Dahl and Anderson
Author Versus Auteur
Place: Amsterdam Name student: Jip Brock
Programme: Media Studies: Film Studies Student number: 10013814 Course: MA Thesis Media Studies
Name instructor: G. van der Pol Date: 26 June 2015 Name second reader: C. Forceville Word count: 22.519
Abstract
In 2009, American film director and screenwriter Wes Anderson adapted Fantastic Mr. Fox, a children’s novel written by British author Roald Dahl in 1970. Having established a very distinctive visual and narrative style with his previous five feature films, Anderson surprised a lot of his fans and critics by making a stop-motion animated film. In her article “Fidelity, Felicity, and Playing Around in Wes Anderson’s Fantastic Mr. Fox,” Adrienne Kertzer writes that she was also surprised that Anderson would adapt a book by Dahl, since they have little in common. I strongly disagree with this view. In my opinion, there are a lot of similarities between Dahl’s children’s novels and Anderson’s films. Examples are the way they depict adults and children and their preference for dark humor and irony. In this thesis, I explore these similarities in order to show that Kertzer is wrong, and that it is not at all surprising that Anderson would adapt Dahl’s book. What I want to argue most of all, is that Fantastic Mr. Fox fits perfectly with Anderson’s other work. What this thesis provides in a broader sense, then, is the idea that auteurism goes further than being in the possession of a distinctive style.
Index
Introduction 4
1. Wes Anderson as Auteur 7
1.1 Genre Theory 1.2 Auteur Theory
1.3 Wes Anderson as Auteur
2. Dahl and Anderson: Characters 13
2.1 Characters 2.2 Dahl’s Characters 2.3 Anderson’s Characters 2.4 Parents and Children 2.5 Conclusion
3. Dahl and Anderson: Tone 21
3.1 Tone 3.2 Dahl’s Tone 3.3 Anderson’s Tone 3.4 Conclusion
4. Fantastic Mr. Fox 27
4.1 Adapting Fantastic Mr. Fox
4.2 Fantastic Mr. Fox as an Anderson Film 4.3 Conclusion
5. Animals in the Films of Wes Anderson 33
5.1 Animals in Film 5.2 Animals in Rushmore
5.3 Animals in The Royal Tenenbaums
5.4 Animals in The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou 5.5 Animals in Moonrise Kingdom
5.6 Conclusion
6. Argumentation 39
6.1 Dahl and Anderson: Characters 6.2 Dahl and Anderson: Tone 6.3 Fantastic Mr. Fox
6.4 Animals in the Films of Wes Anderson
Conclusion 48
Introduction
“Grown-ups are complicated creatures, full of quirks and secrets.” – Roald Dahl in Danny, the Champion of the World
In 2009, American film director and screenwriter Wes Anderson adapted Fantastic Mr. Fox, a children’s novel written by British author Roald Dahl in 1970. Having established a very distinctive visual and narrative style with his previous five feature films, Anderson surprised a lot of his fans and critics by making a stop-motion animated film. In her article “Fidelity, Felicity, and Playing Around in Wes Anderson’s Fantastic Mr. Fox,” Adrienne Kertzer writes that she was also surprised that Anderson would adapt a book by Dahl, since they have little in common:
Few would conclude on the basis of [Anderson’s] earlier films that Anderson and Dahl [resemble] each other in any way. […] Other than sharing a sense of alienation and on occasion being criticized for their problematic representations of gender and race […] Anderson and Dahl appear radically different (6).
I strongly disagree with this view. In my opinion, there are a lot of similarities between Dahl and Anderson. Examples are the way they depict adults (often benighted, bad at parenting or evil) and children (often independent, smart and witty) and their preference for irony and dark humor. I would like to explore these similarities in order to show that Kertzer is wrong, and that it is not at all surprising that Anderson would adapt Dahl’s book. After all, Fantastic Mr. Fox is the first book Anderson ever owned (6).
In response to Kertzer’s article, what I want to argue most of all, is that Fantastic Mr. Fox fits perfectly with Anderson’s other work. I think it is unjust that the film is often perceived as an exception to Anderson’s oeuvre, and therefore feel the need to correct this view. Many people consider Anderson as a modern day auteur, and I think it is unfair to assume that Fantastic Mr. Fox damages this status in any way. Even though the film distinguishes itself by being stop-motion animated and thus having a different visual style, it is just as evidently a Wes Anderson film as Anderson’s other seven feature films. What this thesis provides in a broader sense, then, is the idea that auteurism goes further than being in the possession of a distinctive style. Because even when the films of a certain director differ stylistically, there are still many – maybe more underlying – elements that can link them together and create an authorial stamp. Think, for example, about recurring themes and character traits. In the chapters that follow, this will absolutely become evident.
In the first chapter, “Wes Anderson as Auteur,” I will contextualize Anderson’s films and explain why he is considered as an auteur. Before going into this, I will briefly define genre theory and auteur theory, in order to provide a better understanding of these concepts. According to auteur theory, an important characteristic of the auteur is being in the
possession of an authentic and distinctive style. Usually, the films of an auteur are instantly recognizable. In the chapters that follow, I will show that even though Fantastic Mr. Fox differs stylistically from Anderson’s other work, the film does not damage Anderson’s status as auteur.
In the second and third chapter, I will explore the similarities between Anderson’s eight feature films – Bottle Rocket (1996), Rushmore (1998), The Royal Tenenbaums (2001), The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou (2004), The Darjeeling Limited (2007), Fantastic Mr. Fox (2009), Moonrise Kingdom (2012) and The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014) – and Dahl’s children’s novels. Because Dahl has written around twenty stories for children, I will not be able to discuss all of them extensively. Therefore, I will mainly focus on some of his most familiar ones, including Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (1964), The Witches (1983) and Matilda (1988). In the second chapter, “Dahl and Anderson: Characters,” I will explore the characters of Dahl and Anderson. I will start this chapter by providing a brief definition of the concept of character. Following this, I will present a couple of case studies to show that the characters of Dahl and Anderson are very similar. I will end this chapter by focusing on the relationship between parents and children. In the third chapter, “Dahl and Anderson: Tone,” I will explore the tones of Dahl and Anderson. I will start this chapter by providing a brief definition of the concept of tone. In the paragraphs that follow, I will discuss a couple of examples that show that the tones of Dahl and Anderson are very similar.
In the fourth chapter, “Fantastic Mr. Fox,” I will explore Anderson’s approach to Fantastic Mr. Fox. The first part of this chapter will be about the process of adaptation. How has Anderson adapted Dahl’s story? What elements did he change and why? Does the film somehow reflect Anderson’s admiration for Dahl? The second part will focus on Fantastic Mr. Fox in comparison to Anderson’s other films. Here, I want to show that Fantastic Mr. Fox has a similar narrative style, similar themes and similar characters to Anderson’s other work. In other words, Fantastic Mr. Fox fits perfectly with Anderson’s other work, and is not at all an exception.
