No Such Thing as a Small Role: The French Dispatch
Wes Anderson is capable of more than his usual fantastical endeavours. In his newest film, he creates something entirely different, even from his nine other films of similar style. The French Dispatch, written, directed, and produced by Wes Anderson, is an anthology of several shorter stories tied together through a writer’s room of the fictional newspaper, Liberty, Kansas Evening Sun. Seemingly inspired by The New Yorker, this film is a tribute to journalism and eccentric storytelling.
There are simply no small roles in The French Dispatch. Only a director like Wes Anderson can get the biggest names in acting to ‘star’ in his film for five minutes of screen time. Although, five minutes of screen time in his films is more vivid than most feature length films are in their entirety. Name an actor, and odds are they are in The French Dispatch. A non-exhaustive list includes: Bill Murray, Owen Wilson, Frances McDormand, Jeffrey Wright, Léa Seydoux, Benicio Del Toro, Adrien Brody, Saoirse Ronan, and Timothée Chalamet. These are arguably some of the highest profile actors out there, reflecting that being a part of a Wes Anderson feature is an honor, even if it is just for a moment.
As a fan of Wes Anderson’s past films, I have come to recognize that many of all of his films are very similar. In a way, he created his own unique genre. They all contained a unified color scheme, fast pacing, unusual dialogue, and striking symmetry. With his newest film, he seems to defy his own genre. While The French Dispatch fits well in Wes Anderon’s collection of films, it offers something different: an anthology of several stories. The central plot is that an American newspaper based in France is going through its weekly stories about to be published. Each writer takes their turn telling their segments written for the paper. The fact that this film is not one unified story is new territory for Wes Anderson. It is very face-paced, yet there are moments of nearly complete silence. Broken into three main sections, The French Dispatch does not tell one cohesive story, but rather several smaller ones. The first of the stories, “The Cycling Reporter” serves as an introduction in which Owen Wilson introduces us to the town of Ennui-sur-Blasé (interestingly translated as boredom on apathy). Owen Wilson’s awkwardly wonderful dialogue and the beautiful setting perfectly introduces the audience to the strangeness of The French Dispatch. This first tiny story is slow, yet is overflowing with visual detail and dense dialogue.
“The Concrete Masterpiece”, the first full section of the film, follows the story of imprisoned artist Moses Rosenthaler (Benicio Del Toro) and his rise to fame through the help of go-getter art dealer and fellow inmate, Julien Cadazio (Adrien Brody). While Benicio Del Toro gives a fantastic performance as a murderous, yet brilliant, painter and Adrien Brody perfectly encapsulates the idea of a prison art dealer, it is Léa Seydoux that shines in this section. Seydoux, one of the only French actors in the main cast, is Simone — prison guard and muse to Rosenthaler. Her straight face as she poses nude to be immortalized in paint shows that she is strong in her own right and is not being used. This section is truly phenomenal: from the chemistry between Del Toro and Seydoux to the intense escalation into a prison-art show fist fight in faux slow motion.
The following section, “Revisions to a Manifesto”, follows a French student revolution led by Zeffirelli (Timothée Chalamet). The revolution is being covered by American journalist, Lucinda Krementz (Frances McDormand), who forms an unlikely romantic relationship with the lanky and much younger Zeffirelli. This section is the film’s most lacking as it is clearly a strange satire on student revolutions. From the revolution being played out via chess match between Chalamet’s character and the riot police to the odd slogan of the revolution (Les enfants sont grognons — the kids are grumpy), the story is too fantastical and wide in scope to make a lasting impression besides its inherent humor.
The final section, “The Private Dining Room of the Police Commissioner”, is by far the best part of the film. It features Roebuck Wright (Jeffrey Wright) writing a story on the famed private chef of the Ennui police commissioner which gets interrupted by the kidnapping of Gigi, the commissioner's son. Of course, after a beautifully done 2-D animated chase sequence, Gigi gets saved by the nearly self-sacrificing chef (who naturally served poisoned food to the kidnappers) that the piece was intended to be about. This section is wonderfully crafted, as the visuals are gorgeous and the story is moving. Overall, this segment was the most impactful as it contains outlandish elements, but is also grounded in the love between father and son.
In many ways, The French Dispatch is Wes Anderson’s most toned-down film yet. For a characteristically detail-oriented director, this says a lot. Yes, it is visually striking and has absurd stories, but it leaves plenty of room to breathe within each story, and between them. After being immersed in a highly individual story, the audience is brought back to the writer’s room where the authors are discussing the story we just saw. This meta approach allows the film to have a sense of cohesion that it desperately needs, as well as reminding the audience that the film is about the writing process. In addition, its score is atypically bare, featuring stripped down piano melodies that highlight the movement on screen instead of lush orchestral pieces.
The French Dispatch is peak Wes Anderson, but lacks certain elements that his past films contain. Some moments in The French Dispatch lack the raw emotion of complex family dynamics of films like The Royal Tenenbaums. Due to the anthology format, there is a lack of character development that would certainly add much to the individual stories. In the end, The French Dispatch is Wes Anderson’s most bizarre film to date. It offers glimpses into the lives of various authors writing about the escapades around them. Yes, The French Dispatch, can be viewed as boring at some points, but these slow moments offer jarring contrast to the climactic moments interspersed throughout the film. Overall, Wes Anderson has perfected his idiosyncratic craft of creating stories and characters that are cartoonish, yet very human.
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