"An apocryphal fabrication"
Rather than the usual "inspired by actual events," Wes Anderson's newest satire, Asteroid City, admits it's untrue, an especially important declaration for newbies to the Andersonverse. The deadpan take on America in the 50's as it responded to alien invasions via UFO's and the chaos of changing post WWII life including love is refreshingly honest, hopeful, and fearful. As it is not his best work, Asteroid shares endearing but minor chords with The Life Aquatic an The Darjeeling Limited. For me, the pinnacle of Anderson genius still is occupied by Fantastic Mr. Fox and The Grand Budapest Hotel, not Asteroid City.
Armed with the blue sky of the desert and the stars of the cinematic universe including Tom Hanks, Scarlett Johansson, and Tilda Swinton, to name just a few of the A-listers, Anderson and writer Roman Coppola get our attention with a form of cosmic exploration of the universe and the private psyche. The meta part of the film is framed in multiple ways such as a TV show within a movie within a play, or whatever.
Per usual, Anderson tightly controls his mise en scene while the pastel coloring and acting are circumscribed by the apparent tacit agreement among the entire crew that minimalism is the mode, especially in speech where the aud must think about what's being said because actors barely reveal what they are about through body language and inflection. What to make of the strange romance between Jason Schwartzman's grieving Augie and Scarlett Johansson's suicidal movie star with attitude, is one of the challenges of a perplexed audience, which must factor in that the lead actors also play their characters in a New York teleplay (check out Brian Cranston's host as stand in for Edward R. Murrow).
Why Tom Hanks's Stanley, a hip curmudgeon, carries a gun behind his belt may take a while to figure out in the context of characters looking for control in their lives. The participants in the Junior Stargazing convention, including Augie's "brainiac" son Woodrow (Jake Ryan), are blameless in their ignorance of a romantic life, relying on adults who are not capable of controlling even their little lives. Almost everyone is at least a bit lost as they face post-WWII love of the good life juxtaposed with dangers like the periodic mushroom out in the desert.
As the complex plot winds down to a nostalgic relook at Spielberg's Close Encounters, the omnipresent pastel landscape and benign characters create a peacefulness for the film/TV production itself and the future as Anderson sees it in its multihued and vibrant human connections.
For Asteroid, few visitors and 47 denizens care about the ancient crater outside their doors. For audience, the memorabilia include a diner, motor court, single pump gas station, and occasional cop chase. Most memorable of Anderson's quirky touches is the vending machine that sells miniscule plots of land.
Besides the audiences' scratching their heads at Anderson's off-the-wall motifs, the aud must also consider that as the alien (Jeff Goldblum, who better?) leaves, the town is put in quarantine, which is like the audience itself stuck in a blended world of Anderson tropes.
It's how to deal with the vagaries and beauties of life as they are, even in an arid Southwest Americana town, that gives this city a place for the audience to stop, but thankfully not forever.
Rather than the usual "inspired by actual events," Wes Anderson's newest satire, Asteroid City, admits it's untrue, an especially important declaration for newbies to the Andersonverse. The deadpan take on America in the 50's as it responded to alien invasions via UFO's and the chaos of changing post WWII life including love is refreshingly honest, hopeful, and fearful. As it is not his best work, Asteroid shares endearing but minor chords with The Life Aquatic an The Darjeeling Limited. For me, the pinnacle of Anderson genius still is occupied by Fantastic Mr. Fox and The Grand Budapest Hotel, not Asteroid City.
Armed with the blue sky of the desert and the stars of the cinematic universe including Tom Hanks, Scarlett Johansson, and Tilda Swinton, to name just a few of the A-listers, Anderson and writer Roman Coppola get our attention with a form of cosmic exploration of the universe and the private psyche. The meta part of the film is framed in multiple ways such as a TV show within a movie within a play, or whatever.
Per usual, Anderson tightly controls his mise en scene while the pastel coloring and acting are circumscribed by the apparent tacit agreement among the entire crew that minimalism is the mode, especially in speech where the aud must think about what's being said because actors barely reveal what they are about through body language and inflection. What to make of the strange romance between Jason Schwartzman's grieving Augie and Scarlett Johansson's suicidal movie star with attitude, is one of the challenges of a perplexed audience, which must factor in that the lead actors also play their characters in a New York teleplay (check out Brian Cranston's host as stand in for Edward R. Murrow).
Why Tom Hanks's Stanley, a hip curmudgeon, carries a gun behind his belt may take a while to figure out in the context of characters looking for control in their lives. The participants in the Junior Stargazing convention, including Augie's "brainiac" son Woodrow (Jake Ryan), are blameless in their ignorance of a romantic life, relying on adults who are not capable of controlling even their little lives. Almost everyone is at least a bit lost as they face post-WWII love of the good life juxtaposed with dangers like the periodic mushroom out in the desert.
As the complex plot winds down to a nostalgic relook at Spielberg's Close Encounters, the omnipresent pastel landscape and benign characters create a peacefulness for the film/TV production itself and the future as Anderson sees it in its multihued and vibrant human connections.
For Asteroid, few visitors and 47 denizens care about the ancient crater outside their doors. For audience, the memorabilia include a diner, motor court, single pump gas station, and occasional cop chase. Most memorable of Anderson's quirky touches is the vending machine that sells miniscule plots of land.
Besides the audiences' scratching their heads at Anderson's off-the-wall motifs, the aud must also consider that as the alien (Jeff Goldblum, who better?) leaves, the town is put in quarantine, which is like the audience itself stuck in a blended world of Anderson tropes.
It's how to deal with the vagaries and beauties of life as they are, even in an arid Southwest Americana town, that gives this city a place for the audience to stop, but thankfully not forever.