Rushmore<> Any movie that features songs by The Who, the Kinks, the Stones, Chad and Jeremey, and the Faces runs the risk of seeming nostalgic for the good old Angry Young Man days, when British invaders ruled. But Wes Anderson's Rushmore<> is not, strictly speaking, nostalgic. It's set in present day, more or less, tracking the adventures of a prep school student who doesn't really pay much attention to said soundtrack. And it does manage a modicum of cynicism, not the usual hardcore late-90s variety, but less abrasive, more adorable. The film, written by Anderson and Owen Wilson, achieves this relatively kind and gentle tone by focusing on the eccentric Max Fischer (Jason Schwartzman, Talia Shire's son), a tenth-grader at Rushmore Academy. He wears thick glasses, the school's navy blazer, and his straight dark hair slicked down, dweeb-style. Max is smart in a conniving and often amusing way, ambitious but possessed of limited traditional resources. He's been at Rushmore for years more than he should be, and though he's applied for early admission to Oxford, he'll never get in: his grades suck and he's terrible at sports. Equal parts nerd and pill, Max is self-conscious enough to know that he must excel in something else: so, he's president and/or founder of just about every imaginable extracurricular activity on campus, from the Astronomy, French, Rockets, and Chess clubs to the Debate and Fencing teams to the Max Fischer Players, for whom he's the writer, director, and star of their rather elaborate productions each term. Like the romantic schemers in Anderson's first film, Bottle Rocket<>, Max has less than a solid grip on reality. And like them, he concentrates his energies on objects that tend to remain beyond reach, in his case Oxford and the sweetest first-grade teacher on the planet, Miss Rosemary Cross (Olivia Williams, last seen bedding Kevin Costner in The Postman<>, so this film, no matter what else it may be, is a major advancement in her career). Max also has something else the guys in Bottle Rocket<> had, a less than ideal male mentor. Here the would-be guide is wealthy tycoon Herman Blume (Bill Murray), father of two of Max's classmates (monstrously spoiled twins). Blume is in a bit of predicament himself when he meets Max, feeling miserable because his life is routine and cheerless. Max is encouraging. A friendship is born. No doubt, Max is in need of a role model. His widower father (Seymour Cassel, underplaying beautifully, as always) is a sensible but unambitious barber. His headmaster (Brian Cox) is gruff and mostly annoyed at the kid's shenanigans. Blume seems just the ticket, until he also falls for Rosemary, and an increasingly juvenile and ludicrous competition ensues. She seems warmed by the boys' attentions (Max reminds her of her drowned husband, whom she knew as a boy) and oblivious to their excesses. Max's obsession is treated comically but it's a lot like stalking: he sneaks in through her window, he spies on her, he sabotages her dates with other men. Blume's interest is made more legitimate because of his age, money, and emotional neediness: when he sees his wife flirting with a young tanned poolside body, he despairs, but in a way more exhausted than aggressive. He launches himself into the water, where the camera holds on him. Submerged, sad, and bloated, he looks like Dustin Hoffman's Graduate<>, 30 years later and scads richer, still overpowered by indecision and fear. (Murray's performance is garnering awards, nominations, and critical accolades: the revenge of The Razor's Edge<>?) This is the kind of small moment that the film does well, as opposed to its conspicuously Quirky-with-a-big-Q scenes, as when Max stages a fundraiser or play. While the bigger, more colorful scenes look original and creative, the lower key material is more effective and less strained.