‘The French Dispatch’ (2022) Film Review

(March 2022)

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A review for The French Dispatch for Little White Lies.

‘The French Dispatch’

HOW TO:

MAKE A SHOT LIKE WES ANDERSON

1. See a person with a penis going to the toilet to urinate.

2. A POV shot looking down to their penis peeing into the toilet bowl.

3. Change to a full body shot, a cigarette in one hand, a book in the other.

4. A POV shot looking down again.

5. Their penis is stop motion.

The French Dispatch is an anthology of love for France and the French life. It’s riddled with stereotyping, assumption, and Anderson’s own Manifesto of Style.

It’s as pretentious as any other Wes Anderson film, and sometimes just as lack lustre or empty or unfinished.

But it has a feeling to it, an unexplainable emotion throughout, from and to both me and the film itself.

The film, in style with its theme, has a certain je nais se quois that can be admired by both fans and the non-indoctrinated audiences alike.

The narrative regularly flirts with chicness, polish, and sophisticated storytelling… yet gives in to the naughtier, chaotic, and unpredictable nature of anthology, mixing in some characters and themes not yet seen in the Anderson-verse.

The film dramatically toes the line between generic ideas and unpredictable plot points. Ever an eclectic character and cast, it’s so much. Much like the taste of the poisoned radishes, it’s an odd concoction of tastes and tones that work well, by fire or by force.

A French fantasy, the film is adorned with sex, erotica, rebellion, melancholy, and gravitas.

It dabbles in the politics of youth, the oppressed creativity of the criminal and, the fantastical idea of a policemen being the protagonist of a story.

But is this all that defines France?

Revolution, suffered artists? Strong women, wrong men (young, murderers) erotica, smoking, stuck in certain time and style?

The idea of the film is well executed, and a variety of techniques (practical effects, animation) are casually scattered throughout sequences. The sets are amazing, the use of time and place and colour and style, and an effortless coolness from the cast used. Essentially, the dispatch of Frenchness upon us, the romantic and idealistic audience.

The aesthetic of the film, changing from black and white to colour rapidly, its quasi-sixties fashion and use of moving sets are, again, refreshing for Anderson. The film feels as though a grand gesture to cinema, or perhaps to Andersons directorial achievements.

A potential issue, however, is Anderson's use and placement of women. Most female characters were condemned to sexualisation. Anderson often gets away with this perceived sexism and racism and classism, as he presents his art in pink packages, much akin to Mendl’s bakery. He certainly has a particular style but is that enough for cinema now?

A common theme seems to be the suffered artist, perhaps something for the inner film critic within us all, or perhaps a tone-deaf approach to actualising Anderson’s self within his art…

An ironic accident regardless. This film is certainly an ode to himself.

Upon the final sequence of this film, I did however find myself smiling at the screen, feeling refreshed, inspired or perhaps nostalgic and pretentious towards the text. The feeling was good after the viewing, that’s surely what one hopes for after seeing a film, right?