Roald Dahl Short Stories by Wes Anderson

Wes Anderson (as we've been saying repeatedly with every new film of his) has a child-like glee and sensibility to his film-making. They are informed by, suggest, and embrace the point-of-view of a child, his films frequently featuring children, reflecting nostalgia for pop-culture touchstones be they arcane film-making techniques like stop-motion animation, or technologies like 45 record-players, or memories like TV specials that actually were special. More and more his movies take place in carefully constructed stages that act like complicated play-sets, cantilevering and hoisting and changing backgrounds like a grade-school auditorium stage that has practiced Union stage-hands. Or the invisible hands of a child re-arranging a doll-house.

That he should turn his attention to the short stories of Roald Dahl isn't so surprising—he'd already adapted Fantastic Mr. Fox in stop-motion animation. And Dahl's adult sense of what children like fits comfortably in his director's chair—funny, frightening, surrealistic, but an eye that wanders towards and reveres goodness, even in the face of challenges. An embracing of the wonder of it all. A raised eyebrow at the foibles of his characters, a wisdom that encompasses but that can also be disappointed. The slight touch of cynicism that reassures children they're not being bull-shitted.

So, I was looking forward to "The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar" that he was adapting for Netflix.* But when it dropped, imagine my delight that he included three other stories, all with the mechanical precision of place, a child's sense of play, and a complete disdain for the fourth wall. Filmed in studio, they follow the same tack as his set transitions in The French Dispatch and Asteroid City, where the actors stay stagnant while the surroundings change around them. All of the actors read the text/perform the text as if they were narrating their own story with asides, glanced at notes of action, and acknowledgment of the audience in the telling of the tale. He'd done this for brief swatches of other films, but here, it is the film. In their brio and multi-media stage-craft, they have the same delightful effect as Orson Welles' presentation "for the tube" for Desilu Studios called The Fountain of Youth.

As one can see from the video above, Welles did very little that was cinematic or had any depth of field, but made his story for the square TV tube of low resolution, fitting the presentation to the strengths—and weaknesses—of the medium. Anderson does the same thing, making his short stories for a medium that can be either a computer screen or (god forbid!) a phone app. Of course, one could miss little details—like Benedict Cumberbatch twitching his mouth in "Poison" or that a "Missing" poster in "The Rat Catcher" has a drawing of Owen Wilson—but, seeing it on a larger monitor than an Android does yield benefits.

 

The cast is limited in number: Benedict Cumberbatch, Ralph Fiennes, Ben Kingsley, Dev Patel, Richard Ayoade, and Rupert Friend (who take roles in more than one of the stories and, as in "The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar," more than one role in the piece) as well as a clutch of extras and "stagehands" who fill out the illusion and dispense with unnecessary "business," respectively. 

Here are the stories:

The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar The longest of the shorts—at 29 minutes—it's a nesting doll of stories. A writer (Dahl, from the look of things, played by Fiennes) tells the tale of Henry Sugar (Cumberbatch) of whom the writer says “Men like Henry Sugar are to be found drifting like seaweed all over the world. They can be seen especially in London, New York, Paris, Nassau, Montego Bay, Cannes, and San Tropez. They are not particularly bad men, but they are not good men either. They are of no particular importance; they’re simply part of the decoration.” 

 

Sugar is a gambler of no great success until he comes across a slim volume in the library of an acquaintance. The title is "A Report on Imdad Khan: The Man Who Can See Without His Eyes by Z.Z. Chatterjee, December, 1935, Calcutta." Reading it, he discovers a strange story, a case study by a doctor (Patel) who met a man with a singular talent—with his eyes completely covered, this Imdad Khan (Kingsley) is able to discern objects quite clearly, navigating without aid of sight, either by foot or by bicycle, in his act he can thread a needle while his head is covered by a large metal drum. After the act, the doctor, Chatterjee asks Khan how he acquired such skills and the old man tells him his story.

Khan tells the story of how, at the age of 17, he encountered a yogi who could, during his concentrations, levitate in the air by a foot/foot-and-a-half. The yogi, miffed that his private hut has been found, and regretting it, teaches the young Khan his secret, a gradual practice of concentration that allowed the mind to focus
on a single thought until he was able to perceive with more than just his senses. After decades of practicing, Khan realizes that he can read cards from the back, navigate without the use of his eyes, read maps and even whole books in this method. "Well, well, well" says Henry as he reads the account. He has focused on only one aspect of the tale: the man had become able to read cards.

Henry rushes back to his London flat with one purpose on his mind—to use Imrad Khan's methods until he is able to read the backs of cards. He never leaves the flat—except for food and drink—and after 3 years, 3 months he is able to realize his goal to his satisfaction, which is to be able to read the back of a card within 5 seconds flat. Once he does that, he heads to the casino.

Once there, Sugar buys £10,000 worth of chips and goes to the blackjack table. When he is dealt a 19, Sugar flabbergasts the dealer by drawing on his cards. You don't draw on 19. You stick. Only eight cards of the standard 52 can be dealt which will not "bust" your hand—aces and twos. But, Sugar draws anyway—knowing what card will be next in the dealer's shoe—and receives a 2. He has 21. Although he has won, he's done so in such a way as to attract attention and he must change his strategy and his way of thinking.

 

How does it end? That would be telling.

