Asteroid City

Even if you're not familiar with the works of Wes Anderson, you probably still have a pretty good idea what his movies look like. His visual style is so distinctive and well-known that it's recently inspired a wave of parody videos on social media channels that show people doing mundane things in Anderson's signature aesthetic, which famously includes perfectly symmetrical shots, washed out pastels, vintage clothing and handmade props. Because Anderson spends so much time carefully composing the visual elements of his movies, he is often accused of putting style over substance, a claim I find to be tremendously off base. All of his movies take care to tell stories full of emotion, even if it's not always front and center. His strongest works, like The Royal Tenenbaums (2001), The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014) and Moonrise Kingdom (2012), can be downright powerful. That being said, I can certainly understand how some might feel that Anderson's multiple visual storytelling quirks can overwhelm his narrative and thematic purposes, leaving viewers to wonder what point, if any, he is trying to get at. Anderson has also seemingly doubled down on his stylistic bag of tricks in his more recent work, further frustrating those who feel the 54-year-old director might be flying an empty plane on autopilot.

"Asteroid City" probably isn't going to change many people's opinions of Anderson's work, as it contains all of the things we've come to expect: Anderson's signature visual palette (incredibly clean, even when set in the middle of a desert), an immaculately constructed set full of perfectly-fonted signs and whimsical props, and a ridiculously large collection of A-list Hollywood actors exchanging quips in the same deadpan manner. Set in a retro-futuristic version of the 1950s, the story follows a group of various characters who converge for a Junior Stargazer convention in a small fictional desert town, where they are soon quarantined after the sudden appearance of a UFO.

The narrative structure might be the most complex that Anderson has attempted, starting with a documentary-style program (hosted by Bryan Cranston) that introduces and then shows a televised version of the fictional play "Asteroid City" while also regularly mixing in "real life" scenes of the lives of the actors within the televised play. It can take a bit for the viewer to find their bearings in all of this post-modern architecture, and it might be next to impossible to suss out all of the character connections after only one viewing. This might already sound like a lot of work for the viewer (and it is), but it's essential to understanding what Anderson is trying to say; if you don't engage with it, the movie isn't going to feel like it's saying much, and you'll have to get by with enjoying the usual visual beauty and fun character interactions. It's a risky gambit by Anderson, as it's asking the viewer to connect emotionally with the feelings of a character that is acting in a movie within a movie.

The story is full of characters who are obsessed with collecting knowledge in an attempt to explain the seemingly unexplainable. The group of brilliant junior stargazers wants explanations for what the alien wants and what its seemingly random actions mean. Augie Steenbeck (Jason Schwartzman) wants to know what the purpose of his wife's death is, while the in-movie actor playing Steenbeck (also Schwartzman) wants to know why his lover, the playwright who wrote "Asteroid City" (Edward Norton), seemingly died in an automobile accident.

Anderson also asks you to consider similar questions as they pertain to the creation of art. The lead actor of "Asteroid City" doesn't understand the play and desperately wants to. The playwright himself doesn't understand the motivations of his own characters. As all of these characters are given "purpose" by Anderson himself, you could see it as Anderson questioning where his own inspiration comes from, or even him questioning the viewer as to how and why they interact with his creations. There's even a reading of the movie where you could say it's trying to make sense of how we have responded to the COVID-19 pandemic. Anderson is grappling with all these giant, unanswerable questions, suggesting that the only way to take solace is to put one foot in front of the other and do the best we can. Like the unfinished highway overpass in the movie, sometimes our attempts at discovery won't go anywhere, but it's the best we can do to chip away at the unknown.

And even though we've gotten so used to Anderson's style, it's still worth noting that it's extremely impressive. There's no denying that every single frame is considered and executed at a level of mastery that people parodying the style on TikTok could only dream of approaching. Anderson is so completely in control at this point in his career, and I feel people are really taking his moviemaking skills for granted. Every costume is perfectly arranged and pressed, every prop is arranged like it's being photographed for a magazine, every grain of sand in this artificially created desert landscape is right where it should be, creating a world that operates as the most opulent stage play set ever conceived. Even the few computer-generated touches (such as the alien and a roadrunner) are done for laughs but are still seamlessly integrated to the overall aesthetic.

It's a thematically dense movie that demands multiple rewatches, rewarding the viewer with each layer that they manage to pull away. Time will tell where this will stand in Anderson's overall filmography, but for now, it's exhilarating to watch a master continue to take big swings, even while further perfecting a style that only he can truly pull off.