GulfportDoc
01-30-22, 05:48 PM
84921
The French Dispatch (2021)
Dashiell Hammett once said, “It’s the beginning of the end when you discover you have style.” One hopes that this will not be the case with Wes Anderson. But in his latest film, style over story is definitely on display. And brilliant is the style. Production designer Adam Stockhausen, set decorator Rena DeAngelo, DP Robert Yeoman, and film composer Alexandre Desplat put together a cornucopia of sight and sound that does not let up for its entire 108 minute run time. Its color palette, set framing, and off beat scene and action design fire at the viewer with such unrelenting eye candy as to be overwhelming.
Yet the story told roughly in four parts is incoherent and confusing. Reportedly Anderson was giving a nod to the magazine The New Yorker, but the link is likely recognizable only by those who are intimate with the publication’s history and personalities. And the magazine’s famous cartoons are much more droll and dry than most examples of Anderson’s eccentric wit.
The editor of The French Dispatch magazine (Bill Murray) drops dead early on, and to fulfill the orders in his will, four stories are included in a final publication. Of the four segments, “The Concrete Masterpiece” is largely the easiest to follow. A crazed artist (Benicio del Toro) who is in prison for murder, paints pictures of his nude model (Lea Seydoux), who is also his jailer. An art dealer and fellow prisoner (Adrien Brody), galvanized by the paintings, secures public presentation of them which brings international fame to the artist. Yet subsequent sales of the artist’s works becomes problematic since they were painted on walls when he was in prison. A solution is found.
The film serves as a send up of the pretentious modern art world, political revolutionaries, and Gallic nature. But the scene changes and zany confrontations come at the viewer so rapidly that one finds oneself desperately searching for some cohesion, for some narrative. In contrast Anderson’s 2014 The Grand Budapest Hotel has similar style, wackiness and design, but with a more accessible pacing and a discernible plot.
The picture featured a cast full of Anderson regulars plus a carload of bankable stars. Reportedly his next film expands the cast to a boat load size. Hopefully in that film Anderson will have gotten back on track to give us a fathomable story along with his signature eccentricity.
Doc’s rating: Production - 10/10; Story - 5/10
The French Dispatch (2021)
Dashiell Hammett once said, “It’s the beginning of the end when you discover you have style.” One hopes that this will not be the case with Wes Anderson. But in his latest film, style over story is definitely on display. And brilliant is the style. Production designer Adam Stockhausen, set decorator Rena DeAngelo, DP Robert Yeoman, and film composer Alexandre Desplat put together a cornucopia of sight and sound that does not let up for its entire 108 minute run time. Its color palette, set framing, and off beat scene and action design fire at the viewer with such unrelenting eye candy as to be overwhelming.
Yet the story told roughly in four parts is incoherent and confusing. Reportedly Anderson was giving a nod to the magazine The New Yorker, but the link is likely recognizable only by those who are intimate with the publication’s history and personalities. And the magazine’s famous cartoons are much more droll and dry than most examples of Anderson’s eccentric wit.
The editor of The French Dispatch magazine (Bill Murray) drops dead early on, and to fulfill the orders in his will, four stories are included in a final publication. Of the four segments, “The Concrete Masterpiece” is largely the easiest to follow. A crazed artist (Benicio del Toro) who is in prison for murder, paints pictures of his nude model (Lea Seydoux), who is also his jailer. An art dealer and fellow prisoner (Adrien Brody), galvanized by the paintings, secures public presentation of them which brings international fame to the artist. Yet subsequent sales of the artist’s works becomes problematic since they were painted on walls when he was in prison. A solution is found.
The film serves as a send up of the pretentious modern art world, political revolutionaries, and Gallic nature. But the scene changes and zany confrontations come at the viewer so rapidly that one finds oneself desperately searching for some cohesion, for some narrative. In contrast Anderson’s 2014 The Grand Budapest Hotel has similar style, wackiness and design, but with a more accessible pacing and a discernible plot.
The picture featured a cast full of Anderson regulars plus a carload of bankable stars. Reportedly his next film expands the cast to a boat load size. Hopefully in that film Anderson will have gotten back on track to give us a fathomable story along with his signature eccentricity.
Doc’s rating: Production - 10/10; Story - 5/10