After heading off to distant worlds in DUNE (transported via the “cinema starship”), how about a visit to another faraway world? Well, it feels and looks pretty similar to our own, but with some major differences. If only our Earth had as much wit, charm, and whimsy, though both have Bill Murray, one of a galaxy of stars. I’m talking about the wondrous world of Wes Anderson, who effortlessly mixes nostalgia, literate language, and modern film tech to create a place that evokes a magical past, but feels fresh and new. And, he’s gifted movie lovers with a pretty wrapped early holiday present. Oh, it’s a gift subscription to the supplement magazine to the Liberty Kansas Evening Sun, THE FRENCH DISPATCH.
The film begins, much like many periodicals, with a brief publishing history and a table of contents, introducing us to the various editors. Its office on the top floor of a small building in the French metropolis of Ennui-sur-Blase is run by longtime editor Arthur Howitzer, Jr. (Murray) until his sudden death in 1975. As his longtime staff gathers for a memorial in his private office, the narrator (Angelica Huston) presents several articles from the supplement’s long run. First is a bicycle tour of the streets of Ennui by writer Herbsaint Sazerac (Owen Wilson). The pages turn to the art section as J.K.L. Beensen (Tilda Swinton), tells the story of painter Moses Rosenthaler (Benicio Del Toro) to a rapt audience. Moses was producing abstract paintings of his muse/guard Simone (Lea Seydoux) while serving a lengthy sentence for multiple murders (though he’s clearly disturbed). This attracts the attention of art dealer/hustler Julian Cadazio (Adrian Brody) whose gallery promotes the work of Moses. Though unable to get the artist a pardon, Julian prods him into creating a masterpiece for the owner of the Evening Sun. From there we’re off to the “current events” section as writer Lucinda Krementz (Frances McDormand) examines the student uprisings of the late 60s as she focuses on the young leader of the movement, the charismatic Zefferelli (Timothee Chalamet). Rounding out this “best of” edition is a food article by Roebuck Wright (Jeffrey Wright). Guesting on an early 70s TV talk show he relates the story to its host (Liev Schrieber), one that begins as an examination of “police cuisine” by sharing a meal with the police commissioner (Mathieu Amalric). But the entrees are set aside when the commissioner’s son is kidnapped by ruthless criminals led by his chauffer (Edward Norton) and his showgirl/moll (Saoirse Ronan). This prompts a harrowing chase and a police dragnet of the city. At its conclusion, the story resumes back in Howitzer’s office as the staff prepares for an uncertain future.
As with many Anderson projects, there are no clear “lead roles’, but the cast, many in his unofficial “reparatory company” get ample time to ‘shine’ in several small roles. Murray is the perfect father figure/supervisor as the soft-spoken Howitzer. Wilson balances his laconic line delivery with some nifty slapstick as our cycling guide (look out for the subway entrance…). One of the movies’ most versatile “chameleons” adds another eccentric role to her repertoire as the awkward, toothy art expert who’s not as witty as she believes. Del Toro is funny and dangerous as the animal-like art savant and is matched by Tony Revolori as his younger self. He makes for a good counterpart in his scenes with Brody as the intense, motor-mouthed “artist exploiter” Julian. Seydoux is the ultimate deadpan seductress as the prison’s model/muscle. McDormand is “all business” as the investigating journalist who gets far too close with Chalamet, who’s his usual youthful charmer (and capable of cultivating a much better mustache, I’d think). As the new writer in town, Wright has a melancholy dignity as he conquers the challenges of the time (though many barriers he faced are still in place). Amalric is a most efficient “crimebuster”, always in control despite the danger to his youngster. His personal chef, Nescaffier juggles policework and epicurial accument is played with grace and subtlety by Stephen Park. And though they’re given few lines, it’s great to see Elizabeth Moss, Fisher Stevens, and Griffin Dunne huddled in the editor’s office. Oh, and who’s that next to Anderson stalwart Bob Balaban? Could it be our beloved Fonz, Henry Winkler? Exactamundo’!
As you’ve no doubt surmised, this is an anthology film, with segments clearly delineated by article headings and even page numbers (Pg. 14-53, etc.). And with that format, some stories are stronger than others. It was wise for Anderson to bookend the (to be kind) less riveting of the stories (the student protests) in the middle, between the delightful prison artist and police dinner sequences. The script from Anderson and co-writers Roman Coppola and Hugo Guinness is full of wit and acerbic commentary (“no crying” is written above Howitzer’s door). And then there are the exquisite visuals. Each moment is designed and framed like a classic illustration or photo essay from a bygone era. Happily, Anderson has the look of the film constantly changing, popping from black and white to color, from widescreen to standard “square” ratio, and going from rapid editing “chops” to superb “slo-mo”. Plus there’s a nod to “old school” effects with some delicate miniatures (love the “cross-section” airplanes) along with classic “hand-drawn” style “2D” animation (the a”artist renderings” are in the style of the FD covers created by the staff artist Hermes Jones played by Jason Schwartzman). It’s all engaging “eye candy’ for adults (though all ages should be fascinated). Here’s another qurky, endearing literary “love letter” from one of our most imaginative film “voices”. It’s a shame we can’t all subscribe to THE FRENCH DISPATCH, but this delight is the next best thing.
3.5 Out of 4
THE FRENCH DISPATCH is playing in select theatres