In the fifth chapter, “Animals in the Films of Wes Anderson,” I will explore the role of animals in the films of Anderson. My aim is to show that Anderson’s choice to adapt Fantastic Mr. Fox – a story that is driven by animal characters – is not random at all. In fact, animals play a significant role in many of Anderson’s films. Again, this links him to Dahl, whose stories usually include animals – think, for example, about The Enormous Crocodile (The Enormous Crocodile, 1978), Alfie (Esio Trot, 1990) and the various creatures James meets in James and the Giant Peach (1961). I will start this chapter by discussing the role of animals in film more generally. In the paragraphs that follow, I will present a couple of case studies to show that Anderson ascribes great importance to the animal characters in his films.
In the sixth and final chapter, “Argumentation,” I will discuss my findings from the previous chapters, in order to form a clear conclusion. In this research, I will frequently use the word “spectator.” With this word, I am alluding to the general film viewer with a Western cultural background. Belonging to this category myself, I can assume that the way I look at my
corpus will to a great extent correspond with that of other spectators. However, I am also a film student, so my way of viewing will obviously be a lot more critical.
1. Wes Anderson as Auteur
In this chapter, I will contextualize Anderson’s films and explain why he is considered as an auteur. Before going into this, I will briefly define genre theory and auteur theory, in order to provide a better understanding of these concepts.
1.1 Genre Theory
The term genre is drawn from the Latin word genus, which means “kind.” Genre criticism began as “the classification of the diverse kinds of literary texts and the evolution of literary forms” (Stam 13). Nowadays, the term is widely used to classify all kinds of media texts, including films. Some of the genres used in film theory are drawn from literature (comedy, tragedy, melodrama) or other media (the musical), while others are more specifically cinematic (actualities, travelogues, animated cartoons). They can be based on many different elements, such as story content (the war film), performers (the Astaire-Rogers films), budget (blockbusters), artistic status (the art film), racial identity (Black cinema), locate (the Western) or sexual orientation (Queer cinema) (14).
The corpus of a genre is established in two different ways. On the one hand, there is a list of films that corresponds to “a simple, tautological definition of the genre” (Altman 7). The western, for example, can be defined as a film that takes place in the American West. On the other hand, people such as critics and theoreticians stick to “a familiar canon which has little to do with the broad, tautological definition” (7). They mention the same films again and again, “not only because they are well known or particularly well made, but because they somehow seem to represent the genre more fully and faithfully than other apparently more tangential films” (7).
In his article “A Semantic/Syntactic Approach to Film Genre,” Rick Altman separates two different approaches to genre: the semantic approach and the syntactic approach. The semantic approach distinguishes between “generic definitions which depend on a list of common traits, attitudes, characters, shots, locations, sets, and the like” (10). An example is the vast, dry landscape, the lonely sheriff and the use of fast tracking shots and crane shots in the western. The syntactic approach analyses the narrative structure and themes of a genre, such as the opposition between community and individual or between good and bad in the western. In other words, “the semantic approach […] stresses the genre’s building blocks, while the syntactic [approach] privileges the structures into which they are arranged” (10). According to Altman, these two approaches are complementary. He even argues that “some of the most important questions of genre study can be asked only when they are combined” (11).
In his book Hollywood Genres: Formulas, Filmmaking, and the Studio System, Thomas Schatz makes a distinction between the film genre and the genre film. According to Schatz, the film genre “exists as a sort of tacit “contract” between filmmakers and the
audience,” whereas the genre film “is an actual event that honors such a contract” (16). To discuss the western genre, for example, “is to address neither a single western film nor even all westerns, but rather that system of conventions which identifies western films as such” (16). Another important point made by Schatz is the fact that in a sense, a film genre is both a static and a dynamic system:
On the one hand, it is a familiar formula of interrelated narrative and cinematic components that serves to continually reexamine some basic cultural conflict. […] On the other hand, changes in cultural attitudes, new influential genre films, the economics of the industry, and so forth, continually refine any film genre. As such, its nature is constantly evolving (16).
In his article “Questions of Genre,” Steve Neale argues that “genres do not only consist of films” (46):
They consist also, and equally, of specific systems of expectation and hypothesis which spectators bring with them to the cinema, and which interact with films themselves during the course of the viewing process. These systems provide spectators with means of recognition and understanding. They help render films, and the elements within them, intelligible and therefore explicable (46).
If, for example, a character in a film suddenly bursts into song, the spectator will probably assume that they are watching a musical (46). Every time we watch a new film, our “horizon of generic expectations” is altered (cited in Stam 127).
Defining genres is anything but a simple task. According to Robert Stam, the process is plagued by four key problems: extension (some generic labels are too broad, whereas others are too narrow), normativism (having a preconceived idea of what a genre film should do), monolithism (treating films as if they belong to only one genre) and biologism (seeing genres as evolving through a life cycle, “moving from birth to maturity, to parodic decline”) (128). Another aspect that problematizes genre analysis is the fact that sometimes, genres are submerged, “as when a film appears on the surface to belong to one genre yet on a deeper level belongs to another” (129). Because of these problems, Stam proposes the following:
The most useful way of using genre, perhaps, is to see it as a set of discursive resources, a trampoline for creativity, by which a given director can gentrify a “low” genre, vulgarize a “noble” genre, inject new energy into an exhausted genre, pour new progressive content into a conservative genre, or parody a genre that deserves ridicule (129-130).
Disavowing genre discourse, as Stam describes here, is a very important characteristic of the auteur.
1.2 Auteur Theory
In the late 1950s and early 1960s, film theory became dominated by a movement called auteurism. In his essay “Birth of a New Avant-Garde: The Camera-Pen,” Alexandre Astruc
argued that “the cinema was becoming a new means of expression analogous to painting or the novel” (Stam 83). This new type of cinema “valorized the act of filmmaking; the director was no longer merely the servant of a pre-existing text (novel, screenplay) but a creative artist in his/her own right” (83). In his essay “A Certain Tendency of the French Cinema,” François Truffaut criticized the “tradition of quality,” which “turned the classics of French literature into predictably well-furnished, well-spoken, and stylistically formulaic films” (84). According to Truffaut, this tradition “reduced filmmaking to the mere translation of a pre-existing screenplay, when it should be seen as an open-ended adventure in creative mise-en-scene” (84). For Truffaut, a film should “resemble the person who made it, not so much through autobiographical content but rather through the style, which impregnates the film with the personality of its director” (84). Between 1954 and 1957, directors such as Renoir, Buñuel, Rossellini, Hitchcock, Hawks, Ophuls, Minnelli, Welles, (Nicholas) Ray and Visconti were praised for their work as auteurs (85).
