Movie Review: That Wes Anderson Magic is Back in 'The French Dispatch'

The French Dispatch is a series of quirky stories from the master of quirky stories, Wes Anderson. These stories originate from The French Dispatch, the off-shoot of a newspaper in Kansas that was specifically created and headquartered in the town of Ennui, France. If you’re wondering why a newspaper in the state of Kansas has an office in a little known city in France, perhaps the whimsy of The French Dispatch is not for you. Such questions about such things have no place in the fanciful universe of The French Dispatch.

Writer-Director Wes Anderson’s story is broken into several different stories within the pages of what will be the final edition of The French Dispatch. The owner of The French Dispatch, Arthur Howitzer (Bill Murray) has died and in his will he’s specifically asked for the presses to not merely be stopped but stopped and melted down so that they may never publish another word. Why? There is no explanation for it, one could infer that he simply cannot imagine The French Dispatch without himself on the masthead.

Before Arthur passes on however, we are treated to some of the stories that are to be published alongside his lengthy obituary in the final issue of The French Dispatch. The first story is a bicycle tour of Ennui and you must see just how literal that description is. Reporter Herbsaint Sazerac is on a bike and he does take us through the city of Ennui but also, in his description of life in Ennui, he also captures the feeling of Ennui, defined by Webster's Dictionary as: a feeling of listlessness and dissatisfaction arising from a lack of occupation or excitement. If this joke isn't for you, The French Dispatch is not for you.

The immaculate set design, the beautifully rendered sets, Wilson cycling about and narrating the whole way, it's just so much fun. Sazerac sets the scene of Ennui in both meanings and I was smiling the whole time. Wilson’s effortless charisma and Anderson’s imaginative, DIY approach to design just tickles me. I may not love all of Anderson’s flights of fancy but The French Dispatch proves to be one where I was never not entertained.

Our second story follows reporter J.K.L Berensen as she delights a crowd with the strange history of artist Moses Rosenthaler (Benicio Del Toro). Moses has risen to prominence while also being a convicted murderer and spending his life behind bars. Though he’d been an artist as a child, he’d given it up until he was brought to a therapy art class in the prison. This art therapy is overseen by Simone (Lea Seydoux), a prison guard who becomes Moses’ muse and his lover.

Moses’ art is discovered while in prison by art patron and tax dodger, Julien Cadazio (Adrian Brody). Upon seeing Moses’s work he immediately contacts his Uncles, played wonderfully, and mostly silently, by Henry Winkler and Bob Balaban, and immediately commits them and their art gallery to modern art as inspired by Moses. Together they will create a myth and legend around Moses that will make his work skyrocket in value. However, they must also deal with Moses’ temper and unwillingness to paint on a deadline.

This section of The French Dispatch is a send up of the art world in the most loving way. It’s clear that Wes Anderson sees a little of himself in the way that modern art is treated as a commodity before it is even created. Anderson himself has had to work through and around what is expected of him and dealt with the pressures of those expectations. He’s also done his best to defy expectations and upend the people who wish to profit from his art. It’s cheeky and sneakily subversive and it’s a lot of fun to watch, especially Brody who ties himself in knots trying to make sense of Moses and capitalize on his work.

Frances McDormand and Timothee Chalamet star in what is the most pedestrian story in The French Dispatch. McDormand plays reporter Lucinda Krementz who is covering the story of student revolutionaries in Ennui. Lucinda is fascinated by the divisive and fractured student group that is battling the local government and oppressive rules of their college life all while battling each other over what their actual priorities are. This section of The French Dispatch carries the light tone of the first two chapters as well as the artfulness but it lacks the fun. It’s just a little sleepier than the first two chapters.

That may be a function of the place in the movie that this section, called Revisions to a Manifesto is located in the movie. Revisions functions as a breather from the energetic The Concrete Masterpiece and the final story, The Private Dining Room of the Police Commissioner, a dizzying story involving a kidnapping, shootouts, a car chase and the unendingly odd and delightful performance of Jeffrey Wright who makes a striking debut in the Wes Anderson universe. Wright is right at home in the outlandish and artful world of Wes Anderson.

Wright plays Roebuck Wright, a character loosely based on the brilliant James Baldwin. Roebuck is appearing on a talk show, hosted by an unnamed Liev Schreiber, and is regaling the audience with his adventure while having dinner with the local Police Commissioner, played by Mathieu Amalric. In the course of dinner, being prepared by the world’s greatest prison chef, Lt Nescaffier (Stephen Park), the Commissioner’s son is kidnapped by a Chauffeur (Edward Norton) and held for ransom by the Chauffeur and his team of fellow criminals, including a showgirl played by Saorise Ronan.

Much happens here and at a remarkable pace. Much of the action, from the shootout to the elaborate car chase, all occur in classic hand-drawn animation and it is a gloriously dreamy set piece. The Private Dining Room of the Police Commissioner is a wonderfully colorful and wild ride that not only uses animation but seemingly random shifts from color to black and white and all of it serving this dazzlingly paced story that was initially just supposed to be a food review but became a bizarre and ever more wacky action movie.

As is always the case with Wes Anderson, The French Dispatch is an acquired taste. I fell in love with it immediately as the dreamy black and white atmosphere switched from black and white to color, the pace lifted and fell, and the wildly imaginative yet straightforward stories unfolded. The French Dispatch is a trip, it’s a thrilling high wire act of unexpected story twists, wildly colorful and charismatic characters and an ensemble of some of the finest actors on the planet each fully committed to bringing Anderson’s quirky story to life.

On top of the wondrous imagination on display, The French Dispatch is also a love letter to reporters, writers and storytellers of the past. As mentioned, Roebuck Wright is a wonderfully witty tribute to the late James Baldwin, while each of the writer characters in The French Dispatch can find some inspiration in foreign correspondents of the 1940s, 50s and 60s who brought Europe to America in the most wonderful ways. Wilson’s Sazerac is dedicated to the memory of The New Yorker’s Joseph Mitchell while Bill Murray’s character is based on the founder of The New Yorker Harold Ross.

In a time when so many have stopped valuing the written word or the wondrous ways in which foreign correspondents and travel writers brought the world home in the most unique and wordy fashion, The French Dispatch is a lovely reminder of great storytelling. It’s a love letter to a style of writing and reporting that may still exist in some small quarters but is not nearly as present as it once was. The French Dispatch is thus not merely entertaining, it’s a valuable remembrance of when we treasured journalists who could bring the world back to you with well chosen, well edited words.