By Callum Rand

You should note that the author recommends reading this short narrative in a sort of melancholic tone. Should you opt to disregard the aforementioned suggestion, you should note that as you clearly know best, the author is sure that you will be more than capable of engaging in some much-needed introspection as to the reasoning behind your witless arrogance.

The rally was fascinating to watch, a sea of beige punctuated by the occasional cresting “*#@! Trudeau” flag. It was an otherwise normal weekend on Bloor. The mass of people flooded onto Bloor at the point where the buildings begin to jut out of the street like windswept rocks. They filled the space like an ocean of misguided political unrest, occasionally stirred by the waves of profanity and bigotry. I wasn’t used to seeing this sort of thing in Canada, let alone adjacent to a store that sells ethically made soaps (excellent ethically made soaps). The crowd of unruly protesters intermingled with the swell of people that are known to purchase those soaps. I would never have expected such a seamless interaction between two groups of people who oppose everything that the other stands for. I say seamless.

“Ululate” was always a funny word to me. I’m sure there are individuals to whom the word carries some meaning . . . I am not one of them. It was never more than a funny word to me, never more than something the evil henchmen do in an Indiana Jones movie. Now, I don’t know whether it was a practical joke by some passing university student or a legitimate impassioned cry; all I know is that it was followed by a brief but unforgettable silence.

Fear is powerful, true fear is intoxicating, and the fear of 300-odd pseudo-skinheads is pungent. For a few seconds, no more, you could have seen the tension; it was tangible and solid. It was bewildered looks and tensed shoulders as far as the eye could see. Whether this fear was a primal “deer in headlights” reaction or some profound realization by the group that what they should fear was not the soap people and their opinions vis-a-vis water turning their precious frogs gay, but the possible consequences of their own actions. I couldn’t say. Before long, the chants resumed, the flags began to wave, and the crowd continued to sway about in the same directionless yet utterly dogged manner in which they had been going about their business.

I was faced with a crossroads: Do I continue my long-forgotten original quest to find some lunch, or do I follow the rally? Do I try to learn something more about humanity? Do I try to better understand these people who I, for better or worse, share a community with, do I try to discover different perspectives and grow as a human being?

The burger was meh.

After the admittedly somewhat lacklustre amalgamation of griddle-smashed chuck, I returned home. Being the responsible individual I am, I had completed all of my assigned work and decided to sit down and enjoy a film (in my mind one life’s greatest simple pleasures). Having been a fan of the work of Wes Anderson for many years, I had naturally heard tell of the supposed poor quality of his film The Darjeeling Limited, but decided to give Anderson the benefit of the doubt, after all, this is the man who directed Rushmore and The Grand Budapest Hotel.

Upon finishing the movie, I came to a realization, the general public does not appreciate The Darjeeling Limited. With its stunning cinematography, quirky characters, and poignant exploration of family dynamics, The Darjeeling Limited is a remarkable film whose sustained lyric melancholy would leave a lasting impression on any viewer with two ears, two eyes and a heart that can feel. Yet, for some reason that I simply cannot fathom, for reasons that I simply don’t want to consider, for reasons that, to this day escape me, critics and the viewing public decided to come together for the sole purpose of protesting against the man who made it. Those of you who watched this film and appreciated it will feel my pain and understand the sense of despair that fills me every time I think of just how wrong the public is capable of being. For those of you who watched it and did not appreciate it for one reason or another, sit down and go back to the Cocomelon-filled hellscape from which you crawled because it’s past your bedtime, you crass, petulant child.

Is it Wes Anderson’s best work? Perhaps not. Did it deserve best picture? A nomination would have been nice, but probably not. Does it deserve to sit at 67% on Rotten Tomatoes? Absolutely not. Amy Nicholson is quoted in her review of the film as saying that it was “like a snow globe: it’s hermetically sealed, precious, and pointless.” First of all, who let this imbecile into a movie theatre, let alone the jury board of the Sundance Film Festival? Second, if someone whose job it is to review films can’t understand or appreciate that Wes was trying to both juxtapose the sheltered nature of wealthy Western society with the extreme poverty and suffering that is experienced by so much of the world while at the same time reminding us that on some deep, primal level we are all still human, then we have a problem.

I again find myself lamenting the general public’s inability to appreciate the genius of Wes Anderson’s The Darjeeling Limited. This film, which explores the complexities of family dynamics and human connection, is a true masterpiece that deserves much more recognition than it has received. It is a shame that some critics and viewers have dismissed this film as pretentious or pointless. But let me ask you this, dear reader: what is wrong with a film being sheltered or precious? Shouldn’t we not only celebrate the artistry and craftsmanship that goes into creating a film that is both visually stunning and emotionally resonant but also understand that the point of the goddamn film was to be hermetically sealed. What did you expect when you saw that Wes was going to bring his signature DOLLHOUSE style to a film about India? The vast majority of the film is literally set in a sealed compartment.

Wes Anderson is a master of his craft, and The Darjeeling Limited is no exception. From the exquisite cinematography to the quirky characters and witty dialogue, every detail of this film is carefully crafted to create a deeply affecting viewing experience. And yet, for some reason, it seems that many people have missed the point entirely. Perhaps part of the problem is that Anderson’s style is not for everyone. His films are quirky, offbeat, and often highly stylized, which can be off-putting to some viewers. But to those of us who appreciate his unique vision and creative approach to storytelling, The Darjeeling Limited is a true high-carat count, briolette cut gem. It is a film that explores the complex nature of human relationships and the ways in which we are all interconnected, whether we realize it or not. It is a film that celebrates the beauty of life, even in the face of tragedy and loss. And it is a film that reminds us that no matter where we come from or what our background may be, we all share the same human qualities. So, to those who have dismissed The Darjeeling Limited as pointless or self-indulgent, I say this: take another look. Try to see beyond the quirky characters and stylized visuals, and you may just discover a deeply moving and thought-provoking film that speaks to the universal human experience. If there are still those out there who hold on to their irrational convictions, despite this thoughtful and restrained diatribe, I unequivocally believe that you do not deserve the things you love, the freedoms afforded to you fellow members of society and most importantly, the piece of art that is The Darjeeling Limited.

To you, Wes Anderson, you shining star, you wonderful soul, I say this: thank you for your beautiful, quirky, and endlessly fascinating films. You are a true original, and your work will continue to inspire and delight audiences for generations to come.