In his article “Notes on the Auteur Theory in 1962,” Andrew Sarris presents three criteria of the auteur, which he sees as three circles: an outer circle, which represents technical competence, a middle circle, which represents distinguishable style, and an inner circle, which represents interior meaning (562-563). He explains that “the corresponding roles of the director may be designated as those of a technician, a stylist and an auteur” (563). In her article “Circles and Squares,” Pauline Kael criticizes Sarris’s three criteria. Firstly, she argues, technical competence is hardly a valid criterion. The greatness of a director has nothing to do with mere technical competence, but rather with being able to achieve a personal expression and style (14). Secondly, having a distinguishable style is not necessarily a good thing. As Kael puts it, “the smell of a skunk is more distinguishable than the perfume of a rose; does that make it better?” (15). Thirdly, interior meaning is irrelevant, because it encourages the director to work against the given material, “shoving bits of style up the crevasses of the plots” (17). What Sarris and Kael do share, however, is “the idea that film theory [or] criticism should be evaluative, concerned with the comparative ranking of films and directors” (Stam 90).
Critics also pointed out that auteur theory “[underestimates] the impact of production conditions on authorship” (90). Contrary to the poet, who can write poems on a napkin in prison, the filmmaker requires money, equipment and the creative participation of people such as composers and set designers. In other words, filmmaking is a collaborative process (90). In his book Signs and Meaning in the Cinema, Peter Wollen argues that it is important to detach the auteur from representing a “cult of personality.” It is possible, however, to decipher a structure in their films (167):
Auteur analysis does not consist of re-tracing a film to its origins, to its creative source. It consists of tracing a structure (not a message) within the work, which can then post factum be assigned to an individual, the director, on empirical grounds. It is wrong, in the name of denial of the traditional idea of creative subjectivity, to deny any status to individuals at all. But Fuller or Hawks or Hitchcock, the directors, are quite separate from “Fuller” or “Hawks” or “Hitchcock,” the structures named after them, and should not be methodologically confused (168).
In his essay “The Death of the Author,” Roland Barthes even goes as far as to argue that in relation to the literary text, the biographical author is dead. His authority is transferred to the reader:
The reader is the space on which all the quotations that make up a writing are inscribed without any of them being lost; a text’s unity lies not in its origin but in its destination. […] Classic criticism has never paid any attention to the reader; for it, the writer is the only person in literature. […] We know [now] that to give writing its future, it is necessary to overthrow the myth: the birth of the reader must be at the cost of the death of the Author (148).
The idea that a text can be interpreted in different ways by different people gradually has been taken over by media studies.1
Despite all the criticism, auteur theory has been very important for the development of film theory. It has taught us to study film in a systematic way by analyzing elements such as style and recurring themes and patterns. Nowadays, contemporary directors are sometimes still considered as auteurs (Pisters 57-58). Think, for example, about Quentin Tarantino, David Lynch or… Wes Anderson.
1.3 Wes Anderson as Auteur
Wes Anderson (born in 1969) has been a film director and screenwriter since the early nineties. In 1991, he started working on his first film script (together with friend and actor Owen Wilson), which resulted in the short film Bottle Rocket (1994). Two years later, he got the opportunity to extend this short into a feature-length film, which was praised by critics and gave him a bigger audience. This allowed him to work on a second film, Rushmore (1998). With the release of his third film, The Royal Tenenbaums (2001), Anderson finally gained critical, box office and Academy notice (Bio). He went on to make five more films – The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou (2004), The Darjeeling Limited (2007), Fantastic Mr. Fox (2009), Moonrise Kingdom (2012) and The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014) – earning him a total of six Academy Award nominations (IMDb).
Over the years, Anderson has developed a very distinctive visual and narrative style. In his book Wes Anderson: Why His Movies Matter, Mark Browning argues:
In an era of generic and stylistic homogeneity, there are, at present, very few filmmakers whose work is instantly recognizable. The only movies Wes Anderson films look like are other Wes Anderson films. For fans, this adds to his growing reputation as distinctive auteur; for his critics, it signals creative stagnation (9). Whether you love his films or hate them, it is undeniable that Anderson’s “unique manner has infected movie comedies in a big way” (Aisenberg n.pag). In his book Indie: An American Film Culture, Michael Z. Newman refers to “the indie trend of “quirky” cinema, exemplified by Wes Anderson and his many admirers and imitators” (44). Quirky films often combine various
1
See for example Stuart Hall. “Encoding/Decoding.” Culture, Media, Language: Working Papers intypes of comedy, have a slightly absurd visual style and are frequently preoccupied with the theme of innocence (MacDowell, Wes Anderson… 8-9). All of these aspects “help create a tone that exists on a knife-edge of comic detachment and emotional engagement – or, put in another, blunter way: a conflicted tone dealing in tensions between “irony” and “sincerity” (10). A word that is often used to describe this tone is “melancomic” (Thomas 97-98). The melancomic film “can be contextualised within smart cinema – a wave of contemporary, often controversial American films identified by cultural theorist Jeffrey Sconce” (98). According to Sconce, “new American smart films” are not quite art films, nor Hollywood films, nor independent films, but “share an aura of “intelligence” that distinguishes them (and their audiences) from the perceived “dross” (and “rabble”) of the mainstream multiplex” (Sconce 351). They manifest “a prediction for irony, black humour, fatalism, relativism and […] even nihilism” (350).
Anderson’s films have been the topic of many articles within the field of film studies. Most of these articles discuss Anderson’s authentic and distinctive style. In his book, Browning explains:
Although Anderson is dealing in a visual rather than a purely literary medium, he is still a writer, having at least co-written all of his films, which up to Fantastic Mr. Fox, were not based on the works of others. This has led to the development of an individual and distinctive voice, clearly different from those around him, and a concern for the style of the medium in which he works. At his best, this can create cinematic moments where the style seems to capture a key aspect of a character or a situation in a memorable line or image (10).
Because Anderson’s style has become so incredibly recognizable, it is often the subject of mockery. The online magazine Slate, for example, has created several variations of what they call “Wes Anderson Bingo.” On their website, people can download boards that list Anderson trademarks, such as sibling rivalry, yellow titles and symmetrical framing (see figure 1). Identify five of them in a row, and you have won the game. Playing a few games will show “how detailed […] the personal stamp Anderson leaves on all his movies [is]” (Allen, Kirk and Wickman n.pag).
Another aspect that is frequently discussed, is the fact that while Anderson’s films are classified as comedies, he clearly puts his own spin on the genre. By breaking the conventions of the comedy film and inventing a style that is almost a subgenre of its own, Anderson has established a status as auteur. In the next chapters, this will absolutely become evident.