 

But, the journey is thrilling. It's not done "in real time"—in one single delirious take—but it sure feels like it as it zips along from one happenstance to another. The pressure is really on the actors to get it precisely right while also keeping a pace about 50% faster than "reading along." At this, Cumberbatch (very much Cumberbatch!), Kingsley and Patel are quite adept, and it is only a few minutes after it is over that one considers the amount of time it must have taken to rehearse the damn thing! All of the shorts are like that—fast, breezy, precise—and it is only after the things are over that one starts to think about what they've just seen.

The Swan "Some people," says the writer (Fiennes, again) "when they have taken too much and have been driven beyond the point of endurance, simply crumble and collapse and give up. Others however, though they are not many, who will for some reason always be unconquerable. You meet them in time of war and also in time of peace. They have an indomitable spirit. And nothing, neither pain, nor torture, nor threat of death will cause them to give up. Little Peter Watson was one of these."

 

Little Peter Watson is played by two actors (three actually, if you count the animated one): Asa Jennings (standing mute and play-acting) and Rupert Friend, who plays the older Peter recounting the tale and recreating (quite deftly) the voices of all the dramatis personnae: they are Peter, an avid bird-watcher and Ernie and Raymond, "dangerous, crazy, stupid boys," in possession of a rifle, given to Ernie on his birthday. The bullies proceed to shoot birds with their firearm and then turn their attention to a woodpecker that young Peter is spying at through binoculars, and, once the woodpecker has flown away due to their loud voices, they begin to threaten young Peter.

None of their dastardly behavior towards the boy—including tying him to a railroad track—is depicted at the boy, which would have been unsettling, but by Friend, who, by playing the older Peter assures us that he will survive, but also gives us the boy's inner thoughts which are resolute and determined. It's a story of the principled against the thuggish and provides a touch of surrealism that is a substitute for hope.

Poison This one has been filmed twice before: as an episode of "Roald Dahl's Tales of the Unexpected" and as an episode of the original "Alfred Hitchcock Presents" directed by The Master himself. Anderson switches from Academy ratio box format to widescreen—the better to photograph the prone Cumberbatch who plays Harry Pope, an unfortunate man who is having an unfortunate night not getting to sleep. He is found by his associate Woods (Patel) prone in bed and speaking in a panicked whisper. When Woods creeps—at Pope's urgent instruction—to Pope's bed, the scared, sweating man informs him that a krait has slithered into his bed and is sleeping on his stomach. He's been laying there for hours daring not to move lest the deadly snake bite him and he'll be dead in seconds. Through clenched teeth, Harry implores his associate to get a doctor and Woods calls up Dr. Ganderbai (Kingsley) in the middle of the night to come to the bungalow to try to help his friend before it can become too late.

Woods and Ganderbai discuss what they can possibly do to help poor Harry. They dare not move him, the bed, the sheet covering him or anything to get to the snake. All they can do is give Harry the anti-venom first in the hope that if he DOES get bit he might survive, but the chances of that are about 50%. Together they devise a risky way to extricate the krait from Harry's body before it can attack him.

Two things of note: if you take a look at the bit of Hitchcock's version below, you'll see that there's a sub-text—in the adaptation by Casey Robinson—that Harry is a lush, and that Woods is a bit of a sadist, something that Anderson leaves out. This version does leave in Harry's innate racism. The pace of the thing is like the others—very quick and very precise—but Anderson puts in a few stretches of silence and held shots to ramp up the tension.

Here's a bit of Hitchcock's version from Season 4 (Episode 1) of "Alfred Hitchcock Presents"

 

The Rat Catcher A "rodent operative" (Fiennes) is called when the Cubbage petrol station starts noticing a problem with the vermin. The station owner, Claud (Friend) answers the "rat-man's" questions, all of which are noted by the editor (Ayoade) of the local "News of the Day," which is located next door to the station (and presumably has the same problem).

 

It is obvious that the rat-man knows his profession, has much history with it,  and, in particular, knows rats...and very well. He takes great pride in his work, dismissing any amateur speculation, respect for his nemeses and for their ways and habits. He is like a military general analyzing the maneuvers of an enemy combatant. "You got to be clever on this job, cleverer than a rat and that's sayin' sumfin'" he says, through the two oversized upper teeth in the front of his mouth. If the old saying about what you become when you hunt dragons, is true, the rat-man has almost become what he has spent years hunting.

"You gotta know rats on this job"

But, the rat-man's fool-proof method of disposing of rats doesn't yield any positive (or one should say deadly) results. There are no rat bodies to dispose of and the rat-man is despondent. More than that, his pride is hurt and to puff it up again, he digs a little deeper into rat-lore and his history with rats until he takes it a bit too far...a move that turns the townspeople against him, let alone that he hasn't solved the rat-problem.

"The Rat Catcher" is mischievous, creepy, and just a little...no it's a lot twisted...with a lovely little performance by Fiennes, and some of the stop-motion animation that Anderson has employed in other movies thrown in for ratty measure. And like all of the shorts in this collection, Anderson ends it with a little Dahl factoid that gives context.

They're all lovely. And I think Dahl would have been proud.

 

 * It turns out Anderson wasn't entirely happy with the prospect, but when he was approached, the properties had already been sold to Netflix by the Dahl Estate.