In the French town of Ennui-sur-Blase, American Arthur established a newspaper, The French Dispatch. After he dies from a heart attack, three stories of his journalists are told. 1) Moses Rosenthaler is in prison for killing two people in a bar, but art dealer Cadazio thinks he is a great painter. Moses paints nudes of Simone, his prison guard. Moses quits art for 3 years, and then resumes with a fresco on a wall, which is useless for exhibition. 2) Reporter Krementz sleeps with student rebel Zeffirelli, and even revises his manifesto. She persuades him to be with revolutionary girl Juliette. 3) Reporter Wright recalls how police officer Nescaffier resolved the kidnapping of his son by giving the criminals poison in the relish, which the kid avoided because he never liked it.
Anthology “The French Dispatch” again displays the director’s highly elaborated iconography and several narrative levels through the triple story about journalism, but it also seems that Wes Anderson became a prisoner of his own style. He doesn’t care about characters or plot, as he never progressed in that area, and thus has to rely more and more on the exponential growth of his spectacularly eccentric style, yet unless it is uniquely creative, as it was in “The Grand Budapest Hotel” (in that film, even an animated dancing man appeared in the closing credits, since Anderson was so high on inspiration that he could do whatever he wanted there), even that shows limits here. All the three stories are good as an art-film, yet none of them grip to the fullest, nor do they have humanity. Anderson’s excessive details and bizarre subplots often seem unnecessary, since they don’t lead to a specific point. The best idea is probably the sympathetic one where painter Moses, who is in jail, paints nudes of Simone (excellent Lea Seydoux), his prison guard (!), who thus flip-flops between being his model and his “captor”. The jokes are too episodic and lack an elaborate touch, yet some of them have charm, such as editor Arthur firing a youngster in his office, and adds: “No crying in my office!”, as the camera lifts up to reveal the sign “No crying” above the door. In another, revolutionary youngster Juliette admits that she is a virgin, and Zeffirelli says: “I am a virgin, too, except for Mrs. Krementz”. A “Matrix”-style scene in which camera drives across “frozen” people during a prison riot is interesting, as Anderson likes to play with the visual style. While again filled with stylish shot compositions, the movie lacks a soul that makes it come alive.
Grade:++
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