Yet again, Wes Anderson suggests that I am actually a man.

At least emotionally.

Admittedly, I’ve been a little out of the loop lately in terms of what’s going on in contemporary culture. Many of you have probably already seen Anderson’s latest, Hotel Chevalier, a thirteen-minute short starring Jason Schwartzman and Natalie Portman that is meant to preface his recently released full-length feature Darjeeling Limited. Though Hotel Chevalier was sitting idle in my iTunes since Tuesday, I only got around to watching it yesterday. The two declaratives that have congealed in my mind since then are:

a) I liked it.
b) Even though I’ve watched it five or so times in the past twelve hours, I am still confused (and no, not about plot).

Perhaps I’m sticking a little too closely to gender stereotypes here, but how is Anderson so good at developing believable male protagonists with such distinctly effeminate emotional landscapes? Anderson’s films unfailingly send their male characters through the difficult pursuit of a romantic interest. His men are lovestruck, heartsick, and sentimental - a treacherous combination of emotional attributes that leaves them flippant, depressed and just generally socially off-kilter. (Hmm, does this sound like anyone you might know?) This, for me, raises a number of confusing and complicated questions:

- Why do I feel like I can relate more to Anderson’s male characters than almost any female character I’ve encountered in film or literature?
- Is Anderson’s portrayal of the male emotional landscape an accurate one, or more pointedly, do men like this actually exist outside of Anderson’s mind?
- If so, might I actually be an overly-sentimental, moody and pathetic fifteen-year-old boy?
- And, if I were to hypothetically find one of these men, and if, hypothetically, we fell in love, would the earth’s core implode?

I couldn’t even begin to think about knowing how to answer these questions.

With the character of Jack (Jason Schwartzman) in Hotel Chevalier, Anderson seems to have melded two of his earlier characters - the doleful and lovelorn Richie Tenenbaum with the flippant and endearingly juvenile Max Fischer. Here are some exemplary bits of dialogue:

RUSHMORE:

Rosemary: What is wrong with you?
Max: What is wrong with you?! You hurt my feelings! This night was important to me!
Rosemary: How did I hurt your feelings?
Max: Oh my GOD! I wrote a hit play! (pauses) And I’m in love with you.

THE ROYAL TENENBAUMS:

Richie: I have to tell you something…
Margot: What is it?
Richie: I love you.
Margot: I love you, too.
Richie: I can’t stop thinking about you. I went away for a year and it only got worse. I don’t know what to do.
Margot: Let’s lie down for a minute.

HOTEL CHEVALIER (sorry, couldn’t get the video online):

Ex-girlfriend: Whatever happens in the end, I don’t wanna lose you as my friend.
Jack: I promise, I will never be your friend. No matter what. Ever.

Why does this make so much sense?

But aside from obsessing about this, I’ve been rereading The Collected Stories of Amy Hempel, an act inspired by her interview in the latest issue of The Believer. I have acquired a pair of neon-purple jeans and after getting bunches of positive feedback about putting music on the blog, I’m also working on “Rachel’s BlogMixTape v 2.0,” which will be chock-full of new and exciting stuff, so stay tuned . . .