the royal tenenbaums: forgiveness and homecoming

I have seen most of Wes Anderson’s films, and this one is by far, my favorite. The cinematography is beautiful and exemplary of Anderson’s signature style. It is more distinctive than in the film preceding it, Rushmore, yet is not a crutch for a subpar story, as I would argue is the case in Moonrise Kingdom or The Darjeeling Limited. The first thing I notice about most Anderson films is the beautiful use of color. In The Royal Tenenbaums, most conspicuous is a contrast between pink and green, found everywhere from the opening title sequence and Richie’s tennis match footage, to costuming and architecture. This color pairing is subtly embedded in the reds and burnt oranges that are also prominent throughout the film, among other monochromatic schemes that feature individually, such as the pervading grayness of Chas’ childhood bedroom. Also notable is the prevalence of “talking head” straight-on camera shots featuring individuals of the film. The Royal Tenenbaums is very much a study of individuals, and how their idiosyncrasies and insecurities interact during a family reunion overshadowed by the impending tragedy of a patriarch’s illness.

Each child of the family was raised primarily by their mother after Royal Tenebaum, the father, deserts their family. They each have an extraordinary talent as children and are heralded as a “family of geniuses,” but as adults, find failure and dissatisfaction in their lives and return home, each with a complicated relationship with their siblings and their neglectful father. At the heart of this film is a detailed exploration of those relationships and the unique characters that form them. And of course, the cast does an excellent job of bringing these roles to life. I was especially impressed by Gwyneth Paltrow as Margo, the only adopted child in the family and award-winning playwright. Her gruff and alienated character is not immediately likable, but Paltrow brings a certain nuance to the character that helps one sympathize with her. While Margo likely holds the greatest grudge against her father for never recognizing her as a true member of the family, she is also the most like him. She is the only child who smokes, as Royal does, and the only child who cheats on her spouse, as Royal does. However. because of her estrangement from her father, Margo must keeps these things a secret, even going as far as to smoking in her bathroom to hide the habit from her husband, which seems a bit strange until one recognizes the emotional baggage attached to it.

While the film’s ‘flashback’ opening scenes emphasize the children’s great successes, one finds that it is really their failures in their careers and towards each other that bring the family together. The theme of forgiveness central to The Royal Tenenbaums is incarnate in the family’s pet hawk, Mordecai. The “letting go” of the bird towards the end of the film symbolizes the family’s letting go of their past ills, and acceptance of the idea that “birds should not be kept in cages,” or rather we should not hold onto grudges. This theme of forgiveness is made even more concrete when Chas rehashes an incident from his childhood to his father, where his father shoots him with a BB gun, even though they were on the team. Royal turns to his son and implores “You think you could start forgiving me?” As one can guess, this isn’t just about a BB gun, but rather a much more serious incident where Chas’ father destroys his business for personal gain. However, Royal does not get away with it, and his career is destroyed in the same way as his son’s. Perhaps if everyone in this story “pays” for what they have done wrong to their family members, the film questions, it is reasonable of them to forgive each other and hold on to what they have left? Overall, this sort of karma seems integral to the case for forgiveness made by the film. The Tenenbaums exist in a morally constructed world where no one gets away with immoral acts unscathed, and where sins are punished before they are resolved, which is perhaps a world that does not bear perfect resemblance to our own. However, the complications of familial relationships in the story are so still well-written and presented so that one can relate to them, and given Anderson’s diorama-like craftsmanship of set design and photography, perhaps his moral construction is not meant to mirror life as we know it.