Anderson, who cowrote the film with Schwartzman and Roman Coppola, has a funny idea here: He wants to show us the folly of forcing a transcendent experience. The brothers are like superannuated hippies straining to sink into the mysteries of India. They barge into religious temples hoping to catch a whiff of exaltation; Peter buys a pet cobra; Jack, the least gaga of the group, finds momentary transcendence in a sexual escapade with a pretty Indian woman on the train.