Stars: 4/5
Wes Anderson’s new film The French Dispatch is a visually stunning and fast-paced delectable tribute to journalism. As always, Anderson sculpts his own universe, this time consisting of an aesthetically-pleasing blend of theatrical and filmic settings and techniques.
The film's structure takes on a Tarantino-inspired chronology, utilising ‘chapters’ to navigate through the film. The narrative consists of three stories, each one based on a feature article by one of the magazine's star writers. This anthology structure was intriguing and playful to begin with but caused problems at points, with each section being unbalanced in time frame; the first story spanning 30 to 40 minutes, and the subsequent ones being much shorter.
It was a shame by the time the film progressed to the final story, a fast-paced kidnapping heist, our patience is somewhat worn out and the repetitive structure becomes predictable and slightly tiresome.
The first story we are introduced to is a criminally insane artist – Benicio Del Toro – sentenced to life imprisonment. This section, the longest of the three, cleverly ties in theatrical techniques, such as freeze-frames and an abundance of direct address, paired with Anderson’s signature close-up shots and topsy-turvy camera compositions.
In the second instalment we see Timothee Chalamet take on the role of a student protestor and mildly conceited chess-player, paired on screen with Frances McDormand, a reporter. This was my least favourite storyline and almost slowed down the pace of the film, but was ultimately saved by the magnificent performances from both Timothee and Frances.
The last story was by far my favourite; intertwining animation with live action. It is faced-paced, witty, chaotic, full of abstract shots and works really well at reviving the film's momentum. Again, this section is packed with famous actors and actresses from Saoirse Ronan to Edward Norton.
The film cleverly tackles themes of loneliness, ageing, death, politics and art, all balanced with his witty dialogue and charming style. One thing I particularly loved about this film was the variety of filmic techniques. We are thrown from white back to colour, between animation and live action, and see a variety of aspect ratios, drawings, text and dialogue.
Anderson even attempts to blur the lines between theatre and film with an abundance of direct address, wobbly freeze frames and the movement of characters across and through the screen – giving the illusion of live theatre right before us. Every moment is exciting and despite the clunky chapters, the film still maintains a fast-paced forward movement.
If you are a fan of Anderson and his exquisite style, you will definitely indulge in this quirky masterpiece. Although not my favourite of his work, it is definitely worth a watch and is up there with one of his most well-constructed and visually stunning movies.
Edited by Hannah Youds