At this point, it’s safe to say that Wes Anderson has become a very… interesting figure in the film community. While his films have all grown into critical and commercial successes the more his career has moved along, with The Grand Budapest Hotel in 2014 launching him into near-stardom, general opinion of him remains mixed – and for good reason. Anderson is one of the most unique film-makers working today, with an incredibly distinct style of film usually characterized by offbeat, quirky humour, somewhat dysfunctional characters, and particularly stunning visuals – all of which are either a blessing or a detriment depending on who you’re talking to. Nonetheless, it is nothing short of impressive that the man has been able to keep making such niche products and yet amassing a larger following with each new film he puts out. But is it possible for things to become too niche? Now that his new film is out, I’ll take the opportunity to answer the question: Has Wes Anderson finally lost it?
Before we delve into all the technical stuff, it’s worth discussing this film’s plot, which can be described in just one sentence: Following the death of the editor-in-chief of the titular newspaper, its last ever issue is printed (as per his will), featuring three editorials from past editions of the paper: “The Concrete Masterpiece”, a story of a mentally disturbed artist in the local prison who becomes a worldwide sensation, “Revisions to a Manifesto”, a story following a student-led revolution and its self-styled leader, and “The Private Dining Room of the Police Commissioner”, a recount of a dinner with the commissaire of the local police that goes awry when his son is kidnapped by a group of ragtag criminals. As you can probably already tell, this is an anthology story, and each editorial is neatly divided into its own ‘chapter’ of the film, with no overlap between any of the three.
Turns out my explanation of the plot provides a good segue into one of my problems with this film, so let’s get into that. You see, making an anthology film, especially when each individual story is separated into its own neat chapter, is a little difficult – namely because each individual story needs to be interesting enough to hold the audience’s attention until the next one. This is all opinion, of course, but I personally felt that each story gradually became less engaging as the film went on. “The Concrete Masterpiece” is by far my favourite of the three, owing to both the incredible performances by Benicio del Toro and Léa Seydoux and the compelling themes of artistic struggle that are present throughout the story. “Revisions to a Manifesto”, while also having good performances from Frances McDormand and Timothée Chalamet, felt a bit too overwrought with quirky Andersonian dialogue at places, and I wish the student revolution was looked at a little more deeper than just surface-level. Again, “The Private Dining Room of the Police Commissioner” has solid acting work from Jeffrey Wright and Mathieu Amalric, but it drags on for too long and feels like a jumbled mess compared to the other two. Moreover, The French Dispatch isn’t exactly a long film – it’s only around an hour-forty – so part of me wishes it was longer so that certain stories could be more fleshed out.
But hey, not everything’s all that bad. If you were to look at this film from just a technical standpoint, it’s probably Anderson’s most visually impressive film so far – I’m not kidding, every frame really could be a painting (or, I guess, nice laptop wallpaper). What can I say, Anderson has quite the eye for visuals, and the film’s fictional city of Ennui-sur-Blasé (literally Boredom-upon-Jaded; my French skills came in handy for once) is beautifully realised. However, as weird as this may sound, there were moments where the attractiveness of the visuals actually made me feel a bit annoyed: Virtually nothing of much importance or depth was happening in the story, but you can bet your ass that the backgrounds were popping. I don’t want to compare films too much, but that is really what sets it apart from being anything close to The Grand Budapest Hotel – yes, Grand Budapest is one of the most good-looking and atmospheric films of the 2010s, but that wasn’t all that people liked about it. It had a tight-knit story, characters that developed as it went along, and a lot of heart – characteristics that this film is somewhat lacking in. For every problem, though, there was something I liked, be it a quirky visual gag, an experimental style, or a genuinely hilarious line. All in all, this film definitely isn’t without merit.
In conclusion, The French Dispatch isn’t Wes Anderson’s best (on a storytelling level at least), but it’s far from his worst. It’s decidedly more enjoyable if you’re already a fan of or are interested in his work, but I nonetheless think it’s worth a watch for anyone interested in something different from the norm.
Final score: 7.5/10
The Art Archive 