The Ridiculous

I watched The Darjeeling Limited tonight (for the first time.) This is not meant to be a true "review" since it's been out so long that I'll assume you've seen it by now if you were planning to. Spoilers ahead. I enjoyed it more than I thought I would. I thought it might be a little too clever and full of itself - you know, Wes Anderson can be a little cliquish with his humor and style. (I loved Tennenbaums, now - don't get me started.) But I was pleasantly surprised by how much the dialogue between the three brothers, Francis, Peter, and Jack, really rang true. I found Adrian Brody's character, Peter, to be the most relatable - his reaction shots alone were convincing to me of the exasperation that siblings frequently feel with one another. And traveling as they did with anyone, much less a sibling, can be stressful. Owen Wilson as Francis was the eldest, and pretty hilarious in his bossiness that really proved itself in the end to be his way of care-taking. Angelica Houston as their mother (revealed late in the movie) chose her sons' breakfasts for them, much as Francis chose their meals for them earlier, and I liked that refrain.

I was surprised by the poignancy of the scenes after the tragedy at the river. When Peter said, "I didn't save mine," my heart broke, and found the scenes after with the townspeople and especially the father to be understated and very moving. Not what I expected from what I'd seen in the trailers. When they send the brothers off with their blessings, the tears came again. Sweet message of communication transcending language.

I guess I call this post Ridiculous because I felt ridiculous crying at a Wes Anderson picture, and I just feel pretty ridiculous in general right now. This blog is certainly evidence of my ability to think, hope, dream, wish, fear - clearly those are the tip of the iceberg - and I'm in a place of doing all of those things and feeling pretty silly about it. The word "foolish" springs to mind as I think of how I've let myself go with joy and hope lately. I don't know how to be restrained (as, again, is evidenced by this blog) and I fear these conversations with God where I'm going to start feeling forgotten again, and I don't want to be angry with Him about it. After all, it is my thinking that hurts, not what He does to/for me.

Toward the end of the movie, the three brothers stand in front of a mirror, and for the first time, Francis removes the bandages he's had on his head for the entire film. Terrible gashes are revealed - long, still-bloody gashes that I half-thought didn't exist at all. As he removes the last of the bandages and takes in the view of his woundedness, he says, "I guess I've got some more healing to do." I think I'll use this as my opening statement in my prayer journal for the time being. Still true... more than ever, it feels like - you would think I'd have it by now, wouldn't you?