The French Dispatch (2021)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The French Dispatch (2021) – W. Anderson

By now (and this is his 10^th feature), the Wes Anderson film is instantly recognisable. A sort of camp and twee approach with excessive attention to little details that evoke a feeling of nostalgia for the way things used to be. The look of a Richard Scarry book – but for adults (Anderson doesn’t shy away from sex or violence, but they are somehow made cute or absurd). The French Dispatch contains a triptych of stories based on the conceit of a Kansas newspaper publisher’s son (Bill Murray) moving to Ennui, France to publish stories from abroad for the readership back home.  Fast forward 30 years and Howitzer, Jr. (Murray) has passed away, stating in his will that the current issue of the magazine must be the last.  We are then treated to three stories (after a bit of a ramble by Owen Wilson): 1) Benicio del Toro as a murderer with a life sentence who becomes an abstract artist, with Léa Seydoux as his (naked) muse/prison guard, Adrien Brody as the art dealer who cultivates him and Tilda Swinton as an agent for the big collector who purchases his work; 2) Frances McDormand as a writer for the magazine who advises young people (including Timothée Chalamet and Lyna Khoudri) about their (Paris ’68 styled) manifesto and gets somewhat too involved; and 3) Jeffrey Wright as a reporter recalling an episode where he was invited to dinner by the police commissaire (Mathieu Amalric) to taste the delights of the police chef (Steve Park) who later creates poisoned delicacies (with radish) to rescue a young boy from kidnappers.  I had high hopes for the film after an opening nod to Jacques Tati but for all their spirited art direction and set decoration, alternating film stocks, stylised subtitles, and witty references, the stories tend to drag and sag in the middle, never quite cohering into a delicious confection like The Grand Budapest Hotel, 2014 (to which there is something of a family resemblance here). All told, this is a perfectly typical Wes Anderson film but not the best place to start with his oeuvre.

 

Sumo Do, Sumo Don’t (1992)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Sumo Do, Sumo Don’t (1992) – M. Suô

Amon checked this out of the library and it was fun to watch it as a family.  A classic underdogs-make-good comedy using the traditional formula that sees a bunch of oddballs rally to beat a team of obnoxious bullies.  The big difference, of course, is that the sport here is sumo wrestling which is pretty weird, even if it is Japan’s national sport.  The focus is on a university sumo team which has lost all of its members and is in danger of being de-registered.  So, the professor who serves as coach has to recruit students to join up for the year’s competitions, the students don’t have to be fat and the main character is played by former idol Masahiro Motoki (later seen in Oscar winning Departures, 2008). Comic relief is offered by Naoto Takenaka, whose character gets diarrhea every time he feels stressed.  So, you can see the type of humour on display here.  It is also surprising (or not) to see just how dated a 1992 film can be, with some of the sexist jokes falling extremely flat these days (and fortunately over the heads of the kids).  Of course, it is still a “feel good” film, because you really do want this assortment of outsiders to triumph -- and, as everyone can foresee, they do.