365 Films
Entry #89
Bottle Rocket (1996)
Directed by Wes Anderson
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.
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