If you’re coming in from Dallas, the drive to Hillsboro takes about an hour-and-a-half. It is a drive filled with mostly gas stations and three-in-one fast food restaurants, the setting Texas sun peering behind long stretches of highway, your car steering wheel never actually turning, just resolutely pointing straight.
It is dark outside when my girlfriend and I finally pulled up to the Days Inn Hillsboro, a wholly unremarkable stop on the side of that same highway. It’s like any other motel: no distinguishing features, no plaque or statue or updated paint job. But it was here, over twenty years ago, that a young, pre-fame Wes Anderson wrangled a cast of unknowns and strung together a film that has remained one of my favorite movies ever.
We’re a little late. Fold-out chairs and a six-pack in tow, we join the back of the audience and waited for the movie to begin. For many, this is an annual tradition, buoyed by the hopes of keeping this Days Inn afloat through tough financial times. For some, like my girlfriend and I, this is the first time to watch the movie where it was filmed, the first time to look at the Drafthouse’s giant inflatable screen and then back at that same stuccoed pool in real life. But for all of us, this might be the last. There are rumors of this Days Inn finally closing at the end of this year. This may be the last time for this event for the foreseeable future and, as the community of fans (some in costume, some not), can attest, this event will be missed.
Bottle Rocket remains an interesting blip on Wes Anderson’s filmography. His first attempt at a feature-length script, the shots and dialogue lack the polish of his future works (with minimal amounts of that signature obsessiveness and consistency). But still, twenty years later, the movie works. The Wilson brothers are fresh faces, still unsure about the camera and how their jagged grins will pop on the screen. The rotating cast of characters surrounding them each deliver pitch-perfect performances, populating a world that feels very familiar but surreal.
The credits roll and the lights surrounding the motel flicker back on slowly. Some rooms have been transformed by other fans into different representations of other Wes Anderson movies. They huddle up in rooms based on The Darjeeling Limited, drinking and eating, celebrating a movie that they have all loved for two decades, celebrating the Days Inn, for all its decrepit hallways and outdated furniture.
Somewhat surprisingly, there were no fireworks in the field that night. After the movie ended and we explored the motel grounds a little bit more, we headed back to Dallas, back down that long highway. But the night continued long after we left and I think it will still continue for a long time, even if that Days Inn Hillsboro motel might not.
