Wes Anderson’s Ode to Journalistic Periodicals

“The French Dispatch” depicts Anderson’s love for magazine publications while bolstering his auteurism and experimentation

For the transient passerbys of many newly reopened movie theaters, there is a poster propped with a set of peculiar people resembling a chaotic clown troupe overlaying a turquoise backdrop.

It acts almost as an inverse of an impressionist painting. From afar the poster may seem innocuous and blurred. From up-close, however, the bubbling hodgepodge of people becomes distinguishable.

The poster is an homage to the album cover for The Beatles’ “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band.” The poster is also many people’s first introduction to the film which it advertises: “The French Dispatch.”

“The French Dispatch” is Wes Anderson’s newly released film and, much like its poster, it entails a dizzying array of actors and actresses such as Timothée Chalamet, Tilda Swinton, Bill Murray and Léa Seydoux.

Originally meant to be released by October 2020, the film’s worldwide release date had to be pulled back a year due to the COVID-19 pandemic. However, its one-year delay proved to not be a setback on its box office success, as the film opened with the highest theater average post-pandemic at $25,000 per location.

The film opens with the recent death of The French Dispatch’s editor-in-chief, Arthur Howitzer Jr. (played by Bill Murray). His death marks the end of the news publication in the fictional French town of Ennui.

The following storylines detail the writers and editors who are a part of this newspaper with components of the film segmented into chapters that reference article titles from the paper in precise Anderson fashion: “The Cycling Reporter,” “The Concrete Masterpiece,” “Revisions to a Manifesto” and “The Private Dining Room of the Police Commissioner.”

In addition to its homage to newspapers, each titular article highlights different interests like the arts, politics, cuisine and travel.

For many, the dysfunction and disjunction of the chapters and ensemble cast may feel confusing to audiences of the comedy-anthology. Instead, they highlight the eccentric personas and writing styles that often helm news publications. By the end of the film, all is whole as members of the publication come together as a unit.

The film’s setting, Ennui, is unique in that it is positioned in the heart of France but carries a set of American English- and French-speaking denizens. All inhabitants are able to clearly understand one another.

In addition, the film utilizes a fantasized interpretation of a post-World War II France. With Anderson’s whimsical world highlighting eccentric characters and a world tacked in a coordinated color scheme.

As the film is not based on reality, it requires the willing suspension of disbelief. The hyperbolic nature of the film caters to the absurdist humor. For instance, in the section of the film titled “The Concrete Masterpiece,” an art dealer (played by Adrien Brody) commissions a prison art gallery that goes array, as the unsellable paintings are painted on the prison walls.

In comical fashion, the art dealer airlifts the concrete paintings into an art museum based in Kansas. The situation peaks beyond absurdity so much so that it almost resembles the physical slapsticks of a Charlie Chaplin film.

For audiences aware of Anderson’s work, this film is an amalgamation of everything Anderson fans love and more. The film eclipses into new territories as Anderson meshes together techniques from his previous films and highlights new ones. Evidently, the film characterizes his continued evolution as a director.

The film is a hyper-balled energy of craftsmanship and aesthetic. Every scene, dialogue and blocking is perfectly timed at a rapid pace. In the film’s introduction, Herbsaint Sazerac (played by Owen Wilson) sputters on his bicycle to narrate the mornings of Ennui.

The city’s early morning is aptly framed in the center of the city with inhabitants strolling by, a woman on the window sill dusting off her carpet, a dog drifting away, a man smoking a pipe and water flushing out of the drain pipes. There is so much detail and life jam-packed in such a small scene.

It heads into new artistic territories with its blend of colorized scenes, black and white scenes, bits of animation and the touches of theater. Much like its characters and narrative structure, the filmmaking proves to be both hyperbolic and eccentric.

For instance, during the capture for the abduction of the Commissaire’s son, Gigi (played by Winston Ait Hellal), Anderson adopts an animation style configured with wiry black thin ink lines and flat coloring. The animation style resembles that of The New Yorker, suggesting another ode to journalists.

Despite the addition of animation, the film is not entirely open for child audience members much like Anderson’s previous stop motion animation films “Isle of Dogs” and “Fantastic Mr. Fox.” For many Anderson fans, the film’s R-rating signals the stretching of his artistry into taboo territories.

While the film warrants chaos and eccentricity, it highlights warmth and human connection. Although the workings of The French Dispatch act as a business operation, there is plenty of companionship and solidarity to be made from the writers and editors. These connections are what carry the completeness of the film.

“The French Dispatch” is everything an art lover loves: appreciation for the form, a stretch into more creative reaches and the emphasis of the human spirit.