The French Dispatch of the Liberty, Kansas Evening Sun

Anderson Unleashed

5/5

Spoilers

About a month ago, whilst trawling YouTube for tidbits of pop culture, I came across a skit from the often amusing Saturday Night Live. It clearly wasn't incredibly old, yet they had labelled it as 'SNL Vintage'. The piece was entitled 'Wes Anderson Halloween Trailer' and, as someone who has recently discovered a love for Wes Anderson's movies, I thought we'd give it a watch. It was not only a very funny sketch, it was also a brilliantly accurate parody of Anderson's rather distinctive style. It had everything one would expect, from an ensemble cast made up of familiar faces ('Owen Wilson', 'Gwyneth Paltrow', 'Tilda Swinton', and actually Alec Baldwin narrating), through the rather thesaurusly inspired dialogue, to the candy-box perfect imagery. And, in all honesty, so much more. It was spot on. In fact, I liked it so much I'll let you watch it...

See what I mean? In many ways, I couldn't imagine anything being a more distilled form of Anderson's style. And then we went to see The French Dispatch.

Anderson's latest theatrical offering follows a magazine format, a very literal magazine format. An editor for the French bureau of a Kansas newspaper, played in a helpfully subdued manner by Bill Murray, dies. The film sees the construction of the final issue (leading up to his death). We hear the writers of the four main pieces read their work, seeing the stories play out before our eyes. It isike Countryfile but with less sheep and more colour. In effect, you are given a series of cinematic vignettes loosely connected by a common theme.

The primary purpose of the movie, as Anderson himself has stated, was to send a love letter to journalists. His boyhood love of The New Yorker comes through very loudly, with lots of imagery and writing styles found within the film echoing real life counterparts. A very miniscule amount of research will quickly throw up the inspirations for the stories. The journalistic tone marries very nicely with Anderson's standard dialogue style. In fact, the influence of such writers on him comes through quite loudly.

The cast, as with any Wes Anderson flick, play a large part in the film's success. Somehow he manages to pull together amazing ensemble casts that must make even Kevin Feige weep a bitter tear of jealousy. It was nice to see Owen Wilson, at the top of the film, out and about again, clearly enjoying his late career revival's beginning, but there were so many more performers of equal quality to follow. The first main story, 'The Concrete Masterpiece', found a wryly amusing turn from Benicio del Toro as a criminally insane and incarcerated artistic genius, alongside Léa Seydoux, Adrian Brody, Henry Winkler, Bob Balaban, and Lois Smith rounding out a role call of pitch perfect performances. At the heart, narrating the tale, was Tilda Swinton in a very amusing American 'art lecturer' role - an occasion where false teeth definitely added to the role rather than providing a Mercury sized distraction.

The middle tale, 'Revisions to a Manifesto', was heavily inspired by the 1968 French unrest, particularly amongst the students. At the front you have Timothée Chalamet working quite effectively against his older journalist lover Frances McDormand. Although the youthful element of the cast was less well known, they slipped into the Anderson style smoothly. Amongst so many lesser-known actors, the director couldn't help himself by slipping Christoph Waltz into a tiny cameo, presumably because he could.

The final story, 'The Private Dining Room of the Police Commissioner', was a police tale involving food and a kidnapping. Here we found the stand out performance of the film, Jeffrey Wright as an African-American, homosexual journalist, facing a life of lonely wanderings. Amongst all of the wit and almost surreal set-ups, Wright turned in a powerfully haunted performance, aided by the resonance of his bass-baritone. Again, surrounding him in roles diminishing from side-character to fleeting, were such big names as Mathieu Amalric, Edward Norton, Liev Schreiber, Saoirse Ronan, and Willem Defoe. There are many examples of comedy films that rely on cameos for a cheap gag, often wasting the talent within. With a Wes Anderson ensemble, it is clear that he has hand-picked a cast of the highest quality to bring about the completion of his vision. And you get that in spades here.

My favourite aspect of his directing style is his manipulation and control of the visuals. The cinematography, production design, costumes, and lighting all conform in one singular view. Every shot is designed like a painting, or a still life, or a piece of performance art, or a sculpture. Here we found the doll house approach, seen to greatest effect in The Grand Budapest Hotel, returning to show planes in flight and radio towers. The candy box images, referenced at the head of the review, can be seen in composite images throughout, although the best were in Owen Wilson's travelogue or in the creative coffee shop shots for Frances McDormand's political tale. The freeze frames used in Tilda Swinton's section were clever - you could see the actors were stood still, slight wobbles allowed, creating a scene equally absurd and poignant. When combined with Alexadre Desplat's slightly wonky, tonally perfect score, cinematic magic happens.

Through eschewing the narrative formats of previous films by focusing on these postcard tales, Anderson allows himself a greater deal of scope and freedom to indulge his ideas. He manages to use this movie as a conduit to express his most pure ideas on cinema. Yet, at the same time, there are strong influences at play. Each individual segment combined his own work with that of a cinematic forebear. Perhaps it was the set or setting, but the initial story put me in mind of early cinema. The story of the lunatics, combined with the rather fanciful plane sequence, was somewhat familiar of the late 20s. The second tale was more on the nose, with overtones of Breathless and other 60s New Wave French cinema combining with the pop sounds of that decade (rerecorded by Anderson's mate, Jarvis Cocker, obviously). The final tale returned to the crime dramas of the 50s, crossed with little moments of Tin-Tin. But at every turn, these homages were blended with the stylistic tricks that single out Anderson's singular vision.

It is not a perfect piece. I imagine the casual observer might find the film hard work or a little smug at times. It has its style and leans heavily into it. The symmetrical scenes. The stationary zoom ins. The neat rows of books. As ever, Anderson uses fifty words when he could use ten, but sometimes more is indeed more. The pacing felt a little off towards the start - with the promise of the magazine sections, Owen Wilson's first section lasted for all of five minutes, whereas the Tilda Swinton piece that followed must have been over twenty minutes. By the end, the Wilson section became apparent as an appetiser to ease you in to the concept, but at the time it felt unbalanced. A small criticism of an otherwise enjoyable film.

I am intrigued to see where Anderson goes next. His Wikipedia entry suggests a Rom-com (filled, surprisingly, with Bill Murray, Tilda Swinton, Adrien Brody etc...). Perhaps this may be the peak of his creative powers, or at least as we have seen them up until now. Where could he creatively move from here? At any rate, The French Dispatch, though possibly not his absolute best, is still an outstanding piece of cinematic popular art, an excellent condensing of one artist's vision, and a welcome change from a season of variable blockbusters.

The French Dispatch of the Liberty, Kansas Evening Sun, 2021

Director: Wes Anderson

Writer: Wes Anderson

Composer: Alexandre Desplat

Starring: Bill Murray, Owen Wilson, Tilda Swinton, Benicio del Toro, Léa Seydoux, Adrien Brody, Frances McDormand, Timothée Chalamet, Jeffrey Wright, & Mathieu Amalric

Currently showing in major cinemas across the U.K.