately becomes something hopeful. That kind of authentic compassion and understanding of people is something I can never get enough of. If a movie pulls that off well, and cinematically, there’s no chance I’m not going to love it. But enough about what I like - let’s get back to this visual motif I’ve hyped up plenty by now.
Now, another clip. I know, I know. Just bear with me. It’ll all come together. I promise. This one is of the film’s opening minutes – a prologue that tells the audience just how the Tenenbaum family came to be as they currently are. It’s only necessary to watch the first 1:10 of this one:
At the 15 second mark, the camera moves down the Tenenbaum house and shows one child on each of the three floors framed in a window. The movie begins showing the fractures in the family from its first images. After Royal knocks on the door, the movie cuts to the conversation of Royal telling his children that the parents are getting a divorce. Don’t pay attention to the dialogue - just concentrate on how each shot is framed. Conventionally, this sort of scene would be shown from the side so that one end of the table is on the left side of the screen (the one with the children) and one end is on the right (the one with Royal). All the characters would be in the same frame, just on opposite sides. Instead, in order to begin showing the family’s divide, Anderson shows the children in their own separate frame as they speak, and then cuts to Royal in his own separate frame (which is also shown from a longer distance than the children to show his emotional distance) as he speaks. This is done throughout the conversation, and a later scene that takes place at the same table with the grownup versions of the children is filmed the same way. This tactic is used to show the split between Royal and his family.
Immediately after the prologue, there is a “cast of characters” montage that introduces the main characters in the film. Obviously, this serves a practical purpose for the audience, but it also furthers this fractured motif. Each character is shown separate from the others. This present day version of the family is completely broken, and that’s shown in the way the characters are introduced to the audience in this montage. Here it is:
A large deal of the first 20-30 minutes of the movie is shot like this. However, as the film moves along, the family begins the healing process and the way the characters are framed begins to change. This is a clip of Margot greeting Richie at a bus stop as he returns home from a self-imposed exile:
As Margot gets off of the bus at the 35 second mark, it looks like this scene is going to be shot similar to the others in the film up to that point – each character in their own separate frame, with little to no movement. As Nico’s “These Days” begins, we see Margot, then a close-up on Richie. Instead of repeating this throughout the scene, we see a shot of Margot walking towards Richie, then a shot of Richie with the camera slowly zooming in to him. Finally, there’s a shot from behind Richie’s head that has them both in the same frame. There are a couple more shot/reverse shot sequences with each character in their own frame until at the 1:47 mark when there’s the previously mentioned conventional shot with each character in the same frame on opposite ends. They walk towards each other and embrace as the camera zooms in on their hug. Healing is usually a gradual process, and Anderson does an excellent job of showing that visually with this specific scene. The camerawork mirrors the psyche of the characters. As that psyche begins to shift, the camerawork does as well.
As the film progresses, there are more and more moments where characters are shown in the same frame, or shown closer together. The broken family is healing, but not completely healed until, finally, the money shot that began this entry. Shot all in one take with no cuts, Anderson claims on the film’s director’s commentary that the shot took 18 takes to get right. Ben Stiller wanted an extra camera in case he didn’t nail his “I’ve had a rough year, Dad” line, which would have resulted in the shot having a cut. Anderson wouldn’t allow it. As you can hopefully see (and if I’ve done a good job you’ll be able to), the shot couldn’t be cut. It’s the most important shot in the movie. It had to be done in one take. The movie had to visually show the healed family. This scene is in direct contrast with how the film opens. The “cast of characters” montage showed each family member in their own individual space. There is no individual space in this final shot. It’s all one, flowing take that is the culmination of the healing process and shows a group of individuals as one unit. It’s beautiful.
And that's that with regard to Wes Anderson's masterful The Royal Tenenbaums. As always, I hope you've enjoyed reading. Until next time...
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