In honor of the release of the
newest film by Wes Anderson, Moonrise
Kingdom, fish and the whale presents a series of entries detailing a
sequence from all six of Anderson’s previously released features. Each scene
displays Anderson’s impeccable taste for using popular music and images in the
most harmonious of unions. This is the Wonderful World of Wes.
I’m a little rusty on my
screenwriting terms (so sue me, or remark upon how blatantly ignorant I am in
the comments section), but I believe the scene from Bottle Rocket I have chosen would be the climax of the story. Dignan
(Owen Wilson) is trapped at the site of one of the most mind-bogglingly inept
robberies in the history of the universe. His brother Anthony (Luke Wilson), lookout
man Bob Mapplethorpe (Robert Musgrave), safecracker Kumar (Kumar Pallana), and
Apple-Jack (Jim Ponds, I’m not entirely sure what his job is), are fleeing from
a cold-storage facility after the alarm has been tripped. Anthony and Dignan
argue over who is going to return to the scene of the crime to rescue
Apple-Jack, who has been felled by a heart attack (and he is the sole possessor
of keys to their getaway van). The music playing over this section is part of Mark
Mothersbaugh’s original score for the film. The tribal drums and the metronomic
maracas, suggest perhaps an initiation ritual for Dignan. This is the ultimate
test, the trial by fire for his 75 year plan; he could flee the scene of the
crime or sacrifice himself for the well being of his fellow criminals. Dignan
pleads with Anthony to let him go resorting to one of the most endearing
declarations of leadership and power: “WHO is in charge here?” Claiming
authority with a question is just one of Dignan’s incomparable achievements. This
conversation leads to the most important dialogue spoken in the entire movie. Anthony
tells him that he knows what will happen to him if he goes back to get
Apple-Jack, Dignan replies, “No, I don’t. They’ll never catch me man, cause I’m
fuckin’ innocent.”
The score quietly fades out and the
camera pushes into Dignan’s face ever-so-slightly. We watch Dignan’s eyes as they race through all manner of
daring escapes he can make to avoid capture. It could also be read that they
are illuminating his entire life for him up to this point as he prepares to
make a decision that will no doubt radically alter it forever. Either way, the
smile that begins to creep into Dignan’s face and the gentle acoustic strumming
the opens the Rolling Stones’ 2000 Man, suggest that Dignan is not only living
the dream, but about to play it out in real life. Decision made. It’s also
important to note the sound design in this sequence; Anderson wisely leaves in
the natural droning wind of the location. I have no idea whether this was live
sound or taken from a library but let’s just assume the former for sake of
argument, plus, it doesn’t really matter one way or the other. The sound of the
drab storage facility wind is the boring life Dignan’s so absolutely petrified
of. That life is attempting to
over-power the wistful tempo of the Rolling Stones. That life is attempting to
shut off the movie that’s constantly playing in Dignan’s head.
The song completely takes over the
soundtrack once Dignan takes off for the plant (save for some footsteps and
yelling by the cops) and we are now in Dignan land. It is here where Anderson cuts away from the robbery and
reveals the twist of the story. The character of Mr. Henry (James Caan) reveals
himself to be a small-time con-man who has cleaned out the house of Bob
Mapplethorpe. He used Dignan as a surrogate son and protégé to get close to the
rich friend. Over the shots of Caan organizing the moving van filled with Bob’s
shit, Jagger sings about his name being a number and growing funny flowers on
the window sill. The chorus of the
song is revealed as “Don’t you know, I’m a 2000 man. And my kids, they just
don’t understand me at all.” If
you’ll indulge me to read WAY too much into this, I believe this is the final connection
and, in effect, the severing of the chord between Dignan and Mr. Henry. As the sequence of shots reveals,
Mr. Henry is last seen in a low angle close-up, billowing cigar smoke from his
mouth. He has finally morphed into
the imposing gangster figure we’ve been waiting for throughout the film. At the
same time, he is left utterly and completely alone. His kind of thievery and
Dignan’s brand are as different from each other as night and day. Take the very
next cut of Dignan helping the ailing Apple-Jack to the van. His selflessness
and humility stand in sharp contrast to Mr. Henry “I-got-mine-so-fuck-you” selfishness.
As much as Mr. Henry tried to mold
Dignan into his apprentice, we now see that his failure is absolute and total.
Dignan’s sacrifice wouldn’t be
complete without him actually having to sacrifice something. His valiant act of
bravery aside, Dignan is still Dignan, and he locks himself out of the van. The
music changes rhythm here completely. The cops corner Dignan, and we think this
is the end. Then, as if spurred on by the faster tempo of the second part of
the song, Dignan takes off back into the storage facility. It is here, according to this writer,
that the scene becomes iconic.
Wilson, in his banana-yellow jumpsuit armed with a gun, running away
from the cops with exhilarating comic desperation. Nobody else can pull this
off quite like Wes Anderson. It is here that the song begins to repeat the same
set of lyrics over and over again, “Oh daddy, proud of your planet. Oh mummy, proud of your sun.”
Note once again, the re-occurrence of the parent-child relationship reflected
in the lyrics. The only variance
is in the following lyrics, which appear in the song when Dignan heads for the
location of his eventual last stand: a giant fish freezer filled with ice. “Like it did when you were young.
Or do you come down
crashin. Seeing all the things you'd done. All was a big put on.”
Dignan must now face the objective reality of his situation. Everything is
about to come crashing down. He gets stuck in the freezer; the cops corner him,
ignore his surrender, and begin to violently sub-due him. And even though he is
getting repeatedly punched in the stomach, Dignan is still trying to talk his
way out of it.
The last shot of the
sequence is Dignan, handcuffed and led by the police out of the facility into a
police car. The first thing that struck me about this final shot is how similar
it looks (I guess it’s the other way around) like the shot in Rushmore of Max
being led away by the police after Blume reports him for cutting the brakes on
his car. The scene in Rushmore is an explosion of adolescent rage. The look on
Max’s face as he’s pushed through the halls of his new high school and the
pounding drums of The Who’s A Quick One While He’s Away convey this. In Bottle
Rocket, the song reverts back to its original tempo and Jagger repeats the
chorus. The look on Dignan’s face suggests an exhilarating defiance. He has
finally achieved his dream of being a career criminal. We may not understand
him at all, but we’ll follow Dignan wherever he goes. Why? Because he’s fuckin’
innocent.