2. Dahl and Anderson: Characters
In this chapter, I will explore the characters of Dahl’s children’s novels and Anderson’ films. Roald Dahl (1916-1990) started his writing career in the early forties. He mainly wrote stories and articles for magazines, including The New Yorker. In 1942, he wrote his first story for children, The Gremlins. Because this story was not very successful, Dahl went back to writing for adults. In 1961 – after becoming a parent himself – he decided to give writing for children another try, which resulted in James and the Giant Peach. This book did meet with wide critical and commercial acclaim. Following this success, Dahl wrote around twenty stories for children, including Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (1964), The Witches (1983), Matilda (1988) and, of course, Fantastic Mr. Fox (1970) (Bio). I will start this chapter by providing a brief definition of the concept of character. Following this, I will present a couple of case studies to show that the characters of Dahl and Anderson are very similar. I will end this chapter by focusing on the relationship between parents and children.
2.1 Characters
In the introduction of their book Characters in Fictional Worlds: Understanding Imaginary Beings in Literature, Film, and Other Media, Jens Eder, Fotis Jannidis and Ralf Schneider explore the concept of character. In this paragraph, I will provide an overview of the ideas and concepts they discuss. This will help me gain insight into the characters of Dahl and Anderson, which I will examine in the following paragraphs.
According to Eder, Jannidis and Schneider, the concept of character might best be defined as a “recognisable fictional being, to which the ability to think and act is ascribed” (10). However, some characters are difficult to identify or recognize (such as models in advertisements), some are not completely fictional (such as representations of historical persons), some can not use their bodies to act, and some are even dead from the beginning of the story. In addition to that, “not all characters exist within the main level of the fictional world at all. […] They can be factual, counterfactual, hypothetical, conditional, or purely subjective” (10). Within a narrative, characters can assume many different functions or roles. Some of the most common character roles exist since Greek antiquity: “protagonist” refers to the main character of a narrative […], and “antagonist” to its main opponent” (20). In 1928, Vladimir Propp analyzed a hundred Russian fairy tales, “constructing a sequence of 31 functions which he attributed to seven […] types of character: opponent, donor, helper, princess and her father, dispatcher, hero [and] false hero” (21). Since then, many theorists have attempted to create similar models. While all of these models are very different, they all contain a similar core constellation of protagonist and antagonist (21).
An important tool for the analysis and interpretation of characters is the concept of character constellation (27). Usually, characters do not appear on their own in narratives, but “are part of a constellation of at least two, and frequently many more, characters” (26). All of
these characters are in some way related to each other. The terms protagonist and antagonist, for example, “[classify] a character in terms of [its] function in the action” (26). Other terms, such as minor character, opponent, or parallel character, point in the same direction. Constellation analysis facilitates the investigation of the various kinds of relationships between characters, such as “their social relationships (conflicts and bonds), their values and norms (moral and otherwise), their diegetic and aesthetic similarities and differences (parallel and foil characters), the hierarchies of relevance (main [versus] minor characters), and their dramaturgical and thematic functions” (27).
The term characterization can be understood as the process of assigning a certain number of properties – or character traits – to a person, as for example in “he was shy and anxious” (30-31). In a broader sense, the term can be used to refer to all information associated with a character, including time, place, actions and events. Important sources of such information are explicit textual ascriptions, textual cues and references to “historically and culturally variable real-world conventions” (34). Another important factor is the role of names, since a lot of names “quite overtly hint at individual characteristic qualities, features or habits” (37). For the reader or spectator, this distribution of information helps them understand the character’s motivations (32). The term character type (or archetype) refers to “a fixed set of character traits […] which feature repeatedly in certain media products” (38). Common examples include the mad scientist, the femme fatale and the trickster. It is possible for a typified character to change, but this usually happens in a typical way (38-39). While some character types are based on “everyday social types that a society develops” – or stereotypes – others find their source in “fictional media representations of characters that exist in society” (39-40). The classical Hollywood genres usually “[seem] to involve certain character types: cowboys in the Western, […] monsters in the horror movie, aliens in the science fiction film, […] and so on” (42-43). As I have briefly explained in the previous chapter, these kind of genre conventions will “trigger a complex set of expectations” within the spectator (43).
Now that I have established how characters, their functions and roles, and their relationships are constructed, I am able to analyze the characters of Dahl and Anderson. When comparing Dahl and Anderson, one thing that is immediately noticeable is their similar way of depicting adults and children. In both Dahl’s children’s novels and Anderson’s films, the adults are often depicted in a negative way: they are benighted, bad at parenting or evil. The children, on the other hand, are depicted in a much more positive way: they are independent, smart and witty. In the following paragraphs, I will present a couple of case studies to illustrate this argument.
2.2 Dahl’s Characters
In this paragraph, I will examine how adults and children are depicted in Dahl’s children’s novels. I will present two case studies: The Witches and Matilda. In The Witches, Andreas goes to live with his grandmother after his parents are killed in a car crash. She tells him stories about witches, who look just like ordinary women, but are in fact evil creatures who
seek to kill children. When Andreas’s grandmother becomes ill, they decide to stay at a hotel on the English coast, where a large group of witches also happens to be gathering for their annual meeting. Andreas ends up in their meeting room by accident, and observes them while they discuss a plan to turn as many children as possible into mice.
The witches are described as hideous creatures. At the beginning of the meeting, Andreas watches them as they start to remove their disguises: wigs that cover their bald heads, gloves that cover their clawed hands and shoes that cover their square, toeless feet. Their leader, The Grand High Witch, also removes a mask that covers her face, which seems “quite literally to be rotten away” (73). The appearance of the witches perfectly reflects their personality, which is truly evil. They “[hate] children with a red-hot sizzling hatred that is more sizzling and red-hot than any hatred you could possibly imagine” and “[their] mind will always be plotting and scheming and churning and burning and whizzing and phizzing with murderous bloodthirsty thoughts” (8). Andreas, on the other hand, is an innocent little kid, who cares a lot about his grandmother. At the end of the book, he manages to steal the witches’ potion and pours it into their soup. One by one, the witches turn into mice themselves and are killed by the hotel staff. The Witches thus shows how one young, heroic boy is able to outsmart a large group of evil adults – with only a little help from his grandmother.
Matilda tells the story of its titular character, a young, highly intelligent girl. Even though Matilda is smart, sweet and polite, her parents show no interest in her at all. When Matilda goes to school for the first time, her teacher, Miss Honey, is amazed by her intellectual abilities and tries to move her to a higher class. She is refused by the headmistress, Miss Trunchbull, who is told by Matilda’s father that Matilda is a bad girl who will cause a lot of trouble. Miss Honey then decides that she will try her best to find a way to help Matilda.
