Photo Courtesy of NME
“The French Dispatch,” the latest film from critically acclaimed director Wes Anderson, was released in theaters on Friday, Oct. 22, and has been a box office hit in the arthouse world. The film, which has been in the works since 2018, features a star-studded cast, including Bill Murray, Owen Wilson, Frances McDormand, Tilda Swinton and Timothée Chalamet. The British Film Institute described Anderson’s latest work as a “love letter to journalism,” with it being heavily influenced by the director’s love for the magazine The New Yorker.
The film takes on an interesting form, presenting itself to the audience as if it is a newspaper issue of The French Dispatch that has come to life. This issue in particular is commemorating editor Arthur Howitzer Jr. (Murray) who has died of a heart attack. He has asked in his will that the final publication of the paper be a farewell issue. There are three separate stories included in the paper, along with an obituary for the editor. Each section features different journalists telling their stories with no correlation to the others presented. While the anthology structure is fun and keeps the audience on its toes, it does lead to some portions of the film being more enjoyable than others.
The first story presented, titled “The Concrete Masterpiece,” is narrated by J.K.L. Berenson (Swinton) and follows the story of Moses Rosenthaler (Benicio del Toro), a tortured artist who is serving time in prison for murder; it is engaging from beginning to end. Rosenthaler develops a relationship with Simone, a prison guard who becomes his muse. With her help, he is inspired to paint a nude portrait of her that catches the eye of art dealer Julien Cadazio, creating a name for himself among other artists. Because of this, his paintings become sought after, but he struggles to find the inspiration to continue creating his art. Although short, the story is strong enough to be the subject of a feature-length film and leaves the audience pleasantly wanting more. Swinton’s comedic timing throughout the telling of the tale also serves as a plus, providing some laughs and turning what could have been presented as a serious and depressing story as a light and fun one.
The most memorable of the three stories would have to be “Revisions to a Manifesto” by Lucinda Krementz (McDormand), in which the journalist presents the story of a group of student protesters led by a self-proclaimed revolutionary, Zeffirelli (Chalamet). Although she wants to maintain journalistic integrity, Krementz finds herself romantically involved with Zeffirelli and helps him write the manifesto he will use to lead his fellow college students. The story features a square off between the students and the police in the form of a chess match. Although it may seem silly, Anderson manages to maintain the tension of the scene and keeps the audience on the edge of their seats for the outcome. McDormand and Chalamet are a delight to watch on screen, and together their characters’ unexpected relationship captures the attention of the audience for the entirety of the story.
Other portions of the film, including a travelogue from travel writer Herbsaint Sazerac (Wilson) and the third piece entitled “The Private Dining Room of the Police Commissioner” by food journalist Roebuck Wright (Jeffrey Wright), fail to live up to the other sections. It goes without saying that the film is visually stunning and delightfully colorful, something that has become a staple of Anderson’s filmmaking, and it features a whimsical score composed by Alexandre Desplat. The director, therefore, still creates a charming film that is overall enjoyable to add to his ever-growing repertoire.
“The French Dispatch” is out in theaters now.
