With Bottle Rocket, Rushmore and now The Royal Tenenbaums, Wes Anderson has emerged as the most talented, literate and visually quirky American director to come along since Steven Soderbergh burst on the scene with Sex, Lies, and Videotape. Anderson's latest intimate epic-a chronicle of the talented, literate and visually quirky Tenenbaum family-brings together an affecting blend of comedy and deep melancholy that I cannot recall having seen on the big screen before.

Through a fast-paced, blink-and-you-miss-something opening montage that is as sorrow-laden as it is funny, we are introduced to this family of "fallen geniuses" who've just undergone "two decade of failure and disaster." Patriarch Royal (Gene Hackman), neither the most faithful of husbands nor the best of fathers (he dismisses little daughter Margot's first play thusly: "It's just a bunch of little kids dressed up in animal costumes..."), was tossed from the family home by wife Etheline (Anjelica Huston) long ago. Son Chas (Ben Stiller) was a 14-year-old financial genius who has become an uptight, raging widower and vastly overprotective father to his two sons.

Other son Richie (Luke Wilson)-the favourite-was a tennis phenom who became the best there was, until an on-court meltdown at the peak of his career caused him to give up tennis and travel the world seeking answers. And lovely daughter Margot (Gwyneth Paltrow)-the playwright-was hugely successful early on with three hit plays while she was still in her 20s. She hasn't written for years and her marriage to hirsute researcher Raleigh St. Clair (Bill Murray) has fizzled to the point that she's having an affair with childhood friend Eli (Owen Wilson), a writer who has just scored a big success.

All of them are cruising along in their dysfunctional way, marking time until the next mundane tragedy befalls them when Royal, now broke, decides to pretend he's dying in order to worm his way back into the bosom of his family.

If all of this puts you in mind of another fictional New York family full of child geniuses-namely Seymour, Franny, Zooey and the rest of J.D. Salinger's Glass family-it is not through coincidence. Anderson has mentioned the Salinger books as an inspiration, along with Welles' The Magnificent Ambersons and the music of the Velvet Underground (Nico sings a couple of songs on the soundtrack). The miracle is that he brings these completely incompatible influences together, situates everything in a slightly surreal New York that feels like the 50s, the 70s and the 90s all at the same time and makes everything work.

While the film is never less than funny, it also manages to produce many beautifully realized emotional epiphanies-Richie and Margot listening to an old Rolling Stones' record together and coming to a quiet understanding about their love for each other; Chas' moment of self-awareness about his still-burning grief for his late wife; the romance that blossoms between Etheline and her accountant Henry (Danny Glover).

All of these, and more, come across as true things, real moments, and as such carry an emotional depth that will make you nod your head in recognition. Add to that a "literary" storytelling style-chapter headings, an omniscient narrator-that is perfect for the material, and a soundtrack that features obscure gems from the likes of the Stones ("She Smiles Sweetly"), Dylan (the elegiac "Wig Wam" from the "Self Portrait" album), The Clash ("Police and Thieves") Nick Drake and the aforementioned Velvet Underground, and you've got one of the films of the year.