Wes Anderson, Please Never Get Help; The French Dispatch Review
Best put by the woman seated in front of me, as she whispered to her friend during a quiet moment, “somebody has a kooky imagination”. Pretentious, theatrical, vividly colorful, humorous, and occasionally moving, The French Dispatch is Wes Anderson at his most Wes Anderson. Possibly a new favorite of all of his filmography, The French Dispatch surpassed expectations and perfectly captured why I, and other cinephiles, come back to Wes Anderson films again and again.
The film follows the writers of a European publication as they piece together their best three stories to publish in their final issue as a memorial edition. Mostly shot live action with animated and split scenes along with flashbacks, the audience steps into the pages of the magazine and are fully immersed in the world Anderson eloquently presents over the course of the 107 minutes. Described by Anderson as a “love letter to journalism”, the audience watches three (four, if an introduction to city of Ennui-sur-Blasé is counted) completely different stories in succession: one of an insane and imprisoned artist, another of student riots and revolutionaries, and the last of a chef saving a young child after he was kidnapped. What should have been a disjointed and precarious delivery was unexpectedly easy to view; the separation of the stories becomes one of the best parts about the film. Much like the beloved bike of cycling reporter Herbsaint Sazerac, this movie is one of many small moving parts, each more delightful than the last. If you don’t like one part, chances are another one will catch your eye.
The first portion of the film features reporter Herbsaint Sazerac (Owen Wilson) delivering a travelogue of sorts directly to the camera as he rides around the fictional 20th-century French city, Ennui-sur-Blasé which translates literally to boredom-on-apathy. The simplest of stories to follow, the city of Ennui-sur-Blasé becomes the most compelling character presented by Anderson. Dynamic as always, Wilson guides the audience through a satirical tour of Ennui, from its rivers from which bodies are pulled out to the choirboys who prey on those around them and are “half drunk off the blood of Christ”.
The second story is narrarated by art historian J.K.L Berenson (Tilda Swinton) as she tells the story of psychopathic artist and inmate Moses Rosenthaler (Benicio del Toro), who was convicted of murder, and his torrid affair with prison guard Simone (Léa Seydoux). This narrative is quick-witted and charming, particularly when the focus is on Swinton, who delivers one of the film’s best performances as she sips her glass of wine and divulges details of her sex life on stage.
The third (and my favorite) part is fronted by Frances McDormand as Lucinda Krementz, a political correspondent who is researching student riots. Though fictional, the riots appear to be heavily based on those in 1968 in Paris. Leading the riots is student Zeffirelli, dynamically brought to life by Timothée Chalamet, who demands for male students to be allowed into women’s dormitories. Krementz is invited to Zeffirelli’s parent’s home for dinner and upon finding him working on his manifesto, offers to assist him. The two enter a love affair as Krementz continues to edit his manifesto, with a “let’s start with the typo’s”. As Zeffirelli makes his way through the riots by playing the police in games of chess, he fights with and becomes infatuated by Juliette (Lyna Khoudri), another student leader. The story wraps with the accidental death of Zeffirelli after the riots- as Krementz put it- “obliterated a thousand years of republican authority in less than a fortnight”. It is a particularly intelligent and delightful portion that critically looks at the importance of perspective and personal connections in journalism and the spirit of youth-led riots.
The most moving of all the narratives is the final piece, which features Jeffrey Wright as Roebuck Wright as a black, gay, and American author as he focuses on the culinary arts in Ennui. The story centers around a piece he is writing about famed chef Lieutenant Nescaffier (Steve Park) who specializes in police cuisine -- food served to police officers. While consuming the meal, the young son of the Commissaire is kidnapped and taken hostage, forcing all at the table, including Wright, to participate in his recovery. What is superficially an action-packed story centering on crime and justice, ends up inherently focusing on the struggles of the idea of “exile” and “othering”, emphasized with the strangely acute line “Maybe with good luck we’ll find what eluded us in the places we once called home”. Park as Lieutenant Nescaffier also delivers a poignant performance, saying “I’m not brave. I just wasn’t in the mood to be a disappointment to anybody”. The idea of exile and being a foreigner feels oddly profound and almost out of place in the light film but it makes for a stronger and more lasting impact than just the electric visuals showcased throughout.
Though no weak link was visible, Tilda Swinton, Timothée Chalamet, Frances McDormand, Benicio del Toro, and Mathieu Amarlic stood out in an especially large cast. A personal disappointment and one of my only qualms with the film was the small amount of screen time allotted to Soarise Ronan who was briefly featured in the final story.
A beautiful and wonderfully-charming film made for a delightful watch and left me wanting more. More issues of The French Dispatch, more of the characters, more of Ennui-sur-Blasé, and much more of Wes Anderson. At risk of sounding like a pretentious film major, like with all Wes Anderson films, this film is meant to be rewatched at least twice to allow for maximum understanding. I look forward to revisiting this film again and again and I would implore all those even remotely curious to try it. If nothing else, the vivid visuals will offer a welcome escape in the coming dreary winter months.
by Eliora Abramson