Asteroid City: Finding the Humanity

Wes Anderson explores existentialism with his typical colorful flare.

I write this review not in defense of Anderson, he’s a Hollywood name stay with more money, fans, and fortune than I could every accumulate by praising or detracting his work; but I do write it with lightly uplifting confusion.

Wes Anderson has always stood out for his unique visual style. One watches an Anderson flick for its visual flare, pin-point comedy expressed through visual gags and monotone monologues, and confusing stories upon stories upon stories. It has been argued that these elements come at the cost of character, originality, and innovation, but looking back at Anderson’s filmography, I cannot help but feel a bit lost when reading reviews for Asteroid City. One letterboxd user states they took absolutely nothing away from the film and felt as though it had no point at all. Contrast this with Mark Kermode’s review for the Guardian, where he finishes his scathing critique with a damnation of the film’s overt themes. For whatever reason, no, for any reason at all, people love to hate Anderson and his silly colors, quaint sets, and caricature characters.

And this is why I say I do not write this review with the intention of coming to Anderson’s aid in his most dire moments (in fact, the latest Tik Tok trend shows he still has as many fans as he does detractors), as I am not shy about my own critiques of the auteur. I have felt it has been difficult to connect to some of his film’s due to the purposefully stilted performances used to execute undeniably unnatural dialogue. I also believe that Anderson cannot outrun the style over substance claims; one of the main points against the director’s integrity as a, well, director. “He’s too full of himself” says the film critic when presented with the most colorful landscape they’ve ever seen. I agree, I prefer my visual excess with something to chew on, but is that not also a bit overly cynical? Sometimes I find myself wondering, do you hate Wes Anderson, or do you hate that so many people love Wes Anderson?

And that question only continues to linger in my head after viewing Asteroid City, a film I believe addresses some common complaints with the director’s filmography, while still failing to move past others. Firstly, the most successful part of this film, besides its visuals, are its themes. Yes, Kermode may have a point when criticizing the lack of subtlety Anderson sometimes display’s a little too proudly. Having character’s look into the camera and chant “you can’t wake up if you don’t fall asleep” is, admittedly, as direct as one can get. But that scene so damned by critics comes only after over half of the film, with nearly an hour and a half spent with character’s that, when given the proper attention, are some of Anderson’s most human. In fact, this is where I believe Asteroid City’s greatest success lies: its thematic cohesion.

In Asteroid City there is a gas station, a few houses, plotted land, a motel, and, of course, an asteroid. Here, the Junior Stargazer/Space Cadet convention is being held, which brings an eclectic cast of characters together under a single star. There are devout Christians’, cowboy’s, filmmakers, motel managers, photographers, scientists, actresses, and eventually, the military. After an alien suddenly steals the asteroid from the ceremony, the small town is sent into chaos as quarantine ensues…for the character’s in the play. Did I forget to mention Asteroid City isn’t real? It’s actually the title of the latest play written by genius playwright Conrad Earp, with his own story of the production narrated by one Bryan Cranston (he is simply “the narrator” in the film). While this may cause a few eyes to roll at the mention of another meta-textual story, as it did my own when first seeing the curtains open, I soon realized this was not a case of Anderson being Anderson for Anderson’s sake; this was style meets substance.

As the plot progresses, with an admittedly meandering pace that at times left me wondering what the point of a given scene even was, our character’s as character’s begin to merge and blend. Jason Schartzman is Augie Steenbeck is Jones Hall in this plot that unravels at the seams; Cranston’s character even begins to narrate a scene he was written out of. Again, based on Anderson’s past, it would be easy to point at this layered story as another self-indulgent quirk, but in Asteroid City, the struggle to determine one’s identity, their role, or even the meaning of the very play they are in ties wonderfully into the web of existentialism Anderson presents alongside the cutest critique of American society you’ve ever seen.

With its bright pastel’s illuminating a Western landscape where the greatest attractions are a half built bridge, land, and a dinky asteroid, it is no coincidence that its inhabitants are cornerstones of American culture. The arts, academia, the frontiersman, religion; all are present in Anderson’s dollhouse turned existential labyrinth as the aliens arrival reveals to these once self assured character’s that maybe…they don’t know it all. Christians’ start to teach lessons on space, photographer’s take identical pictures of the alien and the actress, everything seems to blend and collapse in on itself for these character’s as much as the plot does. After the alien visits, the immediate quarantine is juxtaposed by rampant commercialization. It doesn’t take long for American’s to capitalize on anything and everything exciting, dangerous, or both for the sake of profit. While this particular point does not reach a level of depth I would call innovative, it was presented to the audience carefully enough to appreciate. Subtle, underdeveloped; the line is thin, but the same cannot be said for the existentialist themes.

Schwartzman/Steenbeck/Hall storms out of the play after the alien arrives again, hopelessly lost. He begs to the play’s director, stating he has no idea what his role is, what the play means, and desperately requests answers…to which there are none. Steenbeck is playing his role perfectly because he has no answers, all that there is to do is continue the story. Again, Kermode’s points on subtlety are fair, but with so many Anderson critics saying that his movies lack emotion or meaning, I again return to that angry letterboxd user with plain confusion, as for all of Anderson’s films, I find this the one with the most to say.

And because of that, I find it difficult to truly take nothing away from this movie; the themes and emotions are the most present as they’ve ever been in an Anderson film, and it is executed with that same level of quality audiences have grown to love, or as we’ve seen, hate, and then some. If the biggest critique of Anderson is he is all flare, meaning all filler, then Asteroid City is here to at least tease that assumption. The pastel’s present an illusion of an ideal American frontier to act as a base for the film’s themes. Camera movements are more varied and dynamic than they ever have been. I particularly enjoyed when the camera zoomed out as Steenbeck speaks to Midge Campbell, famous actress also struggling with a lack of purpose, about the importance of personal connection, only to zoom in when discussing his career. Taking place early in the film, where Steenbeck is yet to learn that Anderson’s answer to existential dread is accepting the absurdism and crafting genuine connection, subverting the movement of the camera visually displays the character’s flaws and arc to come. Call me an Anderson fanboy, but I simply struggle to see how the “style over substance” argument holds much merit in Anderson’s latest. If it means anything, this is the only Anderson film where I came close to tears, where I took a moment as the credits rolled just to take it all in. Again, call me a simpleton that can be entertained by “low art” if that’s how you view Anderson, but I would argue that maybe, just maybe, he actually just made a quality film.

It has its faults to be certain; the trend of ensemble casts that make up Anderson’s films has reach its maximum potential here to the point of unintentional comedy, with some of the most notable actors in Hollywood given roles presented through advertising material as crucial, when in the film their character’s are nothing more than cardboard. For the character’s that received proper attention, they are some of Anderson’s best, but for those that didn’t, I can hardly call them character’s at all. But again, if you’re just not a fan of Wes Anderson, then skip this one. It will not convince you that he is the auteur so many praise him to be. In fact, some moments may only enrage you further. But this viewer, one that is not a die hard fan nor hater of Wes’ works, Asteroid City stands as one of Anderson’s more meaningful and competent films with its visuals that at times push his unique style, dialogue that is as goofy and emotional as ever, and themes tightly focused on existentialism executed to a level that nearly brought me to tears. In that way, hey, maybe Asteroid City really is all about nothing.