In which Wes Anderson and I make up.

When the Darjeeling Limited came out a couple of years ago, I was joined in line and excitement by individuals with hipster and indie leanings (and absolutely fabulous haircuts) on opening night. I even was prepped by Shug's BFBF (Best Fellow Bearded Friend) by watching "Hotel Chevalier" on his spanking new and oh-so-coveted iPhone right before the show.

I was SO ready to fall in love again with Wes and his new creation, but after the credits rolled I was more than disappointed! I waxed philosophic about how formulaic Wes's storylines were and how each character was more of a caricature composed solely of nervous tics and fabulous clothes. In a word, I felt cheated.

Every other time I'd left the theatre after a Wes Anderson film, I had loved the way the movie made me feel. That kind of warm, satiated feeling one gets right before you drift off for an afternoon nap is similar to my sentiments while viewing the Royal Tenenbaums or Rushmore. And just like afternoon naps, I usually talk at length about these almost fabled occurrences. Meticulous planning and anticipation lead up to a Wes Anderson film...likewise for a long luxurious midday nap.

So imagine my dismay when The Darjeeling Limited failed to reach my lofty expectations. Almost two years later, I decided to give ol' Wes another go...

And I loved the movie the second time around! I loved the quirks, the music, the absolutely expected plot twists and most of all I loved the contented reflective daze that the rolling credits left me in...It was overdone, but I have to believe Wes wanted it that way...or I'd hate it still.

Well. Adrian Brody running in slow-mo didn't hurt the situation, either.