3 minute read
“The French Dispatch”
MAIN CAST:Mathieu Amalric, Bob Balaban, Adrien Brody, Timothée Chalamet, Willem Dafoe, Benicio Del Toro, Rupert Friend, Anjelica Huston, Lyna Khoudri, Frances McDormand, Elisabeth Moss, Bill Murray, Edward Norton, Steve Park, Tony Revolori, Saoirse Ronan, Liev Schreiber, Jason Schwartzman, Léa Seydoux, Lois Smith, Tilda Swinton, Christoph Waltz, Owen Wilson, Henry Winkler, Jeffrey Wright CASTING BY:Olivia Brittain, Deborah Maxwell Dion, Matthew Glasner, and Jina Jay DIRECTED BY: Wes Anderson WRITTEN BY:Wes Anderson DISTRIBUTED BY: Searchlight Pictures
THE FACES IN WES ANDERSON’S MOVIES ARE
usually recognizable. He relies on the familiarity of his merry band of highly accomplished actors to master the unique tone of his films. Case in point: his latest, “The French Dispatch,” an amalgam of short stories inspired by the writers and writing of the New Yorker.
In true Anderson fashion, the details are intricate and truthful, but the story is stripped of any historical or political framework. It’s up to the actors to bring authenticity and fit into the narrative’s quirks, all while maintaining those distinct Anderson-isms. This ensemble works together harmoniously.
The film’s first story, “The Concrete Masterpiece,” features deadpan performances from Benicio Del Toro and Léa Seydoux as an incarcerated painter and his prison guard–cum-muse. The two actors work in sync, both committed to stilted movements and internalized emotions, their faces blank canvases for the audience to project whatever they think the characters are feeling. Their poker-faced turns are supported by outwardly comic moments from Adrien Brody, Bob Balaban, and Henry Winkler as greedy art dealers trying to make a profit. The great Lois Smith brings quiet eccentricity to a rich art collector. The whole tale is framed by a lecture given at a Kansas arts center by Tilda Swinton as critic J.K.L. Berensen, in another hilariously offbeat turn.
While writers are merely the narrator of the first segment, they rule the other two vignettes. “Revisions to a Manifesto” is told through the eyes of essayist Lucinda Krementz (Frances McDormand) as she reports on a student revolt reminiscent of the May 1968 demonstrations in France. She becomes enmeshed in an affair with its utopian leader Zeffirelli (Timothée Chalamet), who also has eyes for his more pragmatic comrade-in-arms Juliette (Lyna Khoudri). McDormand is an expert at delivering Anderson’s trademark non sequiturs, and she uses her expressive face to cast many a withering glance. Both Chalamet and Khoudri are new to the filmmaker’s troupe, but they fit in perfectly as they bicker and argue their way toward romance.
One performance that distinguishes itself among the ensemble: Jeffrey Wright as food writer Roebuck Wright in “The Private Dining Room of the Police Commissioner,” conveying a
LYNA KHOUDRI, FRANCES MCDORMAND, AND TIMOTHÉE CHALAMET
mix of James Baldwin, Tennessee Williams, and A.J. Liebling. Whether using his lyrical voice to recite a story or showing warm emotion when his character faces injustice, Wright’s performance is an impassive yet stirring marvel. He’s complemented by Steve Park as a world-renowned chef and Mathieu Amalric as a police commissioner trying to solve the abduction of his son; Edward Norton and Saoirse Ronan are among the kidnappers. All give subdued, comical, sad performances that usher the film toward its melancholy, moving conclusion.
There’s also an introductory story featuring Owen Wilson as “The Cycling Reporter.” All of the segments, narrated in Anjelica Huston’s unmistakable voice, are framed within the story of the writers and editors of the titular magazine coming together to write the obituary of their beloved editor, Arthur Howitzer Jr. (Bill Murray). Peppered throughout are familiar Anderson faces (Jason Schwartzman, Liev Schreiber, Tony Revolori, and Willem Dafoe), as well as newcomers (Elisabeth Moss, Rupert Friend, Christoph Waltz, and more). Taken all together, this is the definition of a tour de force ensemble performance. —MURTADA ELFADL
