The French Dispatch (2021)
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The audience were uncertain. Some found themselves to be enchanted, surprised and delighted by the grandiloquent expository characters and bento box mise en scene of Ennui-sur-Blasé. Mellifluous to some, discordant to others. The restless ones rolled their eyes and whispered to each other, ever certain that their own utterances were indeed more delicious and valuable than those of the presentation they now patronized. True, it was the style the artist was known for, technically excellent as always but many believed that he had gone too far and had contorted himself beyond their understanding of acceptable limitations. One detractor (a reporter for a rival publication whose name I shall not share for I do not wish her ill) decreed that "...the ironic smelling of his own farts has now become a misguided expedition up his own ass". I found myself mystified by these coprophilic antagonists around me. I went outside and smoked a cigarette against a backlit doorway, and wondered what might become of the world if joyless voices such as these became so clamorous that we could hear nothing else. I then took inventory, arranging my possessions before me in a grid and spoke their names out loud before returning everything to my vintage designer briefcase, then walked animatedly (literally and figuratively) into the night.
I appreciate Wes Anderson's shot composition, but I wasn't a fan of the storytelling in the French Dispatch. A little too stream-of-consciousness. I usually found the asides frustrating and distracting, not charming. The juxtaposition of shots felt repetitive. Not his strongest movie.
As of now, my least favorite Wes Anderson film. Extremely uninteresting stories.
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In 2 official lists
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This movie ranks #96 in iCheckMovies's 2020s Top 100
This movie ranks #579 in Cahiers du Cinéma's Annual Top 10 Lists