The Royal Tenenbaums

Tragedy has rarely been so much fun as it is in Wes Anderson's sprawling black comedy extravaganza.

This time out, Anderson (director of cult faves Bottle Rocket and Rushmore) and co-writer Owen Wilson (who also stars) give us the epic tale of the rise and fall of a brilliant, relentlessly bizarre and fatally damaged American family.

In the beginning, Mama Hen Anjelica Huston says bye-bye to her rolling stone hubby (Gene Hackman) and singlehandedly succeeds in raising a family of egghead prodigies, all of whom also happen to be thoroughly cracked. The bizarre brood includes a deeply neurotic financial whiz (Ben Stiller) and a fragile tennis superstar (Luke Wilson) who's in love with his magnificently depressed playwright sister (Gwyneth Paltrow).

But that's only the beginning of Anderson's tale. Hackman returns to create havoc, of course, but much of the sheer joy of The Royal Tenenbaums consists of the assorted weirdo friends, lovers, archenemies and hangers-on who provide the film's virtually non-stop color, texture and eccentric verve. The cumulative effect is a sort of cross between The Magnificent Ambersons, a J.D. Salinger short story and The Addams Family.

The Royal Tenenbaums is now available as an elaborate and imaginatively produced Criterion Collection DVD that makes watching the film even more rewarding. The anamorphic widescreen picture (supervised by Anderson himself) is near reference quality, a smoothly seductive transfer presenting the movie's saturated color scheme with vivid accuracy.

The film's look is only one of the elements addressed by Anderson in a laid-back commentary track that mixes hard facts with inside jokes, asides and other amusingly bizarre tidbits. The numerous other extras rounding out this two-disc set include an unconventional and altogether fascinating 26-minute featurette by the legendary Albert Maysles, in which we get a first-hand look at what was happening on the set of the film. Then there's a series of short video interviews with all of the movie's principal actors; The Peter Bradley Show, a 14-minute spoof of the Charlie Rose Show featuring interviews with several minor players from Anderson's films; a couple of brief bits of deleted material; and, perhaps best of all, an enormous gallery that includes production stills (and even shots of the movie's wrap party), storyboards, outtakes, and detailed looks at all of the book jackets and many paintings featured in the film — including an extended examination of the controversial art of Miguel Calderon.

It all comes in a handsomely designed package complete with a booklet featuring Eric Anderson's charming Tenenbaums illustrations, and another booklet containing Kent Jones' essay on what is certainly one of the best American films of the last few years.

—Lance Goldenberg