Most of the adults in Matilda’s life are benighted and mean. Her parents frequently tell her she is stupid and useless, which is – besides bad parenting – absolutely untrue. Their horrible personality is reflected in their tacky and unappealing appearance. Matilda’s father is described as “a small ratty-looking man whose front teeth [stick] out underneath a thin ratty moustache” (15) and her mother as a woman with platinum blonde hair, heavy make-up and an “unfortunate bulging [figure]” (19). Miss Trunchbull is “a gigantic holy terror, a fierce tyrannical monster who [frightens] the life out of the pupils and teachers alike” (57). When her students misbehave, she locks them in a cupboard that has shards of glass and spikey nails sticking out of the walls. Her appearance is equally unappealing, she is described as having “an obstinate chin, a cruel mouth and small arrogant eyes” (74). All of these adults clearly stand in the way of Matilda’s happiness, as well as her education. Nevertheless, Matilda is able to fight back by using her intelligence and her newfound telekinetic powers. At the end of the book, the mean adults are all punished for their behavior and Matilda lives happily ever after.
It is important to note that not all adults in The Witches and Matilda are depicted in a negative way. Both novels contain one loving and caring adult that is on the protagonist’s side and
helps them achieve their goals: Andreas’s grandmother and Miss Honey. At the same time, not all children are depicted in a positive way. In The Witches, there is the character of Bruno Jenkins, a boy who never stops boasting about his rich parents and finds pleasure in roasting ants with a magnifying glass. And while Matilda finds it easy to make friends at her new school, not all of her schoolmates are nice to her. However, most of the adults – including the antagonist(s) – are benighted, mean or evil and most of the children – including the protagonist – are smart, innocent and sweet.
What is noticeable about Dahl’s novels, is the fact that the “bad” characters are often described as unattractive or overweight – or they are associated with eating a lot of food. In addition to the examples I have provided above, this includes Bruno Jenkins, “one of those boys who is always eating something whenever you meet him” (The Witches 101) and Hortensia, “a rugged ten-year-old with a boil on her nose,” who is “eating from an extra large bag of potato crisps” as she bullies Matilda (Matilda 92). Another striking aspect is the names Dahl has given to his characters. Just like their appearances, the names of his characters usually reflect their personality. The name Honey, for example, signifies sweetness, which perfectly suits its owner. The name Trunchbull, on the other hand, seems to refer to “truncheon” – a weapon – and “bull” – a dangerous animal. Because the appearances and the names of the characters are quite literal, children can easily identify the “good” and the “bad” ones.
2.3 Anderson’s Characters
In this paragraph, I will examine how adults and children are depicted in the films of Anderson. I will present two case studies: The Royal Tenenbaums and Moonrise Kingdom. The Royal Tenenbaums tells the story of the Tenenbaum family. A sequence at the beginning of the film introduces the family to the spectator. One of the first scenes shows father Royal and his three children sitting at a table, where he tells them that their mother has asked him to leave. He explains that he still loves them, but the fact that he is sitting as far away from his children as possible already indicates distance. Mother Etheline raises the children on her own. While she seems to make their education her highest priority, she also does irresponsible things, like giving 187 dollars to her son when he asks for it – without even questioning what he is going to use it for. The children occasionally see their father, but he does not seem to care about their feelings all that much. When they perform a play that daughter Margot wrote, he criticizes it for being unbelievable. Even though Royal and Etheline are not exactly successful at being good parents, their children are incredibly smart and gifted. Chas breeds a race of Dalmatian mice and starts buying real-estate in his early teens, Margot is a precocious playwright and Richie is a champion tennis player. However, as soon as they become adults, their success fades. Margot lapses into depression, Richie has a meltdown during a match and Chas has become extremely protective over his sons since his wife died, which results in an insane amount of fire-drill practices.
The Royal Tenenbaums thus seems to value children much more than adults. When they are young, Margot, Richie and Chas are happy, free spirited and adventurous. They find pleasure in exploring many hobbies and excel at most of them. As soon as they grow up, they lose all of these traits and become depressed and pessimistic instead. They no longer have any passions and do not really know what they want to do with their lives. For a large part, this is caused by the relationship they have with their father, which has gotten very bad since he left. Margot, Richie and Chas no longer feel as valued and appreciated as they did before. By the end of the film, Royal realizes that he has mistreated his family and needs to make amends. As soon as the relationship between Royal and his children improves, they slowly begin to get their lives together again. The Royal Tenenbaums thus shows the importance of family, and conveys the idea that parents are for a large part responsible for the happiness of their children. Regarded in this way, the film portrays children as innocent victims and adults as instigators of trouble.
In Moonrise Kingdom, twelve-year-old Sam sneaks away from his summer camp to join his girlfriend Suzy, who is running away from home. Both children are very intelligent and mature for their age. Their decision to run away is mostly based on the fact that they want to live their lives without adults telling them what to do. While Sam and Suzy are trying to find a secluded place to set up their camp, Suzy’s parents and Sam’s Scout Master discover that the children are gone. With the help of a police officer, Sam and Suzy are eventually found on a beach. Instead of being glad that their daughter is okay, Suzy’s parents angrily drag her away from Sam, exclaiming that she can never see him again. At the same time, the Scout Master hands Sam a letter from his foster parents, who write that they will not allow him to return home. Disappointed by the reaction of their parents, Sam and Suzy run away again. They are now also on the run from Social Services, which is represented by a woman who wants to place Sam in a “juvenile refuge” and thinks he might need electroshock therapy. It is clear that most of the adults in this film do not take Sam and Suzy – or their relationship – seriously. Instead, they see them as immature, reckless children, who can not possibly know what is right for them. In reality, the adults are the ones that are acting childish, while Sam and Suzy are much wiser than they are given credit for.
Just like The Royal Tenenbaums, Moonrise Kingdom thus seems to value children much more than adults. Not only are Sam and Suzy very intelligent and mature for their age, they are also imaginative, adventurous and brave. On the contrary, their parents and most of the other adults in the film are unfeeling and inconsiderate. This causes Sam and Suzy to feel misunderstood and underappreciated, which is why they do not have a close relationship with their family. After they have run away to the beach, they finally feel the sense of freedom they have been longing for. This enables them to discover their own identity, as well as explore their sexuality. The fact that their parents label this behavior as immature and reckless shows how inconsiderate they are. The message that Moonrise Kingdom conveys is thus that parents should not belittle their children, but need to take them seriously instead. Also,
children should have the ability to discover things on their own, even though this will cause them to make mistakes every now and then. After all, they are tougher than you might think.
2.4 Parents and Children
In the previous paragraphs, I have examined how adults and children are depicted in Dahl’s children’s novels and Anderson’s films. In this paragraph, I want to focus more on their relationship, in particular on the relationship between the children and their parents. I will start by discussing Jeffrey Blustein’s article “On the Duties of Parents and Children,” in which he examines this type of relationship. Following this, I will explore the relationships between parents and children in The Witches, Matilda, The Royal Tenenbaums and Moonrise Kingdom.
In his article, Blustein mostly talks about the duties parents and children have to each other. He argues that parents have “special duties” to their children, because they “bear primary responsibility for harm or suffering that might come to [these needy beings]” (428). He explains that harm is either caused positively, when something is done to the child, or negatively, when someone fails to do something for the child. However, child-rearing is not the exclusive concern of the parents, but a legitimate public concern. Because of this, Blustein goes on to examine three types of interests: the legitimate interests of the child, the legitimate interests of the parents – or his preferred term, child-rearers – and the legitimate interests of society (428-430).
