The French Dispatch (2021)
Country: US/GER
Technical: col/bw/1.37:1/1.85:1 108m
Director: Wes Anderson
Cast: Anjelica Huston (narrator), Bill Murray, Owen Wilson, Benicio Del Toro, Adrien Brody, Léa Seydoux, Frances McDormand, Timothée Chalamet, Lyna Khoudri, Mathieu Amalric, Jeffrey Wright
Synopsis:
The scion of a Kansas newspaper family travels to Europe and founds a magazine along the lines of a 'local colour' supplement in a French town by the name of Ennui-sur-Blasé. On his death, the magazine folds. The film is both an audio-visual recreation of a typical issue and an affectionate homage to the publication and its contributors.
Review:
Anderson's predilection for exotica of all kinds (and to an American, France is exotic), together with nostalgia for old-fashioned technologies, modes of speech, and cultural forms, find plentiful expression in this treasure trove. However, the frontally composed, increasingly cluttered mise-en-scène and allusive dialogue, together with narration that is so absurd as to be meaningless if not intended to be funny (which it often is not) are all evidence to a creative talent in danger of disappearing up its own self-reflexive derrière. This is not to say that there is not an ineffable pleasure to be had in a turn of phrase here, a nod to Tati or Tintin there, or simply the realisations of townscapes, interiors and artefacts; but as with a literal feast this visual one is so richly served as to be only half digested at one sitting; even some of the supporting cast (Christoph Waltz, Cécile de France) barely register, while the relentless onslaught of detail leads to the impression of a movie far longer than it actually is. A qualified success, then, and perhaps one that requires maturation before being uncorked a second time.
Country: US/GER
Technical: col/bw/1.37:1/1.85:1 108m
Director: Wes Anderson
Cast: Anjelica Huston (narrator), Bill Murray, Owen Wilson, Benicio Del Toro, Adrien Brody, Léa Seydoux, Frances McDormand, Timothée Chalamet, Lyna Khoudri, Mathieu Amalric, Jeffrey Wright
Synopsis:
The scion of a Kansas newspaper family travels to Europe and founds a magazine along the lines of a 'local colour' supplement in a French town by the name of Ennui-sur-Blasé. On his death, the magazine folds. The film is both an audio-visual recreation of a typical issue and an affectionate homage to the publication and its contributors.
Review:
Anderson's predilection for exotica of all kinds (and to an American, France is exotic), together with nostalgia for old-fashioned technologies, modes of speech, and cultural forms, find plentiful expression in this treasure trove. However, the frontally composed, increasingly cluttered mise-en-scène and allusive dialogue, together with narration that is so absurd as to be meaningless if not intended to be funny (which it often is not) are all evidence to a creative talent in danger of disappearing up its own self-reflexive derrière. This is not to say that there is not an ineffable pleasure to be had in a turn of phrase here, a nod to Tati or Tintin there, or simply the realisations of townscapes, interiors and artefacts; but as with a literal feast this visual one is so richly served as to be only half digested at one sitting; even some of the supporting cast (Christoph Waltz, Cécile de France) barely register, while the relentless onslaught of detail leads to the impression of a movie far longer than it actually is. A qualified success, then, and perhaps one that requires maturation before being uncorked a second time.
Country: US/GER
Technical: col/bw/1.37:1/1.85:1 108m
Director: Wes Anderson
Cast: Anjelica Huston (narrator), Bill Murray, Owen Wilson, Benicio Del Toro, Adrien Brody, Léa Seydoux, Frances McDormand, Timothée Chalamet, Lyna Khoudri, Mathieu Amalric, Jeffrey Wright
Synopsis:
The scion of a Kansas newspaper family travels to Europe and founds a magazine along the lines of a 'local colour' supplement in a French town by the name of Ennui-sur-Blasé. On his death, the magazine folds. The film is both an audio-visual recreation of a typical issue and an affectionate homage to the publication and its contributors.
Review:
Anderson's predilection for exotica of all kinds (and to an American, France is exotic), together with nostalgia for old-fashioned technologies, modes of speech, and cultural forms, find plentiful expression in this treasure trove. However, the frontally composed, increasingly cluttered mise-en-scène and allusive dialogue, together with narration that is so absurd as to be meaningless if not intended to be funny (which it often is not) are all evidence to a creative talent in danger of disappearing up its own self-reflexive derrière. This is not to say that there is not an ineffable pleasure to be had in a turn of phrase here, a nod to Tati or Tintin there, or simply the realisations of townscapes, interiors and artefacts; but as with a literal feast this visual one is so richly served as to be only half digested at one sitting; even some of the supporting cast (Christoph Waltz, Cécile de France) barely register, while the relentless onslaught of detail leads to the impression of a movie far longer than it actually is. A qualified success, then, and perhaps one that requires maturation before being uncorked a second time.