The French Dispatch

If Anderson does sometimes lean too far into his own highly-constructed vision, The French Dispatch is at its best when fragments of honest-to-goodness, imperfect life shine through his perfect compositions.

It's not lightweight, and it's not silly, and there's a moment of genuine pathos at the end of the third story that's quite unlike anything Anderson has ever done.

The overall effect of all this is a particularly whimsical form of escapism -- as if an excessive knowledge of reality has brought on a state of nostalgia for a world that never was.

It has everything that we've come to expect from Wes Anderson-carefully crafted aesthetics, perfect color palettes, and intricate tableaux of actors.

The three major episodes in The French Dispatch are of roughly equivalent length, weight, and quality, although to be honest I only really liked the first one.

If you come to The French Dispatch loving Anderson, there's much to continue loving here.

The film is a tribute to a world in possible extinction, the written press. The publications of The French Dispatch, divide the narrative mainly into three stories, who corresponds to a section of the magazine, turning it into a kind of anthology.

The film has an incredible cast and intricately, terrifically detailed production design that doesn’t feel real, but is practical and utilized in delightful ways. It’s a sensational fantasy.

While perhaps The French Dispatch is not Anderson’s most free-flowing film, it is an amalgamation of everything Anderson has put to film to date, drawing on his love of cartoons, newspapers and French culture (in particular cinema).

Like the very best of Wes Anderson, The French Dispatch is large and contains multitudes.