The legitimate interests of the child include physical care, education and socialization, and “the warmth, consistency and continuity of the relationship that [he or she] has with the person who takes care of [him or her]” (430). Child-rearers value their children “because they are future continuators of the family [and] potential sources for relief and aid,” but most of all “because they are new bonds of love” (431). However, “when child-rearers perceive the raising of their children as an overwhelming burden, […] they are likely to become resentful of [them]. This is the source of much of the pathology of family life” (431). Finally, the legitimate interests of society include the following: “first, an interest in the maintenance of a certain level of procreation, and in the physical care, education, and socialization of children; second, an interest in seeing to it that the institutions responsible for carrying out these tasks mesh with other social institutions” (432).
Not only do child-rearers have duties to their children, children have duties to their child-rearers as well. During the first period of the child’s life (until adolescence), these duties include facilitation and non-interference: “the child has duties to facilitate and not interfere with the rearer’s justified and good faith efforts to discharge their duties to the child” (434). During the second period of the child’s life, which lasts until he or she leaves the household of his or her rearers, as well as during the third and final period of the child’s life, “serious conflict frequently develops between the claims of child-rearers on the one hand, and the interests and responsibilities of the child on the other” (436). As soon as the child “reaches intellectual and moral maturity” towards the end of the second period, he or she no longer has any duties
to his or her rearers (436). Of course, child-rearers “can hope that their child will be guided by feelings of love and affection for them. But the ties of duty no longer bind them as they once did” (436).
Because his parents are killed in a car crash, Andreas is raised by his grandmother. Andreas’s grandmother is a very kind woman who cares a lot about her grandson. She finds pleasure in fulfilling her duties to him and is rewarded for this with Andreas’s exemplary behavior and his feelings of love and affection for her. When the witches cause him harm, she immediately takes action and creates a plan to help him.
Matilda’s parents, on the other hand, fail to fulfill any of the duties they have to their daughter. They do not care at all about her physical care, education and socialization, and their relationship with her is anything but warm. As Blustein describes, they perceive raising Matilda as an overwhelming burden and have become resentful of her. This is remarkable, since Matilda is an exemplary child and very independent. Physically, she is finding herself in the first period of her life, but mentally, she is much further. Therefore, she can hardly be blamed for refusing to listen to her parents and breaking their rules. Even though she is young, she is smart enough to figure out that the rules she is supposed to abide – such as not being allowed to read books – do not make any sense.
Even though Andreas and Matilda are experiencing a very different upbringing, they have similar personalities. Both children are innocent and sweet, as well as smart and heroic. While the way they are treated by their parents affects their happiness, it does not seem to have any influence on their behavior. Dahl thus seems to indicate that children are capable of staying true to their good-hearted nature, no matter how badly they are being treated by the people who raise them. They do not necessarily follow into the footsteps of their parents, but are able to think for themselves.
Royal and Etheline Tenenbaum do not manage to fulfill all of the duties they have to their children. When Royal leaves, the relationship between him and his children deteriorates, which means that he is unable to fulfill most of his duties to them. Etheline does a better job at taking care of her children, but she does not spend as much time with them as she should. As a result, the Tenenbaum children do not seem to have developed strong feelings of love and affection for their parents. This is for example implied by the fact that they have not visited them much since leaving their household. When Royal moves back into the family home because he claims to have stomach cancer, the children feel obliged to pay him a visit. Since all family members are living under the same roof again, they are forced to reconnect and work out their issues.
The adults in Moonrise Kingdom, on the other hand, take the duties they have to their children very seriously. Especially Suzy’s parents think they know what is best for their daughter and are very much concerned with transmitting their values on her. Suzy, on the other hand, does not agree with the claims of her parents. As Blustein describes, this is common behavior for children who find themselves in the second period of their life. Suzy expresses her disagreement by running away from home. At the end of the film, she and her
parents are able to reconnect and work out their issues. Sam’s foster parents, on the other hand, are less forgiving. As Blustein describes, raising him has become an overwhelming burden and they have become resentful of him, which means they no longer feel like having any duties to him. Eventually, these duties are taken over by Sam’s Scout Master, who agrees to adopt him.
Exactly like Andreas and Matilda, the Tenenbaum children and Suzy are experiencing a very different upbringing. While Royal and Etheline do not take their duties seriously enough, Suzy’s parents take them a little too seriously. Both approaches have a negative effect on the children and cause them to disconnect from their parents. Unlike Matilda, who tries to live with the way she is being treated, the children in Anderson’s films decide to rebel against their parents. Contrary to Dahl, Anderson thus believes that children who are treated badly by the people who raise them will behave different from children who are treated right.
2.5 Conclusion
These four case studies show that Dahl and Anderson depict adults and children in a very similar way. In The Witches and Matilda, as well as in The Royal Tenenbaums and Moonrise Kingdom, children are clearly the victims of the behavior of adults. In The Witches, a group of adults is planning to kill as many children as possible, Matilda contains multiple adults that either physically or psychologically abuse children and both The Royal Tenenbaums and Moonrise Kingdom contain adults who can be considered bad parents. The children themselves are mostly innocent and sweet, as well as smart and heroic. They often outsmart the adults, for example by punishing them for their behavior of by running away from them. Both Dahl and Anderson thus seem to value children much more than adults, and convey the idea that parents are for a large part responsible for the happiness and success of their children. However, they seem to disagree about one crucial point. While Anderson believes that children who are treated badly by the people who raise them will behave different from children who are treated right, Dahl seems to suggest otherwise.
3. Dahl and Anderson: Tone
In this chapter, I will explore the tone of Dahl’s children’s novels and Anderson’s films. I will start this chapter by providing a brief definition of the concept of tone. In the paragraphs that follow, I will present a couple of case studies to show that the tones of Dahl and Anderson are very similar.
3.1 Tone
In his article “Movies and Tone,” Douglas Pye explores the concept of tone. In this paragraph, I will provide an overview of the ideas and concepts he discusses. This will help me gain insight into the tones of Dahl and Anderson, which I will examine in the following paragraphs. Even though Pye mainly focuses on film, most of his ideas can also be applied to literature.
According to Pye, the concept of tone “has had a very limited place in film theory and criticism,” even though it plays a crucial role in “enabling us to orientate ourselves to any film” (14). In twentieth century literary criticism, the concept of tone “was central to the understanding of how the words of the poem or story addressed the reader” (14). Tone implied emotion or attitude, as well as “wider issues of class location, educational level, […] intelligence, sensitivity, moral sense and so on” (14). In relation to film, tone can be linked to terms such as point of view and voice. In his article “Notes on Quirky,” in which he explores the tone of so-called “quirky” cinema, James MacDowell argues that it is not always easy to define a specific tone. We may recognize a certain tone when we see it, “but it can become rather difficult to demonstrate its boundaries or constituent parts” (2). Pye further expands on the complexity of the concept of tone:
Tone seems intuitively to belong to the “how” of any discourse, the manner in which a story is told or an experience related, yet in analysis it rapidly becomes evident that the distinction between “how” and “what” is unsustainable. The choice of subject matter and all the specific decisions taken in creating every aspect of the fictional world, its characters and events, inevitably have effects on […] tone (91-92).
