Movie Review

The French Dispatch honors journalism as only Wes Anderson can

There are many filmmakers who have their own distinct styles, but over the past 20 years, no director has been more inimitable than Wes Anderson. His use of very particular cinematography, staging, and color make each of his films instantly recognizable, and that’s before you get to his dialogue, which has a precise rhythm that makes each character seem related no matter how different they are.

That sameness from film to film could be boring, but he has a way of refreshing the style with his stories that keeps his fans returning again and again. That ability is on display once more in The French Dispatch, an anthology-style film that works as a kind of visual version of the titular magazine, which itself is an international outpost of the fictional Liberty, Kansas Evening Sun newspaper.

Anderson uses the film as a love letter to journalists and journalism, but viewed through his unique lens. Editor-in-chief Arthur Howitzer, Jr. (Bill Murray) shepherds an eclectic staff through assembling an issue, including art writer J.K.L. Berensen (Tilda Swinton), man-about-town Herbsaint Sazerac (Owen Wilson), crime reporter Roebuck Wright (Geoffrey Wright), and more.

None of the the three main stories they tell are straightforward, which is mostly beneficial for the film. They involve an imprisoned artist (Benicio Del Toro) whose guard (Léa Seydoux) serves as his muse, and the art enthusiasts who go crazy for his work; a political agitator (Timothée Chalamet) covered perhaps a bit too closely by a Dispatch reporter (Frances McDormand); and Roebuck Wright recounting his time infiltrating a crime gang to a talk show host (Liev Schreiber).

As is the custom with Anderson films, the stories are populated with all manner of big-name actors in small roles, including Adrien Brody, Saoirse Ronan, Bob Balaban, Henry Winkler, Christoph Waltz, Willem Dafoe, Edward Norton, Elisabeth Moss, and Jason Schwartzmann, among others. Everyone involved appears more than happy to play in Anderson’s sandbox, no matter how short or long their stay.

Anderson’s trademark whimsy carries the film throughout, even when a couple of the segments drag. You may think you know where a story is heading, but then he throws in a few off-the-wall details that no other filmmaker would even think to include. Those kinds of things almost always work in his favor because he long ago established his quirky bona fides. That said, this is not an entry-level Anderson film; anyone coming to him for the first time may find themselves scratching their head why other moviegoers are enjoying it so much.

More so than most of his films, there is no star on whose performance the story relies. Murray plays the head of the paper, but like every other actor, he only pops up at certain times. The ones who make the most of their brief appearances are Swinton, Del Toro, Seydoux, and McDormand, although each member of the ensemble elevates the film in one way or another.

The French Dispatch may not go down as a classic in Anderson’s filmography, but it’s a welcome return to live-action filmmaking for the director (his last non-animated film was 2014’s The Grand Budapest Hotel). No one tells a story exactly like he does, and his presence among all the blockbusters is always welcome.

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The French Dispatch opens in theaters on October 29.

Benicio Del Toro and Léa Seydoux in The French Dispatch.

$Benicio Del Toro and L\u00e9a Seydoux in The French Dispatch$

Photo courtesy of Searchlight Pictures

Benicio Del Toro and Léa Seydoux in The French Dispatch.

Movie Review

Jessica Chastain drama Dreams stumbles through steamy romance

Isaac Hernández and Jessica Chastain in Dreams

Photo courtesy of Teorema

Isaac Hernández and Jessica Chastain in Dreams.

The opening scenes of the new drama Dreams are bracing, fictional sequences that call to mind real-life scenarios. In them, a young Mexican man named Fernando (Isaac Hernández) goes through a somewhat harrowing journey from the back of a semi truck in South Texas all the way to San Francisco. It’s a familiar immigrant story that seems to set the stage for a film with something interesting to say.

It turns out, however, that Fernando has not made the long and arduous trek for a job. Instead, it’s to be with Jennifer McCarthy (Jessica Chastain), a rich woman who helps lead a foundation dedicated to multiple things, including funding dance academies. Fernando, a talented dancer, and Jennifer have been in an off-and-on affair for years, with Jennifer wanting to keep their relationship a secret.

Although both are drawn to each other in an inexplicable, lustful way, their bond is tenuous, with each of them dissatisfied for different reasons. Fernando clearly sacrifices much more of himself than Jennifer, who wants for nothing except maybe more affection from her father, Michael (Marshall Bell), and brother, Jake (Rupert Friend).

Writer/director Michel Franco seems to try to inject tension into Fernando and Jennifer’s relationship from the start, an attempt that is only halfway successful. It’s clear from the way they greet each other - not to mention a steamy sex scene shortly thereafter - that they have known each other for a good length of time. Franco is able to get across this familiarity with an economy of scenes, and the intensity of their bond holds for a while.

But as the film progresses and both of them grow disenchanted with their arrangement, Franco starts taking the story in some odd directions. The biggest issue is that it’s never clear at what point in time the story is taking place. Fernando ends up making multiple trips back and forth across the border, with Jennifer doing the same at one point, and Franco’s use of flashbacks muddies the waters, wrong-footing the audience when he should be trying to draw them further into Fernando and Jennifer’s complications.

Revelations in the final act make the story even more confusing, as both main characters start saying and doing harsh things that seem to come out of nowhere. That would be all well and good if Franco actually committed to their changes of heart, but he keeps things wishy-washy for most of the final 15 minutes, resulting in an ending that makes little sense for either character.

Despite the story issues, both Chastain and Hernández give compelling performances. Chastain has been a little under the radar since winning an Oscar for The Eyes of Tammy Faye, but she keeps this character interesting longer than it should have been. Hernández has limited credits and appears to have been cast for his dancing ability, but he goes toe-to-toe with Chastain on more than one occasion and acquits himself well.

Dreams had all of the ideas to explore a more in-depth story about the complicated immigration policies between Mexico and the U.S., or how wealthy people take advantage of those less fortunate. But Franco never finds the right footing, settling instead for a titillating and somewhat mystifying relationship story that feels half-baked.

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Dreams is now playing in select theaters.

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