The Darjeeling Limited

The story centers on the three disaffected Whitman brothers, Francis (Owen Wilson), Peter (Adrien Brody) and Jack (Jason Schwartzman), who seek to reacquaint themselves on the train trip. All of them are emotionally stunted, still reeling from the death of their father and the absence of their mother. Francis has just survived a near-death motorcycle accident that threw him face-?rst into a hillside, and for the duration of the ?lm, Wilson delivers his lines through a thick swath of gauze and Ace bandages. Regretting that he’s not closer to his brethren, he plans a train trip through the country, down to the very last detail, so as to bond.

But his brothers have their own reasons to get out of the country. Jack, the youngest, is trying to put some distance between himself and his ex, even though he remains obsessed enough to eavesdrop on her answering machine messages. Peter seems to have it all together, married with a child on the way, yet he neglects to mention to his wife that he’s going to India and fears the imminent responsibilities of fatherhood. Cramped together in a tight sleeper car, they begin in?aming old grudges almost immediately, all the while dealing with their pain the only way they know how, from micro-managing every last second of the day to wantonly abusing pharmaceuticals.

Even as the Whitmans hit their pre-ordained destinations, visit holy sites and wave around peacock feathers, they remain spiritually clueless. After a string of comedic mishaps, the brothers ?nd themselves jettisoned from the Darjeeling Limited train, stranded in the stark Indian countryside (its expanse captured warmly by longtime Anderson DP, Robert Yeoman) with their dead father’s custom-made suitcases, a laminating machine and little else. Derailed and woefully off-schedule, both Anderson and the brothers soon stumble upon the movie’s emotional core.

Whereas previous Anderson ?lms tend to rely on characters plainly (and unbelievably) speaking their emotional state outright, Darjeeling’s ensemble cast plays it closer to the vest. The film’s most evocative scenes involve small glances, gestures and wordless exchanges between the three men, and at the movie’s culminating encounter, the suggestion is made: “Maybe we could express ourselves more fully without words.”

They do. But soon after, Anderson reverts back to old habits. Despite the appearance of Anjelica Huston as the brothers’ absentee runaway mother and newcomer Amara Karan as a doe-eyed dalliance of Jack’s on the moving train, Anderson seems wholly unable to reveal any depth in his female characters. Perhaps resigned to that fact, he keeps both women at the absolute periphery, focusing instead on the brothers’ search for redemption.

For most of the ?lm, Anderson relies on low-key soundtrack music by the likes of Ravi Shankar and Satyajit Ray (gleaned from Bollywood ?lms like Bombay Talkie and Jalsaghar) to properly capture the ?avor of this awe-inspiring, complex country. When it’s time to yank heartstrings though, he starts cranking up stand-bys from the Kinks and the Stones and reducing his images to half-speed, so that it seems more like a music video than a movie. Falling back on such clichés, the emotional catharsis of the Whitman brothers nevertheless remains hard-fought. As they realize at ?lm’s end that the wounds of the past aren’t yet healed, such a ?nal destination—while far from perfect—feels that much more welcome.