Wes Anderson, iconic and unique among directors today, is not known for being explicit with emotion in his movies. The dialogue is often understated and deadpan; the acting can feel overly strict or confined, and the effect can come off as too rigid - but this is deliberate, and has a purpose.

Anderson himself grew up in a wealthier family, and the practice of putting up a wall of social routines between people in life, especially in certain cultural circles, is something he reflects upon, often with his films. So, when these movies do get emotional, it hits especially hard because of that contrast - like the way that light appears brighter when in a very dark room.

Though Anderson has been accused of a lack of emotion in his movies at all, this is simply not the case. His touch is soft and subtle; with such scenes - there are rarely any signs of tears, powerful music, or exuberant displays of emotions. Most of his characters hide how they feel behind rigid, artificial exteriors, masking their feelings with the familiar customs and social norms they surround themselves with.

Anderson’s emotional scenes hit in a quiet, but unmistakable way that often leaves fans not just emotionally wrecked, but psychologically reflective and deeply moved. The powerful moments he has created in his extensive career linger in the mind long after they are watched, and his movies are some of the most rich and rewarding to re-watch because of this. We pick up on more little things each time, as the beauty and tragedy of the human experience unfolds before us.

So nuanced and understated as they may be, what are the most emotional moments in Wes Anderson’s movies?

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5 “Don’t let go.” - Moonrise Kingdom (2012)

     Focus Features

Moonrise Kingdom is an epic and beautiful story of young love, which culminates in a foreshadowed storm of the century that strikes a tiny New England island. This movie is one of Anderson’s most ambitious, and is thoroughly praised, coming in as his highest-rated film on Rotten Tomatoes. The sweeping and mighty classical music, combined with the rebellious and heart-warming love story between Sam and Suzy, make it an unforgettable experience.

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A powerful storm has been alluded to and predicted throughout the movie. Haunting, orchestral music begins to build along with the beginning of the torrential gale, as Sam and Suzy struggle to escape the adults pursuing them. The climax of the events happens at the same time as the apex of the storm, when both kids climb out onto the roof of a church, desperately trying to escape. The police captain of the island, played by Bruce Willis, follows them out as they climb up to the bell tower. They hold hands and prepare to jump into a raging flood, unsure if they will survive, while Willis ties a rope around his waist and climbs after them. Just as they are about to jump, Willis appears, and offers to let Sam stay in foster care with him personally. Sam looks at Suzy, who nods in approval, and he accepts Willis’ hand.

This powerful moment is heartbreaking because of how much young Sam has been through. Kicked out of his most recent foster home, he is looking at a future in a cruel penitentiary for unruly boys, and he is desperate to avoid that horrible fate. Angry at the world and internally heartbroken, he has no one who seems to care about him except Suzy. When he finally takes Willis’ hand, some of that anger relents, and he’s once again just a boy who wants to be accepted by someone, and taken care of.

And then lightning strikes the bell tower, destroying it. Shown in silhouette, Willis hangs from the rope around his waist, holding onto Sam’s hand, who in turn holds Suzy’s hand. “Don’t let go,” Willis tells him, and the message seems deeper than its context.

4 “I’m going to kill myself tomorrow.” - The Royal Tenenbaums (2001)

     Buena Vista Pictures

The Royal Tenenbaums is a story about family. It is dramatic, sad, and, like many of Anderson’s movies, bittersweet. But there is perhaps no scene in any Anderson movie more graphic and potent than the scene with Ritchie Tenenbaum, played by Luke Wilson. It starts with Ritchie and Raleigh, Margot’s husband, finding out about Margot’s secret life of promiscuity, smoking, and even a hidden previous marriage.

Both men are devastated, but Ritchie, who has loved his adopted sister Margot since they were kids, is especially distraught. With the clever use of the song “Needle in the Hay” by Elliott Smith, starting quietly in a previous scene, we then see Ritchie disappear into a blue-tinted bathroom, for what is an incredibly sad and difficult scene to watch. He begins by cutting his hair and beard, then removing his sunglasses, revealing the dead look in his eyes. Then he begins to shave, but stops and, in a direct reference to the tragic French film Le Feu Follet, he says, “I’m going to kill myself tomorrow.” With the combination of disjointed editing and the perfect timing of Smith’s song, Ritchie takes the razor and slices his wrists right then, rather than waiting any longer.

He is rushed to the hospital and survives, and goes on to reconcile with and kiss Margot, as well as start a new career teaching tennis. But, the bold contrast of the red blood in the blue bathroom is shocking and, by far, one of the most emotionally jarring and painful scenes to watch in any Anderson film.

3 “I didn’t save mine.” - The Darjeeling Limited (2007)

     Searchlight Pictures

The Darjeeling Limited is one of Anderson’s movies that doesn’t receive the kind of high praise that many of his other films get. But, it is perhaps the most emotional film of his entire career. It starts with three brothers, Francis (Owen Wilson), Peter (Adrien Brody), and Jack (Jason Schwartzman). They haven’t seen each other since their father’s funeral one year prior, and after his attempted suicide, Francis wants them to get together for a spiritual journey on a train through India - which sets a gorgeous backdrop for the rest of the movie. During the trip, the three of them carry an enormous amount of luggage, which belonged to their father - symbolic of how they still carry around their grief over him. We also learn that their mother wasn’t present at the funeral, and that she is also in India.

