Rushmore

Rushmore is a beautiful film, like most Wes Anderson movies. It has this aesthetic, artistic look where you don’t just watch the actions or dialogue—you feel the emotion. The way the school looks, the fallen leaves in the school campound, the colors blending together—it’s all so beautiful. The film has a certain spirit to it. You might not notice it at first, but when you really look, everything feels like it’s perfectly captured in this little moment. It’s an adventure about everything and nothing, all at the same time. I like how everyone in the movie has this childlike quality. They’re not just adults weighed down by life—they feel more open. Take Mr. Blume, for example. For a wealthy man, he doesn’t seem typical. He has these almost childlike qualities, like the way he hides behind trees or runs off mid-conversation. But there’s also a deep sadness within him. You can tell he’s happiest when he’s with Max. Max is younger, and I think Mr. Blume envies that. He looks at his sons and doesn’t see that same childlike spark. It’s like they’re not aware of their youth or the fact that they’ll never get this time again. Max, on the other hand, is young but also kind of adult-like. He knows he’s young and takes full advantage of it. That’s something I think Mr. Blume admires—and maybe even misses in himself. There’s something funny about Max, too. He has this way about him that’s hard to put into words, but it makes him so unique. He’s not like other people; he doesn’t fit into societal norms or follow the rules, and I like that about him. It was an interesting film. I still don’t fully get all the themes, but I know I enjoyed it.