I loved Wes Anderson's Rushmore. I've seen the film many times, and every time I watch it, it seems to get better.
I liked Wes Anderson's The Royal Tenenbaums. I've seen it twice, and it got a little better the second time.
I didn't really like Wes Anderson's The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou. I've seen it once, and I don't think I'll see it again.
I thought my declining interest in Wes Anderson was my fault. But three new articles claim it may be his fault. Or maybe even Owen Wilson's fault.
This article is about Anderson and other artists who are too sensitive to live, Anderson included. The author mentions one of my pet peeves about the younger, alternative artist's penchant for "the endless running of fingertips over Stuff I Really Really Like." This reached its zenith in Stephen Malkmus's song "Jenny and the Ess-Dog," in which he describes (and and seems to ridicule) people based simply on the things they own. It is a shorthand method of characterization--lazy, superficial and shallow. (P.S. I like Malkmus a lot, but this song pisses me off.)
This article is about how "hip" Anderson is, and how the world he creates in his films exhibits the desire never to grow up.
This article is about how, possibly, Owen Wilson was responsible for Anderson's early screenwriting success.