Preamble

Apologies for not posting in September. But between work and my attention being pulled in other directions, the motivation for blogging has been practically non existent. However, I’m glad to be back and could not think of a better film to mark my return then Asteroid City. It’s no secret round here that Rushmore is my favourite film of all time. And the notion of watching/briefly considering a new Wes Anderson film raises more then a curious eyebrow. In fact, with the release of his recent short film “The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar” (part of a collection of four short films that adapt Roald Dahl’s work), it seems that 2023 is the year for the acclaimed American auteur. Have you seen Asteroid City? Let me know in the comments below.

Brief Consideration

In Wes Anderson’s films, theatre plays an important part, whether initially being an extension of Max Fischer’s ego in Rushmore or the lightning rod for the childhood romance in Moonrise Kingdom. But in Asteroid City, it’s the metatextual engine that drives the film. The title location refers to a production written by a playwright, Conrad Earp (Edward Norton), which has a live broadcast presented by Bryan Cranston’s Rod Sterling-esque television host. Much like The Grand Budapest Hotel, which had an inception-styled wrapping in how it presented its narrative, City equally gets mileage out of its illusion-breaking interjections.

By showing the various ways in which the central play is conceived, Anderson is showing the humbleness of the artistic process and how people (or in this case, players) attempt to find meaning in their process. In one of the scenes where the play itself references the process, Midge Campbell (Scarlett Johansson) asks her scene partner, Augie Steinbeck (Jason Schwartzman), to use his grief when they’re running lines together. The emotional truth that emerges out of their connection is the numbness of their pain. They both attempt to soothe this with their persistently busy and ultimately fleeting occupations (actor and war photographer respectively).

While Rushmore had a positive perspective on how art can transform from being a tool of ego to a vehicle for bringing people together from vastly different walks of life, City’s ruminations on it are inherently melancholic. Anderson contends it can’t hope to repair the wounds of despair, but instead be a temporary reprieve for them. An early line from Steinbeck says this best, “Time can heal all wounds. No. Maybe it can be a Band-Aid.”

Similarly to Budapest, Asteroid City feels mournful for an era and the type of people that emerged from that point in time. Campbell’s no-nonsense and forthright actress is a homage to Hepburn as much as the inherent abusive plight of 1950s women. The attempt to create a production and help find meaning and emotional truth within that art form appeals to Anderson. The same could be said with the director’s liberal juggling of Academy ratio scenes and intricate set design, splitting the difference between stunning and schlocky that feels in keeping with the era. But in the various panning camera moves and instances of dual-like split screen shots, Anderson depicts the ceaseless toiling towards the connection that we all strive for.