Exactly like the tone of a conversation, “the tone of a film is implied by the various interrelated modes of [its] address and our response to them” (14). Contrary to literature, which can only use language to convey tone, film has the ability to use multiple means of communication (47-48). Because “tone in film is rarely a singular matter,” it can cause “complex narrative effects” (48).
As I have briefly explained in the first chapter, genre conventions create certain expectations for the spectator. The tone of a film accomplishes this as well. Opening scenes, for example, establish a certain mood or atmosphere, they “[introduce] the world of the film” and “orient the spectator to what is to follow” (49). As the film proceeds, this mood “provides a kind of guide track through the spectator’s [emotional] experience of the film” (59). Within a narrative, “all sorts of tonal variations can be achieved” (88). With more alternative films, it
may be difficult “to grasp how it is that we are being addressed and therefore to tune into a mood and tonal register” (88). Some film directors are known for a certain tone. Suspense and humor, for example, can be identified as “the tonalities that seem most deeply embedded in [the work of Hitchcock]” (124). The dynamism of tone “provides opportunities and challenges for the filmmaker in establishing and developing a relationship with the spectator, and also for the spectator in responding to the interrelationship of elements in the film” (133). The melodramatic mode of the soap opera, for example, “[pulls] the spectator between simultaneous responses of sympathy and distance, recognition and repudiation” (133). The stability of a tone “is always provisional: as a film unfolds, […] its address [can be] other than we intuited [which means] that we have to adjust our understanding of mood and tone” (133). Watching a film for the second time, then, is a completely different experience (133). In the conclusion of his article, Pye argues that tone remains an “inherently baggy and indeterminate” concept (227). He is certain, however, that mood and tone are “as much part of the total “meaning” of a film as matters that could be more readily formulated” (227).
Now that I have established a clear definition of tone, I am able to analyze the tones of Dahl and Anderson. When comparing Dahl and Anderson, one thing that is immediately noticeable is the fact that their tone is very similar. Both of them seem to have a preference for irony and dark humor. In the following paragraphs, I will further explore these tonalities, as well as discuss a couple of examples that illustrate how Dahl’s children’s novels and Anderson’s films make use of them.
3.2 Dahl’s Tone
In this paragraph, I will examine the tone of Dahl’s children’s novels, which can be best described as ironic. Generally, irony is seen as “a figure of speech which communicates the opposite of what [is] literally said” (Sperber and Wilson 53). However, in their article “On Verbal Irony,” Dan Sperber and Deirdre Wilson argue that this definition is somewhat problematic, because the concept of irony includes much more. According to them, irony also includes ironical understatements, ironical quotations, ironical interjections and non-ironical falsehoods. An ironical understatement is “not the opposite of what is meant, but merely less than what is meant” (54). An example is the comment “You can tell he is upset” as a reaction to someone being blind with rage (54). An ironical quotation is a remark that is ironically intended, as well as recognized as a quotation. An example is the comment “Oh, to be in England” on a cold, wet, windy spring day in England (55). An ironical interjection is an exclamation that is ironically intended, but does not “express a complete proposition” and therefore “cannot be true or false” (56). Sperber and Wilson illustrate this with the following example:
You have invited me to visit you in Tuscany. Tuscany in May, you write, is the most beautiful place on earth. I arrive in a freak cold spell, wind howling, rain lashing down. As you drive me home along flooded roads, I turn to you and exclaim: “Ah, Tuscany in May!” (55).
This is an ironical interjection, because there is no clear opposite of the comment “Ah, Tuscany in May!” (56). Finally, a non-ironical falsehood is a remark that intends to communicate the opposite – as in the traditional definition of irony – yet is not meant to be ironic. An example is the comment “Look, that car has all its windows intact” to draw attention to the fact that the car in question has a broken window (56). All of these examples show the complexity of defining the concept of irony. Sperber and Wilson do conclude, though, that irony “invariably involves the expression of an attitude of disapproval” (60).
Dahl absolutely expresses an attitude of disapproval in his children’s novels. Firstly, he accomplishes this by ridiculing certain characters. As I have shown in the previous chapter, the personality of his characters is usually reflected in their appearance. Characters that behave badly, are punished for it by appearing unattractive:
If a person has ugly thoughts, it begins to show on the face. And when that person has ugly thoughts every day, every week, every year, the face gets uglier and uglier until it gets so ugly you can hardly bear to look at it. A person who has good thoughts cannot ever be ugly. You can have a wonky nose and a crooked mouth and a double chin and stick-out teeth, but if you have good thoughts they will shine out of your face like sunbeams and you will always look lovely (The Twits 14-15).
For these bad characters, the story usually does not end well. In James and the Giant Peach, for example, the protagonist has to live with his two aunts, Sponge and Spiker, after his parents are killed in an accident. Aunt Sponge and Aunt Spiker are obsessed with the idea of getting rich. They refuse to properly take care of their nephew, because that would only cost them money. In the end, they get what they deserve when they are smashed by a giant peach: “The peach rolled on. And behind it, Aunt Sponge and Aunt Spiker lay ironed out upon the grass as flat and thin and lifeless as a couple of paper dolls cut out of a picture book” (64). Another example is the character of Augustus Gloop in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Augustus is an “enormously fat” boy, who is obsessed with food (37). Just like the protagonist, he has won a tour through Willy Wonka’s mysterious chocolate factory. During the tour, Augustus drinks from a river of hot, melted chocolate, even though he is told that the river must be untouched by human hands. He is immediately punished for his greediness, because he falls into the river and is eventually sucked into a great pipe that leads to the Fudge Room. His parents have to try their best to find him before he gets poured out into the fudge boiler. These bad endings are another way in which these characters are punished for their bad behavior. Dahl’s children’s novels thus contain a clear sense of morality: bad behavior never goes unpunished.
