Jonah Naplan June 22, 2023
The most Wes Anderson of all his movies, “Asteroid City” is a thoughtful and staggering piece of work—a film that conjures a blend of both an abundant, distinctive style and an emotional foreground. The former is something we’ve come to expect from the director’s movies for many years now, and Anderson’s last film, “The French Dispatch,” is perhaps the best example of how that style can be twisted in innovative directions. The latter is maybe not something we first think of when it comes to his movies. The harshest critics of Anderson’s work observe that he tends to get so distracted by the filmmaking of the piece itself, that he sacrifices emotional resonance and poignancy. This is not the case with “Asteroid City”—a film that stakes its flag deep in the grounds of meta-narrative and personal combustion. What results is a fascinating, intertwining, and humbling film that paints its adults with the same wonder that it does its children. And aliens.
“Asteroid City” is a film of many accounts. It opens in a black-and-white square ratio on a neatly groomed Bryan Cranston. The year is unspecified. Beginning with narration, this fake documentary made for television chronicles the writing of a play called “Asteroid City,” penned by an infamous playwright named Conrad Earp (Edward Norton). Cranston introduces the slew of actors as they are each spotlighted on stage. Many of this film’s headliners play both a character in the “Asteroid City” show and a fake actor that portrays them. As for the play itself, “Asteroid City” is depicted through a vibrant orangey landscape in widescreen. And as someone who has lived in Arizona for ten years now, I suspect that this meteor-crash-site-turned-rural-town is supposed to be situated somewhere in my home state, New Mexico, or Texas. It follows war photographer Augie Steenbeck (Jason Schwartzman) who arrives in Asteroid City with his pack of children—a brainiac named Woodrow (Jake Ryan), who is competing in a Junior Stargazer science competition, and three much younger girls who are interchangeably similar. A timid father for sure, Augie has procrastinated telling his children that not only has their mother been dead for three weeks now, but he’s been carrying around her ashes in a tupperware. When the family’s car breaks down in an early scene, Augie calls upon his father-in-law, Stanley (Tom Hanks), to come and pick up the girls. His relationship with his wife’s father is estranged, a hint of the movie’s human drama.
Asteroid City is hosting a space camp that celebrates the alignment of three galaxy apparatuses, a special event that only occurs every 57 years, ambassadored by a government official (regular Anderson collaborator, Jeffrey Wright). The three-day itinerary brings upon other teen geniuses, including Dinah (Grace Edwards), accompanied by her mother, Midge Campbell (an electrifying Scarlett Johansson), a troubled actress who searches for her sorrow through leisurely activities. The single mother—Midge—and the widower—Augie—connect through a series of conversations the two have while gazing at each other through their respective motel room windows. The square frames that separate the two make these scenes even more profound, as Anderson divulges into “frame within a frame” sentiments.
Schwartzman and Johansson are beguiling, delivering their lines with the apprehensive bluntness that Anderson’s scripts have become so famous for. More criticism of his work complains that his dialogue is often delivered in monotone, shielding the viewer from drawing emotional credibility. And “Asteroid City,” as I said, is very so much his movie. We get the symmetrical shots, the whataboutism, the matter-of-factly spontaneous events, and the drolling, monotone dialogue. But to look past that, digging deep down to engage with the heart of a work, is to admire the form in which Anderson is telling his story.
His multi-narratives, as this one is, are often told non-linearly, and you sometimes worry that you aren’t catching everything that’s being thrown at you. Even “The French Dispatch” fell into the trap of being more sophisticated than necessary, as did the stop-motion “Isle of Dogs.” But “Asteroid City” is extremely easy to follow, and ingeniously conceived from start to finish. As the film unfolds, juxtaposing back and forth between the play as a movie and the backstage look at Earp and theater director Schubert Green (Adrien Brody), we feel smart that we’re able to follow along. This is because Anderson is commending the viewer all the way through, telling a shockingly straightforward story, separated into distinctive acts, as marked by title cards.
It helps that Anderson, working with production designer Adam Stockhausen and longtime cinematographer Robert Yeoman, fills out every last corner of his movie’s sundried landscape with someone or something unique and notable, whether it’s a sight gag, a wink at the camera, or a visit from a UFO. Some of “Asteroid City”’s most outlandish and amusing elements come from the stop-motion abnormalities that stand out to anyone willing to pay close enough attention. A roadrunner that says “meep! meep!” appears in the movie’s foreground as something more important is unfolding center stage. A nuclear experiment gone wrong is depicted as a mushroom-like exhaust cloud on the horizon. Seemingly inflatable buttes sit far in the distance from the town. Even the alien itself is portrayed in a cartoonish light, especially compared to the galactic space epics we’re used to seeing.
But most importantly of all, the color grading of “Asteroid City” is the film’s biggest stand-out design choice. Everyone and everything—the characters, sets, animals, etc—are painted in a light copperish, goldeny fluorescent tone, that compliments the absurdity of the play itself. Things happen without justification. Questionable phrases are thrown every which way. A variety of vending machines that sell food, drinks—and real estate?—sit outside the Asteroid City motel. The owner, played by Steve Carrell, explains that if you put exactly ten dollars in quarters into the machine, it will spit out the deed to a patch of land about the size of half a tennis court. Never heard that one before!
As is usual with Wes Anderson’s movies, “Asteroid City” features an impeccable ensemble. Most aren’t featured a whole lot—some have smaller roles, while the rest are subjected to mere cameos. But side performances from Rupert Friend, Matt Dillon, Tilda Swinton, Liev Schreiber, Willem Dafoe, Sophia Lillis, Steve Park, Margot Robbie, and even Jeff Goldblum leave a considerable impression as they assist in filling out the movie’s population.
“Asteroid City” acts as both a greatest hits package for the director and as a meta commentary on the values that show business both protects and skimps over. In so doing, Anderson is celebrating the underappreciated actors, writers, producers, and directors that a good show (or movie) requires. By playing his cards right, Anderson is not being pretentious. He is looking straight at the audience and smiling.
Now playing in theaters.