The Royal Tenenbaums (2001)
There is a very specific, almost hypnotic rhythm to a Wes Anderson picture. Whether you're watching The Grand Budapest Hotel or Fantastic Mr. Fox, you get this peculiar sensation that absolutely nothing is happening, even while the screen is bursting with meticulously choreographed activity. Characters drift through immaculately composed frames, deadpan dialogue is delivered with surgical precision, and yet somehow the whole thing locks you in place. You sit there, mildly hypnotised, not entirely sure why you can't look away.
Watching The Royal Tenenbaums recently, I was struck by this exact phenomenon all over again. It moves at its own deliberate, idiosyncratic pace, creating a strange, dreamlike inertia that somehow manages to keep you entirely glued to the screen. It shouldn't work. On paper, it sounds exhausting. In practice, it's quietly, stubbornly wonderful.
The entire enterprise rests on the shoulders of its eccentric ensemble, and Anderson is remarkably adept at making you feel intimately acquainted with people you've only just met. Within the first twenty minutes of rapid-fire, deadpan exposition, the Tenenbaum clan feels like your own deeply dysfunctional, slightly tragic relatives. The kind of family you'd never choose but couldn't imagine being without. Gene Hackman's scheming patriarch is an absolute revelation, charming and selfish and oddly moving all at once, and Gwyneth Paltrow's enigmatic Margot is brilliantly realised, all kohl-rimmed eyes and carefully guarded secrets. These two alone would be enough to anchor most films.
But here's where I'll be honest about my mixed feelings. The sheer volume of characters is a double-edged sword. When you pack this many distinct, highly stylised personalities into a single narrative, a few are inevitably going to get short-changed. I found Ben Stiller's tightly wound Chas and Luke Wilson's melancholic Richie occasionally felt underdeveloped, which is a shame, because whenever the film slows down long enough to let them breathe, there's something genuinely affecting there. It's not that Anderson doesn't care about them. More that he's juggling too many balls, and some get dropped.
Then there's the music. The soundtrack is absolutely cracking, weaving a nostalgic, folk-rock thread through the whole picture that carries the narrative forward with effortless grace. It acts as the emotional glue for a story that could easily fracture under the weight of its own quirks and melancholic tangents. Listening to it, you feel the ache of time passing, of potential squandered and old wounds that never quite healed. That's no small trick.
And yet, for all these moving parts, the sharp dialogue, the pastel colour palettes, the mournful score, I must admit I struggle to pinpoint exactly why the film works as well as it does. Its success feels almost alchemical, defying easy critical dissection. I keep turning it over in my head and I can't quite crack it open. I know what I feel watching it. I just can't always explain the precise mechanics of how it gets me there.
Maybe that's the point. Maybe that's even the mark of something genuinely good. The Royal Tenenbaums is a wonderfully off-kilter, deeply affecting piece of work that captures the messy, enduring bonds of family with a bittersweet charm that's entirely its own. It's not perfectly balanced, and its deliberate pacing certainly won't be for everyone. Some nights you want a film that grabs you by the collar. This one just sits down beside you and waits for you to lean in.
But I did lean in. Every time. And that counts for a lot.
Three and a half stars.
Rating: ★★★½ | Year: 2001 | Watched: 2026-08-03
Where to watch
Watch in the UK
Stream: Disney Plus
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Physical: Amazon UK · Zavvi
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