Secondly, Dahl expresses an attitude of disapproval by conveying social criticism. One of the many things he criticizes is people who are greedy or spoiled. In Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, for example, there is the character of Veruca Salt, a bratty little girl who gets everything she asks for. When she sees the squirrels in Willy Wonka’s Nut Room, she immediately wants one: “All I’ve got at home is two dogs and four cats and six bunny rabbits and two parakeets and three canaries and a green parrot and a turtle and a bowl of goldfish and a cage of white mice and a silly old hamster! I want a squirrel!” (146). Of course, she is
punished for her behavior. The squirrels decide she is a bad nut and take her down the rubbish chute. Dahl also criticizes excessive television use. In Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, for example, there is the character of Mike Teavee, a boy who is addicted to watching television. In Willy Wonka’s Television-Chocolate Room, he decides to use an impressive machine to send himself to a television screen, even though Willy Wonka tells him this is very dangerous. As a punishment, Mike ends up as a shrunken version of himself. After the incident, the Oompa-Loompas – creatures that work in the factory – sing the following song about television: “IT ROTS THE SENSES IN THE HEAD! / IT KILLS IMAGINATION DEAD! / IT CLOGS AND CLUTTERS UP THE MIND! / IT MAKES A CHILD SO DULL AND BLIND!” (181). All of these examples show that the tone of Dahl’s children’s novels is mostly ironic. Not only does Dahl disapprove of the behavior of many of his characters, they also receive an appropriate punishment in the end. Because these punishments are cruel and funny at the same time, Dahl’s stories contain a lot of dark humor.
3.3 Anderson’s Tone
In this paragraph, I will examine the tone of Anderson’s films. As I have briefly discussed in the first chapter, Anderson’s films can be classified as melancomic films, which means that they possess “a conflicted tone dealing in tensions between “irony” and “sincerity” (MacDowell, Wes Anderson… 10). These tensions exist because Anderson blurs the lines between moments in which irony causes the spectator to feel rather detached from the story, and moments that encourage the spectator to engage emotionally with the characters (18). In The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou, for example, there is a scene in which Steve and his (presumed) son Ned are in a helicopter. They talk about a correspondence between the two of them that took place years ago, when Steve did not yet know that he had a son and Ned had to admire him from afar. Suddenly, the vehicle malfunctions, causing Steve and Ned to crash into the ocean. Initially, both men seem to be alright, until Ned passes out and the water turns red with blood. In the next shot, Steve carries Ned’s body onto a beach. Because the camera is far way, the spectator is not able to see Steve’s facial expressions in this shot, and his movements also do not indicate much. Even though this is a very sad moment in the film, “altering both the film’s mood and our sense of how dangerous the world can be,” the way it is handled, with Steve’s emotions being beyond the spectator’s view, makes it less emotionally charged (16). As Kirk Boyle notes, “the film never stoops to the level of sentimentality by including Steve crying with or over Ned” (23). In this scene, Anderson thus finds a balance between detachment or distance and emotional engagement. Because of this balance, the tone of the film is not altered too much.
Another aspect that causes tonal tension is the attitude Anderson’s films have towards the success of their characters (MacDowell, Wes Anderson… 14). On the one hand, the spectator is often prompted to “view characters’ schemes and achievements as perhaps comically absurd or potentially bound for failure – and thus open to a certain amount of ridicule” (18). At the same time, however, these characters are “treated with greater or lesser
degrees of sympathy” (18). An example is Dignan’s “over-commitment to half-baked heists” in Bottle Rocket (18). According to a 75-year plan that Dignan has created for himself and his friend Anthony, he has to pull off several heists in order to be prepared to work with Mr. Henry, a landscaper and part-time criminal. Even though Dignan takes these heists very seriously and spends a lot of time preparing them, they never go as well as he expected. While the spectator is encouraged to feel sorry for Dignan every time his plans fail, the fact that he keeps forgetting essential details also has a comical effect. In the beginning of the film, for example, Dignan has created a plan to rescue Anthony from a psychiatric unit. Hiding behind a bush with a pair of binoculars, he imitates the sound of a bird to let his friend know that the coast is clear. Upon hearing this signal, Anthony grabs a rope made out of sheets and is ready to climb out of the window. Suddenly, one of his doctors enters the room and asks Anthony what he is doing. The conversation that follows indicates that Anthony’s visit to the psychiatric unit is actually voluntary. Anthony explains that Dignan did not realize this and got so excited about his rescue plan, that he did not want to disappoint him. On the one hand, this scene encourages the spectator to ridicule Dignan for his ignorance. At the same time, however, Dignan’s excitement is touching, which makes him a sympathetic character as well. Other examples include Max’s “excessive number of extracurricular activities” in Rushmore, Royal’s “machinations for tricking his way into his family’s affections” in The Royal Tenenbaums and Francis’ “suffocatingly timetabled “spiritual journey” in The Darjeeling Limited (18-19).
By using this melancomic tone, Anderson essentially combines various types of comedy:
There’s the deadpan: dry, perfunctory, taking moments that we might expect to be made melodramatic and downplaying them for comic effect. […] Yet [his films] will often also mine a comedy of embarrassment – a painful humour resulting from a character’s emotional discomfort being situated as simultaneously pathetic and poignant, and thus relying to a significant extent upon appeals to sympathy. […] Completing the cocktail of comic strategies is an intermittent use of slapstick, which will often surprise with a suddenness and borderline-surreal incongruity, bringing with it a hint of absurd (8-9).
All of these types of comedy encourage the spectator to laugh at the expense of the characters, which happens on many occasions in Anderson’s films. In Rushmore, for example, there is the character of Herman Blume, an industrialist and multimillionaire who befriends the protagonist. Despite his success, Herman is deeply unhappy. His marriage is falling apart and his twin sons are acting bad-mannered and spoiled. As the film proceeds, Herman’s depression seems to intensify. At one point, there is a scene in which he looks disheveled and drunk, and coolly announces that he is “a little bit lonely this days,” while puffing on two cigarettes simultaneously (8). Even though Herman himself is feeling miserable in this moment, the sight of him, as well as his line – which is obviously a huge understatement – has a comical effect. This example illustrates the fact that Anderson’s films contain a lot of dark humor. Therefore, they might also be classified as dark comedies. Again,
this term indicates two extremes: darkness and comedy – which is usually perceived as a light hearted genre.
3.4 Conclusion
All of the examples that I have discussed show that Dahl and Anderson have a very similar tone. In his children’s novels, Dahl clearly expresses an attitude of disapproval. Firstly, he often ridicules his characters and punishes them when they are behaving badly, either by making them appear unattractive or by giving them a bad ending – or sometimes even both. Secondly, he conveys social criticism, for example about greedy and spoiled people or excessive television use. Because of this attitude, the tone of his stories is mostly ironic. His stories also contain a lot of dark humor, since the punishments his characters get for their bad behavior are cruel and funny at the same time. Anderson’s films can be classified as melancomic, which means that their tone is both ironic and sincere, causing the spectator to feel both detached and emotionally engaged. A great influence on this tone is the attitude Anderson’s films have towards the success of their characters, who are both ridiculed and treated with sympathy. By using this melancomic tone, Anderson essentially combines various types of comedy, which all encourage the spectator to laugh at the expense of the characters. Therefore, Anderson’s films might also be classified as dark comedies. Both Dahl and Anderson thus seem to have a preference for irony and dark humor.
