The French Dispatch (2021)

Directed by: Wes Anderson | 108 minutes | comedy, drama | Actors: Léa Seydoux, Timothée Chalamet, Christoph Waltz, Saoirse Ronan, Jeffrey Wright, Anjelica Huston, Adrien Brody, Owen Wilson, Edward Norton, Tilda Swinton, Elisabeth Moss, Willem Dafoe, Bill Murray, Benicio Del Toro, Rupert Friend, Frances McDormand Alex Lawther, Liev Schreiber, Henry Winkler, Jason Schwartzman, Mathieu Amalric, Griffin Dunne, Bob Balaban, Toheeb Jimoh

‘The French Dispatch’ just lands on your doorstep with Bill Murray as soft growl and monthly editor Arther Howitzer Jr., Tilda Swinton as flamboyant super-academic JKL Berendsen, Jason Schwartzman as snooping Hermes Jones, Liev Schreiber as Dick Cavett’s brother, Saoirse Ronan as cynical First Showgirl, Timothée Chalamet as college kid (Franco) Zeffirelli, Adrien Brody as devious businessman Julian Cadazio, Owen Wilson as gonzo bike journalist Herbsaint Sezerac; Edward Norton as The Chauffeur; Benicio Del Toro as Suffering Artist Moses Rosenthaler; Lea Seydoux as strict muse Simone (de Beauvoir); Frances McDormand as flying reporter Lucinda Krementz; Lyna Khondri as Anne ‘Juliette’ Wiazemsky; Jeffrey Wright as literati Roebuck Wright; Mathieu Amalaric as scheming Commissaire; Stephen Park as master chief Lieutenant Nescafier; Christopher Waltz as casual padding Paul Duval; Elisabeth Moss as Wallpaper Alumna; Willem Dafoe as Albert the Abacus; Bob Balaban as the uninvited Uncle Nick, et cetera, et cetera.

The new one by Wes Anderson is a virtuoso summary of an established oeuvre. His regular cast of actors, who only seem to be expanding, all get their moment in the spotlight. Even though some rolls are only part of a visual joke in the top right corner of ‘Where’s Waldo?’-esque image compositions.

At least as important is the crew behind the scenes in this dryly comical story maze. In addition to frequently appearing as a character, Schwartzman (Francis Ford Coppola’s cousin) was co-writer of an Anderson film for the third time. Once again, the now seventy-year-old Robert Yeoman guarantees the extremely meticulous cinematography. Yeoman once worked twice for William Friedkin, the maker of, among others, ‘The Exorcist’ (1977), and with director Gus van Sant on ‘Drugstore Cowboy’ (1989). Also, art director, and contemporary of Wes, Adam Stockhausen should not remain unnamed. Since ‘Moonrise Kingdom’ (2012) he takes care of the miniature-like sets. Stockhausen also did production design for ‘Twelve Years a Slave’ (Steve McQueen, 2012) and now works more often with Steven Spielberg. In addition, editor-in-chief Andrew Weisblum shuttles between projects by Anderson and Darren Aronofsky, of ‘Fantastic Mr. Fox’ (2009) to ‘Black Swan’ (2010) and from ‘Mother!’ (2017) to ‘Isle of Dogs’ (2018). These people therefore belong not only to the Anderson clique, but in their specialization also to the crème de la crème of Hollywood.

The professional stability ensures a pleasant cinema visit. You can marvel at the crazy characters and mustaches, ingenious sets and slightly absurd cartoonish situations. In the background, the film revolves around three stories from a monthly literary magazine à la The New Yorker. There, if you’re interested in literature, the greats of the world are free to write about the regular chef of the Paris gendarmerie, an artist convicted of murder and the student protests in L’Ennui in the 1960s. However, the plot almost doesn’t matter, because even more than Anderson’s previous work ‘The French Dispatch’ lives on wacky and sophisticated visual asides and countless references to art, culture and themselves.

The triptych of stories is full of bittersweet memories of a time and place that is no more. And the question of whether that world in ‘The French Dispatch’ is somewhat grounded in our reality is irrelevant. This production shows a very nostalgic version of a metropolis on the Seine and seems purely inspired by film memories. The city in the film is called L’Ennui for a reason. If French director Jean-Luc Godard hadn’t used primary colors so obsessively in his work, the student protest segment “Revisions to a Manifesto,” for example, might never have existed. ‘The French Dispatch’ also passionately longs for the melancholy cinema of Marcel Carné and Jacques Prévert (‘Le jour se lève’, 1939) and the playful films of Jacques Tati (‘Playtime’, 1967, and ‘Mon oncle’, 1958).

Not unexpectedly, ‘The French Dispatch’ hardly offers any pathos, it is almost as thin as a comic book. American comic book makers are eager to make the switch to 3D Hollywood, Anderson seems to be blowing the other way, back to one of the roots of cinema, the 2D storyboard. Besides, what is this private party really about besides the fetish for anything that can be treated with nostalgia? Doesn’t Wes Anderson withdraw more and more into his personal playground, just like contemporary Quentin Tarantino? Each time you get the same dish served, but seasoned slightly differently. Where is the challenge for the viewer here?

Yet the film does not collapse like a plum pudding. ‘The French Dispatch’ is in fact flambé with unparalleled skill. It is so light that it is easily digestible with a touch of booze. Even the mildly emotional chaos of melancholy is calculated in a way that it will not alarm anyone. In case you have already forgotten how light as a feather an Anderson is, this film is once again a confirmation (the explicit nude and comic-like brutal violence have never been shown before!). Thus ‘The French Dispatch’ is an ultimate compilation of Anderson’s oeuvre, a picture book of extraordinary proportions. Until the next one arrives, of course.