The French Dispatch
Wes Anderson’s visually stunning new comedy (The Grand Budapest Hotel) follows a group of eccentric reporters in the fictional French town of Ennui-Sur-Blasé.
The French Dispatch, a high-brow magazine based in Ennui-Sur-Blasé, has reached its end. Its founder has died, and his beloved creation looks set to shut down operations. In doing so, its staff reflect nostalgically on the publication’s halcyon days, when the writers were as celebrated as the subjects they covered. There’s the art critic who regales with the story of a jailed painter’s obsession with his muse; a political correspondent whose ‘current affairs’ once included a young insurgent during a student protest; and the rarefied food critic who becomes quite the pot-au-feu when he finds himself caught up in a kidnapping plot.
Anderson is at the top of his game with this dazzling, inventive and irrepressibly witty tribute to the New Yorker magazine and its writers. Along with his trademark shooting style – exquisitely-conceived symmetrical compositions – there’s deft use of aspect ratio and seamless monochrome-to-colour shifts. And the whole thing is carried along by regular collaborator Alexandre Desplat’s wonderful score. (source: BFI)