The Darjeeling Limited

Wes Anderson could be accused of being an acquired taste. His penchant for throwing actors at scripts so off-the-wall they walk on air isn't for everyone, but somewhere on this train journey through India he finds something frequently missing from his earlier work - heart.

In films such as The Royal Tenenbaums his humour speads too thinly amongst the cast. Here, he and co-writers Jason Schwartzman and Roman Coppola keep the company small and the comedy distilled.

The plot is simple - definitely part of its charm - and concerns three very different brothers, Francis (Owen Wilson), the one-who-would-be-dad, Peter (Adrien Brody), the-one-who's-really-sad, and Jack (Schwartzman), the-one-who-might-go-mad. With their relationship already fractured, following the death of their father, they have agreed to take a train - the Darjeeling Limited of the title - across India on a spiritual journey to reconnect with one another.

Three is the magic number when it comes to sibling rivalry, giving ample opportunity for two to talk about one, although who is "it" changes from moment to moment. When Francis, physically shattered and swathed in bandages, thanks to a recent accident in a rather unfortunate case of art imitating life, announces an ulterior motive for visiting their estranged mother (Anjelica Huston) in a remote convent, things come to a head.

Much of the first section of the film is shot within the confines of a railway carriage on a real train that was genuinely travelling across the country. Being in a small space has definitely worked a kind of magic on Wilson, Brody and Schwartzman, who display the sort of comic timing borne out of being cramped together for several weeks.

Anderson's camerawork frequently uses the movement and rhythm of the train to lend a dramatic impetus to certain scenes. At the start, as Peter is pelting along the station platform, overtaking Bill Murray (in an all-too-brief cameo role), he uses slow-motion cleverly to draw the audience in to every detail of the scene, from his flapping suit to the foot steadying a suitcase - "the baggage" of his dead father - as he leaps aboard. This sense of rushing and of things slowing to a crawl is employed throughout the film.

The scripting is even more spartan than in Anderson's previous work. Jack sparks up a brief liaison with train stewardess Rita (Amara Karan, in a feature film debut that suggests she won't have to worry about working on TV series, such as The Bill, any more), which is expressed as much by gesture than words. There is also an intuititveness between the brothers, making the gaps between the grousing as engaging as the pay-off lines.

Half way through the film takes a shift to a darker, more thoughtful tone, revealing hidden depths to Anderson's filmmaking that are a welcome surprise. Despite this, however, there is a heavy handedness in places, particularly the scenes with Huston, which never quite achieve the portentousness to which they aspire. Equally, parts of the plot feel, like the train, too compartmentalised to sit comfortably with the whole and the "baggage" issue is clumsily evident from the get go.