In an atmosphere of ever-expanding films of budgets unimaginable and star-studded casts, the work of long-appraised filmmakers, such as the controversial and unique Wes Anderson, is more essential than ever. Now a household name in independent and somewhat genre-bending films, Anderson’s style has cemented itself as an essential part of the landscape of modern filmmaking, with Anderson himself taking home several Oscars after becoming a preeminent nominee in the modern filmmaking environment. 

Anderson’s success is not surprising to a frequent viewer of his films, as his central aim is not simply to make great films, but also to provide a refreshing and exciting voice, not only in opposition to the more modern blockbusters but also to other seriously intentioned films that lack his flare and purpose. Anderson, at his most pure, is a director’s reaction to films that have become detached from the individual human experience in desire for a wide-reaching appeal or for some political message. His work asserts that we can make movies that say something, but also make the viewer feel a host of emotions — laughter, and sarcasm being essential ingredients.

Anderson’s versions of Fantastic Mr. Fox caught my attention at the young age of ten and kept my eyes glued to his various films throughout my early adolescent years, with this film in particular demonstrating to me something I had never seen before in film or perhaps even in writing. The hopeful and joyous Fantastic Mr. Fox is portrayed with something of a mature sarcasm, with an imperfect and somewhat hopeful ending that helped me to grapple with the difficult concept that everything would be all right eventually, even if things aren’t all right for a while. 

It is precisely this resilient and self-aware blind hope that gives Anderson his unique vision. In worlds that are often pseudo-apocalyptic with characters near disaster, Anderson uses talented actors and good writing to bring the beauty of human interaction and the conscious experience to the big screen, maintaining the principle that there will always be good people.

Hope, in the twenty-first century, is something that is difficult to define as it appears in film and popular culture, likely due to the fact that in such a sociopolitical environment, its presence necessitates that it emerge from a deep cynicism. This is exactly what Anderson accomplishes, as each of his protagonists is at some point defeated and beaten down. This deviates from a traditional story arc of failure and clear redemption, as hope exists as something of an end in and of itself in Anderson’s work. His belief is clearly demonstrated to be that if we can be hopeful, we can be happy, and perhaps we really will be all right.

The 2009 film Fantastic Mr. Fox functions as an exploration and a criticism of the American dream as in this tale, it is the ambitious and restless Mr. Fox’s return to a life of crime which casts him and his family down a literal hole in the ground to avoid the nightmarish tractors of nearby farmers, disseminating his community in his wake. The problem is, Mr. Fox is for the first time alive as he struggles against a clear foe. But rather than emphasizing or glorifying this internal and external archetypal struggle as in Dostoyevsky’s Crime and Punishment, or its symbolic modern counterpart Breaking Bad, Anderson focuses on something else, the resolution, and how Mr. Fox holds on to his family after all.

While Anderson’s films are certainly not without their flaws and often warrant complaints, they establish the aim of telling a new story, particularly one about those who have been abandoned or disregarded in the past. This archetype, often mishandled by Hollywood goliaths, can be used to demonstrate how good acting and a budget that doesn’t exceed a small nation’s GDP, can be superior to larger films provided they possess artistic vision. A prime example of one of Anderson’s nostalgic masterpieces is the 2001 film The Royal Tenenbaums.

This movie tells the story of a family of former prodigies, defined by their wealth and the parting of their formerly rich father, Royal. Royal, out of money, and having lost his ability to reside in the hotel he has lived in for the past twenty-some years, must reenter the family under the guise of having terminal stomach cancer. Each of the family’s children have a variety of issues inherited from their former glory and the consequent fall to normality and mediocrity. Owen Wilson plays the role of Eli, the family’s friend that’s always around, and best friend of the family’s tennis prodigy Richie. In essence The Royal Tenenbaums is a study of a deeply dysfunctional but somewhat brilliant family and what it means to heal. There is no character devoid of charm or sympathy, all objectively somewhat awful but somehow lovable. Such is the craft of Wes Anderson. It is the art of creating something that is not lacking knowledge of its own inanity and childishness. In essence, Anderson’s work helps to convey a very real, human perspective, which exists as a semi-ironic critique of this hope simultaneously. 

Anderson applies his sarcastic and cynical melancholy quite well in his film Moonrise Kingdom, released in 2012, via his affection for the stubborn and ludicrous mindsets of the youth. The film’s structures are a nod to this order, with ridiculous hierarchies and almost all-encompassing powers attributed to a bureaucracy of boy scout leaders, and strange phrases such as “Your girlfriend stabbed me in the back with lefty scissors!”

This film details the struggles and love of two young outcasts, who trek through the wilderness of a forgotten town in Maine and wander the wild landscape. The most notable characters include the adults in the lives of these children, and the sources of neglect and rejection that sparked their departure. In essence, the film is about misfits with good hearts who are often rejected and demeaned by those around them, even if they might be some of the most wonderful people around. 

Anderson has a love affair with hidden beauty, and this is clearly communicated in his nostalgic sets and soundtrack decisions; the image of a quiet, little, messy, beautiful family is almost a part of his “formula.” Anderson isn’t alone in aspiring to this cliché, as the unique quality of his films is created not by the freshness of this idea but rather the awareness of its flaws. Rather than presenting his nostalgia-filled and darkly comedic world as an objective depiction of reality, Anderson shows it as a way to look at the world. Anderson asserts that we must choose to see beauty in the desperate, weak, and lonely. 

The degree to which Anderson’s whimsical colors each film varies from movie to movie, with Isle of Dogs demonstrating a greater level of detachment from reality than any other of Anderson’s works, yet somehow remaining grounded in the human condition. It tells the story of a group of dogs on an island isolated by the dog flu, and how a brave boy leaves his father to save them. This hopeful tale brought new beauty to Anderson’s portfolio, perfecting and improving upon the experiments with color and animation in Fantastic Mr. Fox.

While Anderson’s brilliant 2021 film, The French Dispatch, captured the essence of Anderson’s multi-decade style, The Grand Budapest Hotel features his highest highs and indicates the brilliant direction his work might be headed. This masterpiece of a synthesis of Stefan Zweig’s literary works functions as more than just a portrait of 20th-century eastern Europe, but also an exploration of the aimless and absurd adventures of two of the most compelling characters throughout all of Anderson’s work. Zero and M. Gustave are not only perhaps the two most amusing characters across all of Anderson’s work, but they are also those who develop the most meaningful connection with one another throughout the course of the film.

The Grand Budapest Hotel, among the rest of Anderson’s brilliant works, act as an emotional and historical collage, whose central aim is the creation of a self-aware hope, motivating the viewer to push into the seemingly helpless beyond. Anderson’s voice is here to stay, and when it must finally leave us, it will be met with gratitude and admiration.

Wes Anderson’s most recent work is Asteroid City, currently playing in theaters and also available for streaming HERE.

Anderson has a love affair with hidden beauty, and this is clearly communicated in his nostalgic sets and soundtrack decisions; the image of a quiet, little, messy, beautiful family is almost a part of his “formula.” Anderson isn’t alone in aspiring to this cliché, as the unique quality of his films is created not by the freshness of this idea but rather the awareness of its flaws. Rather than presenting his nostalgia-filled and darkly comedic world as an objective depiction of reality, Anderson shows it as a way to look at the world. Anderson asserts that we must choose to see beauty in the desperate, weak, and lonely.