Reviewed by Colin Jacobson (August 22, 2023)
2021’s The French Dispatch represented Wes Anderson’s first live-action film since 2014’s Grand Budapest Hotel - though he cranked out the animated Isle of Dogs between those two. Anderson returned fairly quickly to live-action with 2023’s Asteroid City.
Set in 1955, we go to Asteroid City, a fictional spot in the US Southwest named due to a massive “impact crater” at its core. At this location, young astronomy buffs gather for the Junior Stargazer Convention, and this group includes military photographer Augie Steenbeck (Jason Schwartman), his brainy son Woodrow (Jake Ryan) and daughters Andromeda (Ella Faris), Pandora (Gracie Faris) and Cassiopeia (Willan Faris).
They arrive cloaked in tragedy, as Augie’s wife (Margot Robbie) recently died but he keeps this from the kids. As Augie copes with loss, he and his offspring meet others at the astronomical festival who bring new twists to their lives.
That synopsis simplifies matters greatly, especially because it ignores the film’s unusual framework. Rather than simply present the affairs of Augie and company on their own, City posits these events as part of a play within the movie.
A TV play, for that matter, one conducted in the stilted 1950s fashion and narrated by an unnamed host (Bryan Cranston). City blurs a lot of lines and also gets into the backstories for the fictional actors involved.
Does all this serve a purpose obvious to anyone other than Anderson? Perhaps, but City nonetheless strikes me as yet another one of Anderson’s self-indulgent experiments.
As I’ve said in prior reviews of Anderson’s works, he crossed the line into self-parody at least a decade ago, and maybe more. His films feel like stylistic enterprises with a challenge involved to see if Anderson can ever go too “Wes Anderson” even for his small but devoted cult.
If I give Anderson the benefit of the doubt and accept that he makes movies he wants to make and doesn’t simply create ever-more-insular efforts intended just for the already converted, I could admire his course. If nothing else, Anderson has never “sold out” and attempted to broaden his audience beyond the aforementioned cult.
And if you belong to that faction, enjoy yourself. I suspect you’ll get something out of City the rest of us don’t.
Even more than prior Anderson flicks, though, City just feels clever-clever for no organic reason. The “play within the film” conceit goes absolutely nowhere and feels like a pretentious meta gambit that just turns silly.
Of course, Anderson does little to expand his emotional palette. This means essentially the standard sequence of deadpan performances and characters who react to impactful stimuli the same way they’d deal with spilled pancake batter.
Anderson does attempt something a bit more philosophical toward the end – but only a little. Anderson seems unsure how to wrap up the tale in a coherent manner, so all this eventually sputters.
As usual, Anderson gathers an impeccable cast. In addition to those already named, we find a slew of stars like Tom Hanks, Willem Dafoe, Jeffrey Wright, Tilda Swinton, Steve Carell and a bucket of others.
Inevitably, City forces them into the flat performance style Anderson favors. A few seem to slightly rebel – or just find themselves unable to fit with that tone – but the end result nonetheless feels stuck in Anderson’s usual vibe.
All of this becomes a tiresome journey into Anderson’s cinematic fetishes. Maybe someday Anderson will expand his horizons and give us something less arch and self-conscious, but City doesn’t become that project.