‘Asteroid City’ Review: Wes Anderson’s Latest Stylistic Endeavor May Be His Best
(L-R) Jake Ryan, Jason Schwartzman, & Tom Hanks in Asteroid City. Courtesy of Pop. 87 Productions/Focus Features
Regardless of how many (AI-generated) TikToks can “replicate” the auteur’s style and flair, not everyone is Wes Anderson. Anderson, known for giving characters dry humor as well as his visual style, does something new with Asteroid City, turning a story about aliens, grief, and cosmic uncertainties into what may be his most straightforward and emotionally complete film in recent years. Though on paper, Asteroid City’s play within a television special within a movie structure may seem hard to follow, the film benefits from the various visual styles and aspect ratios — a staple for Anderson’s films — and uses them in very distinct ways, effectively communicating the film’s setting and story for those who rely on them.
Hong Chau & Adrien Brody in Asteroid City. Courtesy of Pop. 87 Productions/Focus Features
Asteroid City turns us into viewers of a television program rather than a typical film story, a program that tells the tale of the play “Asteroid City,” where we spend most of our time. There’s a cast of eccentric actors playing actors, though we learn more about the characters they’re playing than the actors themselves. First, there’s Augie Steenbeck (frequent Anderson contributor Jason Schwartzman), a widower and father of four who finds himself stuck in Asteroid City when his car breaks down before meeting actress Midge Campbell (Scarlett Johansson) in a local diner, whose daughter, Dinah (Grade Edwards) is infatuated with Augie’s son, Woodrow (Eighth Grade’s Jake Ryan). Anderson and production designer Adam Stockhausen create these locations — and all seen throughout the film — with a diorama-esque nature, looking like the kind of location that a child could build out of LEGO.
Structurally, Asteroid City follows the typical film three-act structure, with a slight variation. Anderson lets us know where we are at all times, with title cards — popping up every few scenes as well as alerting us to the literal end of each act, a device, and structure that seemingly only applies when we’re in the center of the turducken — that serve as check-in points, echoing The Host’s (Bryan Cranston) remarks that open the film, a monologue that outlines the story, creating a slight sense of anticipation for the audience, as we know when each act will take place, but not what happens, or what any of it means, as said by Schwartzman in the third.
Jason Schwartzman & Scarlett Johansson in Asteroid City. Courtesy of Pop. 87 Productions/Focus Features
A lot of the time, people look for deeper or hidden meanings in films, wanting more than a story, craving intense character arcs and metaphorical questions, and sometimes, wanting to ponder our own morality. Though Asteroid City may not be the most existential crisis a movie can be, it dives into themes of grief — “The time is never right,” says Tom Hanks’ character (Stanley Zak, Augie’s father-in-law) in regards to the question of when the right time to tell children that their mother passed — but searching more for a deeper understanding of the pain, though we can’t always find it. “I still don't understand the play,” Schwartzman says to the play’s director (Adrien Brody), to which Brody responds, “It's okay. Just keep telling the story.” It’s almost miraculous that, in a story about aliens, the solar system, and uncertainties — one that (as the film admits) is entirely fake — there’s more pure human connection — and why we may need it — than in most films nowadays, making the film easier to connect with than some of Anderson’s previous works, especially his most recent (2021’s The French Dispatch). Whether it’s the spontaneous song and dance shared between Maya Hawke and Rupert Friend or the conversations shared between Schwartzman and Johansson from the windows of their cabins, it’s clear that at least part of Asteroid City is purely about connecting with one another.
There’s a particularly delicate craft found within Asteroid City, one that carries over from the direction to the acting, cinematography, and production design. When we’re first introduced to the town (with a population of 87), Director of Photography Robert Yeoman executes a full 360° rotation, setting the scene of the ever-adapting location where we spend most of our time. Though the aforementioned TikToks would have you believe that Anderson relies heavily on fast, repetitive cuts, which in this case, isn’t true — they’re swapped out for longer shots that rely on careful pans and dolly effects to convey urgency as opposed to stationary camera with more chaotic editing.
At its core, Asteroid City is undoubtedly Anderson’s strongest film on an emotional level — was he okay during COVID? — but if you didn’t like the writer/director’s previous works, the film probably won’t be for you as it doubles down on many of his staples (dry humor, diorama-like sets, large ensembles) but leaves room for something more that even I, someone who doesn't adore many of the auteur’s works, can appreciate.
Asteroid City is now playing in theaters in Los Angeles and New York City before playing worldwide on June 23.
This review was made possible thanks to Focus Features who invited us to an advance screening of Asteroid City for review.
