For a minute or so, deep in the black sea, through the eyes of a man named Zissou, surrounded by clouds of fluorescent snapper and an animated shark that glows more than it shimmers, and aurally encircled by the ethereal warblings of Icelandic atmospheric chamber rock act Sigur Rós, the world makes sense.

It makes sense in that cracking, hard-to-breathe way, the way it pulled at your breath when Chas Tenenbaum admitted to Royal he had a rough year. It's that understated yet epic moment when the music perfectly matches the visuals and the visuals harmonize with the performances and the actors barely have to say a word -- they just have to be. See, Wes Anderson may be the master director of capricious, ironic wit, but, hmm, there's something more, isn't there? Bottle Rocket, Rushmore, The Royal Tenenbaums -- they teem with the sort of apathetic irreverence that actually manages to make us laugh, as opposed to, say, Family Guy or South Park.

But Anderson also has this way of infusing his deadpan absurdity with more emotion than will ever fit into some grandiose wannabe tearjerker starring Leonardo DiCaprio.

Anderson's films, including The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou -- his latest stab at directing and co-writing -- all swarm with this twisted-storybook precociousness and/or preciousness, which works wonders if you'll let it. Sure, The Life Aquatic is totally absurd. It's about Steve Zissou (Bill Murray), a washed-up cinematic oceanographer akin to a narcissistic, doped up Jacques Cousteau. Zissou's out to kill a shark that devoured his best friend, which obviously can't be done without the help of his motley crew, including the eager-to-please might-be son (Owen Wilson), the brains behind the "greatness" billionaire wife (Angelica Huston) and the short-shorts-wearing first mate William Dafoe, in his first role that doesn't totally creep me out. Where's the whimsy in such a tale of seafaring revenge, you may ask.

Well, it's in the David Bowie songs performed in Portuguese; in Zissou's crumbling ship with a spa and state-of-the-art stolen espresso machine lurking beneath; in the inherent understanding of little unpaid college interns really matter in the scheme of things.

Where The Royal Tenenbaums and Rushmore were completely cohesive narratives featuring some droll digressions that didn't detract a bit from the plots, The Life Aquatic's more of one giant, rambling deviation.

You can either accept The Life Aquatic's and Anderson's sometimes bumpy forays, or you can lament that this film may have some biting moments, characters and dialogue, but it's no Rushmore. There are some discordant scenes as well as a few flat performances (surprisingly, one from the usually infallible Cate Blanchett as a pregnant, kind-of-daft marine journalist). Hey, there's some real emotional thematic staff at work underneath The Life Aquatic's weird humor, quirky narrative improbabilities and unobtrusive yet wonderful comedic performances (particularly from Bill Murray). All the film's "what is family?" and "what is success?" mumbo jumbo might actually strike a chord if you open yourself to something other than Meet the Fockers and let in the whimsy that The Life Aquatic has to offer. And for one moment, if you let it, your world can make sense in a dark theater, gazing at a glowing screen that shimmers with animated fish and the blank but pained and peaceful face of Bill Murray, listening to some quivering Icelandic melody, and shivering at the cinematic gift that Wes Anderson has bestowed to you.