The French Dispatch is a literary magazine and the only beacon of class and culture for its readers in Liberty, Kansas.  After the death of its editor Arthur Howitzer Jr. (Bill Murray), the staff adheres to his wishes in publishing one farewell edition before shutting down operations.  The film that follows delves into a short travel section, three republished pieces, and finally the obituary for the esteemed and beloved editor in chief. 

Wes Anderson’s anthology film doubles as a love letter to journalism, but not in the typical hunt for integrity and the freedom of the press angle that other newsroom films have followed in the past.  Rather, Anderson embraces the freedom that words afford their writers to be able to capture a unique moment in time and to transport their readers regardless of the distance of time and space.   

The film opens with a brief introduction to the plot at the news office and quickly transitions to the cycling travel writer, Herbsaint Sazerac (Owen Wilson).  As he cycles through the streets of France, we are treated to a diverse cast of locals in a rather cute and charming introduction to the setting.  There is the typical symmetry and visual juxtaposition that is to be expected from Anderson at work here.  It would have been neat if this had some subtle hints about the stories to come, but it, like the three stories to follow, all exist in a vacuum connected only by the binding of the titular publication. 

The first story we see is “The Concrete Masterpiece” which revolves around a convict-turned-artist Moses Rosenthaler (Benicio del Toro), his prison guard-turned-muse Simone (Léa Seydoux), and the comically villainous art dealer, Julien Cadazio (Adrien Brody).  It is the most straightforward of the three, and honestly the most engaging.  It is absurd, sure, but its simplicity helps ease us into the film and of the three it is also the most interesting and begs to be broken into a full feature.  It is framed as a lecture given by French Dispatch correspondent J.K.L. Berensen (Tilda Swinton) who brings a strange and frankly unnecessary erotic energy to the short.  While Simone is seen posing in the nude and there is certainly some sexual tension between her and her inmate, the alluded to relations had between Berensen and Rosenthaler is unwelcome and jarring.  Thankfully, when we are in the story proper, del Toro seems to be having a lot of fun in the role of the troubled artist and he gives an incredibly captivating performance.  The chemistry between him and Seydoux is strange, to say the least, but they work well together, and the dynamic is a joy to watch on screen. 

The second article is “Revisions of a Manifesto” which finds reporter Lucinda Krementz (Frances McDormand) profiling two student revolutionaries: Zeffirelli (Timothée Chalamet) and Juliette (Lyna Khoudri).  This middle piece is an absolute mess in what feels like a poor parody of a Louis Malle coming-of-age film.  It creates a strange and unnecessary love triangle between the reporter and the two students not to mention that the black and white coloring here becomes distractingly glaring.  While “The Concrete Masterpiece” is largely shot in black and white reserving its few moments of color for when Berensen’s work is in the frame, it seems to be an unsupported – or rather undefined as nothing happens by accident in an Anderson film – choice here.  Chalamet, and it is hard to say if he is overacting the part here or if it is just poorly written, does not seem to have the same control over character as he typically displays in his previous efforts, and the confusing chemistry between him and both Khoudri and McDormand only serves to highlight the uncomfortable performance.  Bouncing between chess, and war, and love, and growing up, it seems like it has a lot to say but is really empty and a bit of a slog to get through. 

Thankfully, despite being the most visually overwhelming of the bunch, the third and final story “The Private Dining Room of the Police Commissioner” is much more coherent than “Revisions” was.  The caper is most reminiscent of Anderson’s 2014 masterwork, The Grand Budapest Hotel, in its antics and does make for an enjoyable finish.  It follows the kidnapping of the Police Commissaire’s (Mathieu Amalric) son, Gigi (Winston Ait Hellal) as told by food critic Roebuck Wright (Jeffrey Wright) to an unnamed talk show host played by Liev Schreiber.  Like del Toro, Wright seems to be really enjoying himself in this story and while it has some dark undertones which are not unknown for Anderson, of the three stories, this one has the most levity.  It moves at breakneck speeds as it switches between four distinct storylines and Anderson really pushes the limits of the sheer volume of everything that he can put in the frame happening at once, so much so that even the careful viewer will feel as if they are always missing some of the action and artistry at work here.   

While the film does not go too deeply into who these writers are, it does clearly define them and their individual styles.  As an anthology film, unfortunately, the framing device is the most interesting part.  Watching these big personalities interact both with Howitzer and each other are the best moments of the film.  Without getting too much into any armchair screenwriting, there is a much more interesting way to tell this story – even with the cutaways – by reworking the framing device and it would give some much-needed life and energy into the rather stagnant film if the staff were, for instance, rushing to meet a deadline.  It would also give Alumna (Elizabeth Moss) more to do as the copy editor, who, despite her incredibly brief bit of screentime was far and away the most intriguing character of the lot.  

It is also disappointing that the three stories did not appear to have a more clearly defined thematic through-line.  There is a weak argument to be made that it is all about how an artist’s work, once complete, no longer belongs to the creator.  It is most clearly presented in looking at how the modern art world responded to Moses’ magnum opus, but it does not ever show us the real effect of Zeffirelli’s manifesto, and it is a big stretch to say that Lt. Nescaffier’s (Stephen Park) meal is the focal point of the third story.  More so than his previous films which all tell single stories in equally elaborate worlds, The French Dispatch seems to be almost all style with very minimal substance.  

With The French Dispatch, Anderson is laying his claim to being seen as a modern Karel Zeman as he masterfully blends multiple animation styles with live-action.  Released by Searchlight Pictures, the 108-minute film has all the makings of a typical Anderson film – extensive and star-studded cast list, quirky story, and intensely deliberate production design – but magnified to the point that even the most devout of Anderson loyalists may find their patience tested by the director’s eccentricities.