Asteroid City [2023]
We're just two catastrophically wounded people who don't express the depths of our pain because... we don't want to.
I, however, do want to express the depths of my pain.
Asteroid City is the latest work by one of modern film’s most interesting auteurs, Wes Anderson, and depicts a shining example of another director who I don’t think should write their own content. If I had to describe Asteroid City in a single word, I would call it “relentless”. Anderson’s style is put on full display in every frame from the props, to the costumes, to the intentionally stilted dialogue. This is good, as Anderson’s style is impeccable, irreplicable, and entirely unique. This is bad, however, if you want anything more than impeccable, irreplicable, and/ or entirely unique style, because Asteroid City’s plot, execution, and narrative structure are more barren than an abandoned chunk of space metal.
My typical format for these reviews would hold a short synopsis of the story here before jumping into the technical or emotional aspects of the film. That’s a little difficult to do for this one as it’s simultaneously about several things [like the way people can leave “craters” in our lives after even brief encounters] and nearly nothing at all. The film is only 1:45 in length and the “conflict” [as it were] is only introduced at the 60-minute mark. So, for the first hour or so of the film we’re left to wander almost entirely aimlessly through the desert while desperately clinging to the eccentric characters, attempt at meta-narrative through cutaway storytelling, and vibrant and beautifully styled sets. Anderson’s world, cinematography, and overall presentation is bar none here… There’s just no substance to anything on screen. While it’s possible this was an intentional depiction of an “alien” experience, there was only the briefest of moments in the entire script that felt even vaguely engaging from an emotional standpoint, with everything else feeling more like a rough draft or series of bullet points than something refined, edited, or honed. When I call Asteroid City “relentless”, this is mostly what I mean.
The style never stops — almost every frame of every scene is worth hanging in your home, every character fits into an interesting and intentionally clichéd box, and the dichotomy between the two modes of storytelling are anything but incidental. Unfortunately, this style is all there is to the film. As I said, it never stops and, in never stopping, it plows on and on and on and on without ever developing into anything meaningful or impactful. Once the momentum is gained by the script, it simply rolls through the lines and happenings with no real regard to development, destination, or meaning. Equally unfortunately, this is something I’ve bemoaned about most of Anderson’s work lately. His style — his vision — is uncompromising in a way not often seen in film… and something I hope we never lose from him. However, that vision is coming more and more at the expense of his narratives and the worlds themselves.
Nobody makes movies with as much personality or zany fantasy [what I would probably call “un-reality”] as Anderson. There’s always a generous nod to the fact that you’re watching a movie — something made up, something constructed and shot and produced simply for your entertainment. However, within that obvious wink and smirk towards us, as the audience, there’s also an undeniable authenticity and genuine passion for each one of the tempera-paint sets, costumes, characters, and props. They are each colorful in ways that expand beyond simple visual appeal and fantastical in ways that I don’t think anyone can quite accurately explain. Each of Anderson’s creations are simultaneously every one of us and none of us individually. The worlds he creates within his vibrant and wacky scripts are at once our own and ones we know we’ll never see. There’s a strange fancy and awe at being invited into these places, and a very honest warmth in the way they are created. The issue here… is that simply creating them doesn’t make them meaningful.
Asteroid City hammers this point home over and over and over again as it drones on and on and on using more and more and more words… to say nothing at all. I’m sure he — and several people on the internet — could dissect the film’s meaning and the purpose of this prop or that line, but meaning can be found in anything if you want it to be there. There’s a major difference between meaning inherent in a piece, and meaning ascribed to a piece. I’ve talked about this before in my reviews for both Super Dark Times and Hunter Hunter, so I won’t belabor the point here. Just know that, while I’m sure someone, somewhere, can find intense and deep meaning behind the events and characters of Asteroid City, I don’t feel that validates the film’s narrative as intentionally conveying those things in an interesting or worthwhile way.
I want Wes Anderson to keep making movies and I want those movies to continue looking, sounding, and feeling like this one. What I don’t want is for them to continue being vapid, boring, and [if I’m totally honest] kind of self-absorbed art-pieces as opposed to interesting or engaging narrative and emotional ones. Similar to my thoughts on almost all of Guillermo del Toro’s work, it seems to me that Anderson should be directing and possibly adapting screenplays, but not writing his own material. I’ll continue to watch and be excited for his films, but this one was one of the longest movies I’ve watched all year… and I just finished Beau is Afraid.
The, uh, alien stole the asteroid.
