Asteroid City, In Which Wes Anderson Is Now Just Screwing With Us

Before grabbing one of the 40-odd seats in the local art house theater’s upper viewing room for Asteroid City I had never seen a Wes Anderson movie.

I know who he is. I’ve read much about him, about his films, about his style and particulars, that viewing his films is a love it or hate it sort of thing. I understand the references, mostly. I just never watched one of his movies.

To be fair, theater movie going is not something I enjoy. Too loud, too many people, too expensive, too many bad movies not worth the hassle. However, I have family members who love going to the movies, so for the greater good I do sometimes take up my cinematic cross and follow them to whatever it is they want to see. I’m practically the anti-film critic, in that I don’t really care if I see most movies and my standards for good/not good have little to do with the art of filmmaking and more to do with did I just enjoy the film for whatever the run time is. I like movies. I even love a few. I hate going to the modern theater. I’d rather watch them at home. I apologize for nothing.

However, with Asteroid City looking to be a real spectacle and cinephiles I listen to on such matters urging me to give Wes Anderson a chance, I did. Getting to watch it in the friendly confines of the smaller view room, which while limited in seating is still full DLP projection on a screen, was a deciding factor. Getting to make it a daddy-daughter outing with youngest youngin’ who is also the artsiest of the offspring sealed the deal.

She loved it. I loved it. She got it. I kinda sorta did but will rewatch it a couple of times when it is released to home just to dig through the layers of references, homages, cameos, and the parade of visual and dialog cues that all seem to be puzzle pieces leading to a picture that eludes me.

I think it is by design. Without delving into the plot points too much, Asteroid City is something called a “metatextual plot.” That means — I discovered after having to look it up — you have a plot within the plot about a plot. Or something. In this case a movie about making a play, presented as a tv show about that play, interspersed with how the play within the play was written as covered by the tv show. The effect is such when Bryan Cranston’s narrator character excuses himself for being in the wrong shot, or being in color instead of black and white, or whatever since there are layers upon layers to this movie, it isn’t a breaking of the fourth wall, but the fifth, sixth, or seventh wall. The characters playing characters in the play within the film portrayed on a tv show within the film is Anderson so thoroughly in command of his storytelling style he’s just screwing with the audience now and letting them enjoy the ride.

I do truly wish there was a flowchart for all that, but just bear with me.

The stacked cast and incredible visuals don’t chew up or fill scenes; they are more like little live-action dioramas meticulously arranged just so that the audience moves through. Anderson even shoots some of the scenes that way, side tracking shots that feel like local theater sliding the stage backgrounds around. It is a set, Anderson never lets us forget, and more than that the desert set is the director’s sandbox to play in. Then the play within the film set, and tv set covering the play set, is where Anderson goes to comment on the whole thing. There are layers, nuances, occasional blunt-force-narrative trauma, but followed by superbly subtle acting that has you forgive any transgressions immediately. Plenty of laugh out loud moments despite characters clearly written to embody things like grief, melancholy, loneliness, and not fitting in. Snappy, wordy dialog that always stays on the right side of the very clever line without crossing over to insulting the audience.

The whole thing comes off not just as a wonderful, original movie but more like an immersive experience into a filmmaker who has not only mastered his craft but is now so good at doing the thing only he can do he’s trying to make it challenging for himself. Michael Jordan at his peak used to hunt for the most minor criticism from the press or seemingly benign trash talk from an opponent to fuel his insatiable competitive streak. The game of basketball having been mastered, he started mastering the “game within the game” to self-motivate. Lacking competition, he created it in his own mind to keep the fire going. We’ve seen it from the masters in various fields from sports, to art, to politics, to Lego building; What does someone do when they are so good, and so much better, than anyone else at the very specific thing they do? Seeking a new challenge or falling off are the two options once you’ve peaked, and if there are no new challenges, just make one up.

In Asteroid City, Wes Anderson made a film that is really about Wes Anderson being so good at what he does he’s just toying with us now. Some reviews and critics of Asteroid City waved around words like “self-indulgent” and “empty” and that Anderson might have gone mad, or at least high on his own supply of Wes Anderson. Maybe so, but that doesn’t track at all. If you have a movie maker who is deemed uniquely gifted and skilled and spend years telling everyone of his genius while warning that consuming that brilliance is an acquired taste, complaining when that same director moves the line on acquired taste just a smidge bit past what the vaunted film critics deem to be pleasing sounds hypocritical. This isn’t someone going mad and losing all touch with who and what they are. Asteroid City is Anderson turning his unique take on filmmaking to 11 and living his best, off beat, living-tableau life now.

However, yes, Asteroid City ain’t for everyone. One person’s charmingly quirky is no doubt another’s pretentious blather. The sound cues which run from familiar things like clicking cameras and the bee-booping of retro tech hit one way, while the nearly ethereal chimes overlaying key plot points can hit as distracting. The color and the shape of Asteroid City will hit the viewer as a matter of taste, either creatively brash or annoyingly overbearing. The pendulum swings from heavy moments to laugh out loud humor, from wordless stares between characters to the entire ensembled cast scream-chanting at the audience into a smash cut to black, Anderson’s curated trip to Asteroid City might give the emotionally invested whiplash. Frankly, anyone leaving just confused should not be judged harshly at all. Anderson can be a lot, and even if you appreciate him, you can image him storyboarding something and pitching it as “If less is more, just imagine how much more more would be!”

But I loved it. I’ll take creatively over the top any day, especially these days, over yet another superhero movie with a CGI sensory assault and sarcastic humor and I-don’t-care stakes. I’ll definitely take this over the remakes and sequel train moviemaking seems to be stuck on. I’m not a film critic, at all, but I can see their point that — as much as I loved Asteroid City — you could worry Wes Anderson could start getting into a thing where he just does Wes Anderson being Wes Anderson in the future. But I hope not, and doubt it. And even if he does it will probably be entertaining watching it all happen. Maybe if this wasn’t my first Wes Anderson movie it would hit different. But it was.

40-seat viewing room at the local art house theater and Wes Anderson painting a masterpiece across the screen? I might just be starting to enjoy going to the movies again.