The Library; The Darjeeling Limited
The local library was rebuilt. It took about two years. Probably something to do with codes. It looks pretty much the same. In fact, frustratingly so, because it still is airless, with an oppressive heat embedded in the new building — an inheritance from the old. Apparently no one said anything to the powers that be, although the librarian’s themselves seem sensitive to the heat, which makes you want to nod off or get out the minute you walk in.
In addition, there was a change in layout which speaks to the time. The stacks were further deprecated; a remant of books on shelves like marginalized visitors, while there are numerous tables for laptops, covering most of the floor space, and a large area devoted solely to children — not so much books as children’s activities, and a reserved book and media section, for pickup.
No more wandering the stacks and picking up books you would not have known existed. Now it is more likely to be media you accidentally come upon, like The Darjeeling Limited, which we borrowed,. Like much in the society, gimmicks and trendiness and multi-media status have replaced content. The House of Books has become a laptop cafeteria sans food with an attached pre-school center and a pick-up point for material reserved on the net.
≡≡≡≡≡≡
The Darjeeling Limited is one of those works that requires you to adjust to its long loping rhythms and quaint perspective before you can enjoy it. It is about three brothers traveling through India as they search for connections. Connections between themselves and their long estranged mother.
Owen Wilson grew up with and is friends with Wes Anderson. Both have the same flattened quality in work and manner — you can see them thinking — they aren’t, blessedly, in a rush. The trust in the audience in this approach is almost touching. Owen and Wes are from another time. It is a welcome change from the quick cut, bang bang chase and destroy movies.
The movie would be maudlin but for Anderson’s ability to be realistic about the intractable nature of human beings; yet, Anderson isn’t afraid of charges of sentimentality — he allows for the possibility of growth. With the gorgeous, unsentimentalized poverty of India as a background, and a slew of characters that break with stereotype, there is much to like about this movie. A great soundtrack, from Ravi Shankar to the Stones, to The Kinks.
