The Darjeeling Limited

Wes Anderson’s back catalogue is both impressive and a fraction weird, which, in this time of indentikit dross, is a splendid combo. Rushmore was interesting, The Royal Tenenbaums was striking and The Life Aquatic With Steve Zizzou was gorgeous but conceptually a bit too strange for my rigid imagination. Happily, The Darjeeling Limited, Anderson’s latest offering, is the best so far – by far.

Set in a somewhat romanticised north of India, the film sees three unlikely brothers taking a journey in search of spiritual contentment following the death of their father. All three of the leads perform exceptionally well but Owen Wilson deserves particular praise for his unapologetic personification of a manic control freak while Adrien Brody’s wonderful face deserves an Oscar in its own right. Natalie Portman’s cameo is predictably breath-taking and the use of Peter Sarstedt’s classic ballad is superb; the only slightly jarring moment was the otherwise enviable script’s final line which descended into unexpected Joey-and-Chandler-esque schmaltz.

Visually arresting, extremely funny and awash with men who are wonky but mouth-watering: what’s not to like? I haven’t enjoyed a film this much for aeons and recommend it with the proviso that you replicate my low expectations on arrival.