The French Dispatch: A Review
Disclaimer: This article contains minor spoilers for the film The French Dispatch.
Wes Anderson has become known in his 25 year career as the master of symmetrical, pastel aesthetics and quirky, stylized dialogue. With big hits like The Grand Budapest Hotel and film student favorites like The Royal Tenenbaums, Anderson has carved himself a niche that appeals to both the indie underground and the mainstream market. His newest project, The French Dispatch, has been highly anticipated for a long time now, given its year-long COVID-19 delay.
The French Dispatch finally premiered at the Cannes Film Festival in July and will be released to the United States public on October 22. I had the opportunity to watch The French Dispatch a couple weeks ago at the BFI London Film Festival, in London’s infamous Southbank Centre at Royal Festival Hall. As I am still getting used to going to the cinema again, seeing The French Dispatch in a festival setting was exhilarating. The audience was full of fellow movie-lovers and Wes Anderson himself gave an introduction (virtually, because he is currently filming his next picture!). As for the movie itself, The French Dispatch is… fun! Warning—there are very minor spoilers ahead, if you can even classify a movie with no plot as having spoilers.
A self-proclaimed “love letter to journalists,” The French Dispatch is divided into a series of little vignettes. The film begins with an animated opening credits, a crooney French song called “Aline,” sung by Jarvis Cocker and animated by Javi Aznarez. Immediately the tone of the rest of the film was established—playful and melodramatic, charming and stylish. Then the rest of the movie begins. The titular “The French Dispatch” is a magazine based in the fictional French town of Ennuis-sur-Blasé but read by Midwestern Americans. Created by Bill Murray’s Arthur Howitzer Jr., “The French Dispatch” is a home for several individualistic journalists whose stories center around the local Ennuis citizens. The film is modeled in the making of the last issue of “The French Dispatch” after Arthur Howitzer Jr. 's death.
The first story is the smallest, perhaps the most forgettable in comparison to the larger-scale stories, but nonetheless endearing. Owen Wilson rides around on his bicycle as the travel writer Herbsaint Sazerac, giving us a little insight into the daily goings of Ennuis. Following his narrative is that of Tilda Swinton’s J.K.L. Berensen, who writes about a convict artist’s rise to fame after a passionate love affair with a prison guard and a sleazy art curator. This vignette is by far the best one—the characters (played by Benicio del Toro, Léa Seydoux, and Adrien Brody) are the most developed and most sympathetic, with the perfect amount of quirk and plot. Next is the article by Lucinda Krementz, played by Frances McDormand. She follows a group of student-revolutions led by Timothée Chalamet. A clear homage to Jean-Luc Godard’s La Chinoise, this story is complete with the typical absurdities that Anderson’s usual young, God-complex characters have. The last article is by Roebuck Wright, played by gentle Jeffrey Wright. Though Wright’s delivery is strong (you can choose which Wright I’m talking about), this story is the most garbled and least developed. It’s sort of about a chef, sort of about a kidnapping, and sort of about Willem Dafoe… but the motives and throughline become unclear and messy the more it progresses. Finally, after all the articles have finished, the journalists and other staff members of “The French Dispatch” gather around to write the obituary of Arthur Howitzer Jr.
This last scene was the most disappointing to me—the journalists all call out random little details to write about as the audio fades away and the movie concludes. There is no time given to the obituary, but I believe there should have been to give a cohesive throughline to all of the stories. That is what defines The French Dispatch: though all of the little vignettes are entertaining and visually appealing, there is very little coherence between them. I’m sure that this was Anderson’s idea, alluding to the different segments of a real magazine… but this is not a real magazine, this is a film.
Arthur Howitzer Jr. is sprinkled throughout the film at the end of each article as he is reviewing them, making him the core of the magazine and the root of each journalists’ journey. But his death, which is the catalyst of the movie, is glazed over at the end. If his obituary was given the same (or more) time and attention as the other vignettes, then not only will his death and relationship with the magazine be stronger, but the bittersweetness of the end of “The French Dispatch” would be much more impactful. Wes Anderson knows that printed journalism is dying, so why does he not give any attention to it?
On a positive, lighter note, one of the best aspects of The French Dispatch was the use of mixed-media. 35mm color, black and white, and 2D animation all blend together seamlessly in a fantastic way. How wonderful to see a Wes Anderson film in traditional animation! Anderson is experimenting with style to an extent that we have not seen before, and that makes his future projects that much more exciting. His creativity and dedication to the filmmaking art form is extremely thorough, even if the story is not his strongest.
With The French Dispatch opening in theatres soon—by the time you are reading this, it might be out already—I urge you to go see this movie at your local cinema. Like printed journalism, cinemas are also dying, and it is our job as an audience to keep them alive. I guarantee you will have an excellent time swept up in the world of The French Dispatch.
Cover Photo by 20th Century Studios and TFP Productions. Edited by Madison Case.
