By John Custodio

“The French Dispatch,” written and directed by Wes Anderson (“Moonrise Kingdom”), is weird, eccentric, wacky, zany, strange, disorienting and a whole host of other synonyms and descriptors for the 107 minutes of perfectly imperfect nonsense that is a modern Anderson film.

Following a magazine publication called “The French Dispatch” based in the fictional French city of Ennui-sur-Blasé, and modeled after the real-life The New Yorker’s editor and staff, the film followers Anderson’s usual all-star cast including Bill Murray (“Ghostbusters”), Adrien Brody (“The Pianist”), Tilda Swinton (“Snowpiercer”) and Owen Wilson (“Midnight in Paris”), along with too many familiar faces to count. The film is shot in three main segments, with the start and end set apart from the stories told and acting as bookends to the film. The first follows an imprisoned modern artist, the second focuses on a students’ revolution and the third follows a police station chef. Each of the three main sections is told through the eyes of the writer covering the event, and appears to be a different method of presentation. The three sections, in order, are arts and artists, politics/poetry, and tastes and smells. 

“The French Dispatch” is a masterfully written comedy, through Anderson’s signature directly symmetrical or heavily asymmetrical camera angles and plot oddities can be a bit much for the casual comedy fan. Each segment has a unique style, with the first plot being less direct, with more observational or provocative jokes than laugh-out-loud slapstick hilarity. A strange tour of Ennui-sur-Blasé given by Wilson’s character highlights Anderson’s usual set designs, with colorfully weird slice-of-life scenes that feel both miniscule and intimate, and grand and overwhelming in detailing and size.

The first section is perhaps the strangest portion, with the journalist being an arts and life writer covering a prisoner creating modern art worth millions of dollars. Sex, money, addiction and depression are all major points to the story told in a direct story about the reality of the art trade, especially in modern art. Swinton’s character plays a small part, showing true journalistic prowess to observe and not interfere with the players. The story is told with jumps to Swinton presenting her writings at an art lecture.

The second story appears to be more of a play, with the characters acting like they are performing for a live audience and the sets appearing much flatter than the previous story, especially when set pieces are physically moved off-screen by pulley or crew. Quick-witted retorts and fast dialogue are used as the main mode of comedy, and it is an excellent and unique story that shows the French stereotype of constant protests and revolution. However, the only downside to this story was a singular actor. Timothée Chalamet (“Dune”) plays an essential role. Chalamet is an excellent actor and is a very unique person to watch, but he always appears on screen as “Timothée Chalamet” and not the character he is supposed to play. While some actors can very easily be separated from their off-screen personas, Chalamet’s presence is a bit jarring. Anderson’s movies are always full of big names like Murray or Wilson, but Chalamet has yet to claim his place as an actor that can be seen as both on-screen and off-screen personality. His acting was fantastic and he sold his character well, but I could not help but see the actor instead of the character.

Perhaps the wackiest segment of the movie, from plot to execution to the mix of media, was the third and final story. In the tastes and smells columnist’s story, a police station’s chef is followed, but the story is quickly derailed after interference from the criminal organizations of the city. Smart physical comedy, quick jumps from color to black and white to animation, strange sets and even stranger characters all sell this story as perhaps the best told in the film, if not only the funniest. This section feels more like a film than a presentation to an audience or a play like the first two, with close shots and quick jumps to animated sections that are used in place of live-action car stunts.

This soundtrack is perfect for the film, in many spots timed on-beat with events on screen to a T. While some Anderson films have iconic soundtracks, like “Moonrise Kingdom” or “Fantastic Mr. Fox,” the score exists to accentuate the film and not be as centerstage as other films. The score is still iconic to Anderson’s strange style, with clarinets, light pianos and clear rhythms dominating. The only song easily remembered from the film is “Aline” by Christophe (“Sur la route de Salina”), a French pop song released in 1965.

Especially interesting in this film is the more modern portrayal of journalists and publications. Anyone in the journalistic field should watch the film, especially those working in a newsroom or publication. As an employee of The Oswegonian, it is especially endearing to see the similarities between a real, albeit student, publication and the on-screen personas. A tired, stressed but persevering editor-in-chief similar to our own Brandon Ladd, the eccentric writers popping in and out to work on their own sections including those that haunt the office to goof around, and the unique blend of interests all working in clockwork to produce the magazine. There are college classes taught on the image of the journalist in pop culture, with one by that exact name taught by the fantastic professor Eileen Gilligan here at SUNY Oswego, and the film shows an excellent modern viewpoint. The diversity of characters, with two of the feature writers being women and the third being a gay black man show a more modern take on what the magazine, having been set in the 1950s through 1970s, was still a male-dominated field. Anderson’s take on a unique profession blends seamlessly with its real-life inspiration, albeit as an exaggerated take on it. The strange profession of journalism requires strange people, and Anderson’s satirical interpretation provides an excellent lens to view through.

While other Anderson films like “The Royal Tenenbaums” and “The Darjeeling Limited” are all still comedy-dramas but have more central and mildly depressing themes, “The French Dispatch” does not make these the focus. Instead, the film presents the information like a magazine article or a reporter would, presenting the facts and leaving interpretation mostly to the viewer instead of long-winded monologues classic in drama films.

However, while “The French Dispatch” does begin and end with an important death, it is not a depressing film. Instead, the creative paths each writer and the editor took only inspires future works, especially for viewers in journalism or broadcasting.

Image from Searchlight Pictures via YouTube