Peter and Jack grow angry with Francis, who hid this fact about their mother, and after a fight, they are thrown off the train. Furious with each other and deeply troubled, the three of them start walking and come across three boys who are attempting to cross a river, but fall in. The brothers immediately dive in to save them, but only manage to save two of the three - Peter stumbles out of the river, bleeding and carrying the limp body of the boy he tried to reach. “I didn’t save mine,” he says almost lifelessly, but his eyes are tight with sadness. This is especially difficult for Peter, who had been talking about leaving his pregnant wife shortly before this, and is once again, faced with his own devastating failure, as well as the feeling that he is just a child himself and unable to care for his own wife and child.

They walk to the village to break the awful news to the father, and stay while the boy’s body is prepared for the funeral. We briefly see Peter holding an infant as he sits with other villagers, clearly troubled and still shaken by what has happened. The brothers are about to leave, when they are invited to the funeral instead.

In one of the best and saddest slow motion needle drop scenes, the three brothers, draped in light clothing, walk out to the funeral as the song “Strangers” by the Kinks begins. “Strangers on this road we are on, we are not two, we are one,” the lyrics say, as we see the face of the boy, a stranger to the three brothers, covered by the funeral shroud.

The movie then cuts to their father’s funeral, to finally tell that story. But it is this funeral in India, for a stranger, that starts the healing process for all three brothers. This is the turning point, after which they begin to reconcile with themselves, and each other.

2 “In the end, they shot him.” - The Grand Budapest Hotel

     Fox Searchlight Pictures

The Grand Budapest Hotel is one of Anderson’s most moving and eloquent movies, and also one of his best by far. With exceptional acting, an achingly beautiful setting, and the pangs of loss and nostalgia at the heart of the movie, it is no surprise that, of the three Anderson films featured on BBC’s list of the 100 Greatest Films of the 21st Century, The Grand Budapest Hotel is ranked the highest among them.

Central to the story is the amiable mentor/student relationship between the head concierge at the extravagant Grand Budapest Hotel, Monsieur Gustave H. (played exquisitely by Ralph Fiennes), and the young new bellhop, Zero Moustafa. The two become wrapped up in a murder plot involving a rare piece of art, amid the backdrop of the fading glory that was “old Europe”, which is being replaced by Nazi-like forces on the horizon. Still clinging to that old panache and style is Gustave, and the hotel that he runs like precision clockwork.

There is a melancholic wistfulness to the movie, so when the tragic end is told, it feels as inevitable as it is heartbreaking. The oppressive new regime has come to this fictional country that hosts the grand old hotel. Gustave, Zero, and his girlfriend are traveling aboard a train. This is the only scene in black-and-white, an ominous contrast to the lively and warm color that has been a large part of the rest of the movie. When confronted by the black-clad soldiers, Gustave stands up to protect Zero. We last see him fighting heartily, before the scene cuts to a much older Zero, telling his incredible story to the journalist, played by Jude Law. With heavy sadness, Zero tells him, “There are still faint glimmers of civilization left in this barbaric slaughterhouse that was once known as humanity. He was one of them. What more is there to say?” Enraptured by the otherwise lengthy tale that has been Zero’s biography, the journalist asks him earnestly, “What happened in the end?” To which Zero shortly replies, “In the end, they shot him. So it all went to me.” He looks around at the lavish, now-rundown and unused hotel, as if its enormity and beauty pales in comparison to his memories of such a great man. There is no music, just a quiet sort of devastation.

The movie ends on a lighter note, but that particular scene is like watching someone burn a priceless, irreplaceable work of art. Only that art was living, breathing, and clinging to a past that had already left him behind.

1 “I wonder if it remembers me.” - Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou (2004)

The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou is a parody of the great explorer Jacques Cousteau. It is more of an homage than satire, and at the heart of the film is the complicated and sometimes selfish Steve Zissou, written for and played by Bill Murray. The film is easily Anderson’s quirkiest and most eclectic, which is saying something. It is also very telling that such a character would normally be difficult to act and come off as both contemptible and endearing, but if anyone could pull off such a contradiction, it is definitely Bill Murray.

In the climax of this movie, the titular Zissou has just lost his son Ned, played by Owen Wilson. He is more devastated than he shows, and the team in general is looking depressed and defeated - until they get word that the elusive Jaguar Shark that they’ve been looking for the entire movie is right near them.

They all descend on the little submarine, aptly named Deep Search. Upon seeing the Jaguar Shark, surrounded by friends and family, Zissou is suddenly confronted with the unresolved grief deep within him over losing both his best friend and his son in pursuit of this shark. The achingly beautiful Sigur Rós song “Starálfur” softly begins, as the beautiful shark swims into view, moving from myth into reality. Everyone except for Zissou looks on in awe. Though he originally intended to kill it, Zissou lets the shark go. He finally seems to see its beauty in this moment, as he says, “I wonder if it remembers me.” And then, in Bill Murray’s best moment of any Anderson film, grief breaks over his face, each character around him reaching out to touch him in support, as they finally see him for the vulnerable and changed person he is. The scene is the climax of both the story and Zissou’s internal character arc, and it is just as sad as it is unbearably beautiful.