Its no secret that I love a Wes Anderson movie, I’m not even there for the plot, they’re just the most beautiful thing to look at. The colour palettes, the symmetry, the dialogue, its all just so visually pleasing, I could go the rest of my life only watching his movies. Now, I am not claiming to be a film expert in any way shape or form, but I do have some form of analytical skills and I have watched these movies many times.
Let’s start with the obvious, Wes Anderson’s cinematic style is iconic. Every frame is an art piece within itself, the pastel pink hotel, the mustard yellow tracksuits and the dollhouse-like sets. The symmetry, overhead shots and slow pans create a sense of order within a film that deals with quite complex emotions, he uses this visual control to pull together multiple chaotic narratives.
This shot from The French Dispatch, for example, pulls together two quite different characters who, for most of their scenes, are battling against each other in a political war. Yet in the picture, Anderson uses the symmetry to create a cohesive image without taking away from the character’s personality. To me, its perfect, their postures, the colour grading, the use of the jukebox light to pull the eyes to the front of the shot. Just from this you can see how well Wes Anderson draws you attention exactly where he wants it to be with the simplest touches.
Wes Anderson movies, at their cores, are about people falling apart, lonely geniuses, dysfunctional families and misunderstood misfits, all damaged in the most human ways possible. Even in the more whimsical settings of Moonrise Kingdom and Fantastic Mr Fox, the character’s emotions are painfully real. Two kids trying to find a place in a world that doesn’t understand them and a father and son both trying to be more than people say they can be… almost too relatable? I mean, don’t we all have moments in which we feel misunderstood… that overwhelming dread that the people who doubted you were right… the want to be more… but maybe that’s just me.
His characters often speak in a flat, almost rehearsed tone, like they’re reading straight from a script without processing what they’re actually saying. But that’s what makes it work. The emotional detachment in their voices contrasts with the rawness of what’s being said, creating a kind of vulnerability. The lack of dramatics gives you space to feel the weight of the moment on your own terms. When someone in a Wes Anderson film confesses love, regret, or loss, they don’t usually cry or raise their voice. They drop their feelings into the conversation like they’re commenting on the weather, and somehow, that hits harder than any emotional outburst ever could.
Another thing Wes Anderson mastered is creating nostalgia without sentimentality. He doesn’t make films about the past, he makes them through the past. Using old record players, vintage clothes, outdated letters, all to create a world that feels timeless and just out of reach. It’s nostalgic without being rose-tinted and the stories often focus on characters trying to recapture something they’ve lost, and failing. He manages to create this sense that time is moving forward without the characters, and they’re aware of it, and it kinda hurts. It reminds me a lot of the feeling grief brings, like your world has stopped but everyone else’s keeps going… and it hurts.
Overall, watching a Wes Anderson movie is almost like intruding on someone’s personal dream, they have so much heart and emotion without the dramatics of big acting. As someone who struggles with watching movies because I either find them too overwhelming or not stimulating enough, Wes Anderson is perfect. They even have the autism seal of approval from my friends. The scenes are beautiful and moving and I just cannot get enough, thank god he keeps making more.
xoxo The Bueno Dispatch