Respond to these rapid questions in our The French Dispatch quiz and we will tell you which The French Dispatch character you are. Play it now.
Wes Anderson stated in a 2019 interview with Charente Libre that his new film, “The French Dispatch,” was “not easy to explain.” He’s correct; it isn’t, and any attempt to explain it would deconstruct it in such a way that it would sound even more incomprehensible. It’s the equivalent of taking apart a clock to see how it works and then realizing that you have no idea what time it is. A clock is an apt metaphor for Anderson’s style, which can be found in all of his films but is particularly prominent in this one. “The French Dispatch,” which is composed of a dizzying array of whirring intersecting teeny tiny parts, ticks forward relentlessly, never pausing to take a breath and barely pausing for reflection. A number of the more endearing qualities of his earlier films are absent from “The French Dispatch,” such as the prep school antics of “Rushmore,” the intimate family dynamics of “The Royal Tenenbaums” and “The Darjeeling Limited,” or the focus on children in “Moonrise Kingdom.” “The French Dispatch,” on the other hand, keeps the audience at a distance, and as a result, the film is a stronger one. It’s fascinating to watch Anderson pursue his obsession to its logical conclusion (although it’s difficult to imagine how much further he could go). Although the movie is difficult to explain, it is extremely entertaining to watch. It’s a delirious, fast-paced film about a world that moves very slowly and doesn’t change.
In “The French Dispatch,” Anderson’s obsession (the word “obsession” is key) is The New Yorker, specifically The New Yorker during the time of finicky founder/editor Harold Ross and his daunting roster of writers—including James Thurber, A.J. Liebling, Joseph Mitchell, Rosamond Bernier, and James Baldwin—all of whom were given enormous leeway in terms of subject matter and process, but were edited to within an inch of their lives to align their prose with the aggressive
In the fictionalized New Yorker, the newspaper is called The French Dispatch, and it is published out of a small French town called Ennui-sur-Blasé, despite the fact that it was founded and raised in the Kansas town of Liberty, where editor Arthur Howitzer, Jr. (Bill Murray) grew up. (One of the many “A-ha” moments of trivia sprinkled throughout the book is the fact that the magazine was originally called Picnic.) Independence, Kansas, was the birthplace of playwright William Inge, who is best known for his 1953 play Picnic. Understand the terms “Liberty” and “Independence?” There’s no significance to any of this, but it’s entertaining if you notice it.) Howitzer is surrounded by a dedicated team of people who are in charge of supervising a group of eccentric writers who are all hard at work finishing pieces for the upcoming issue. As a result, “The French Dispatch” does not delve into the personal lives of its characters, but rather focuses on their professional lives. The film’s structure is that of an issue of the magazine, in which you literally step into the pages and “read” three separate stories. To begin with, we have an opening sequence in the style of Jacques Tati that is clearly a parody of The New Yorker’s classic, “The Talk of the Town,” with Herbsaint Sazerac (Owen Wilson, looking dapper in a black beret and turtleneck) bicycling through the town of Ennui-sur-Blasé and showing us the sights (and speaking directly to the camera, causing some unfortunate collisions).
But you shouldn’t waste any more time and start this The French Dispatch quiz.
One of the magazine stories revolves around Moses Rosenthaler (Benicio Del Toro), a brilliant artist serving a life sentence for homicide who is also involved in a love affair with Simone (Léa Seydoux), who serves as his muse, promoter, and prison guard in the first film. Julius Cadazio, Moses’ representative in the high-falutin’ art world, is played by Adrien Brody, who engages in wheeling and dealing in order to get Moses’ work into the public eye. Second, a whimsical pantomime of the 1968 student protests in Paris, presented in Godardesque pastiche, with Timothée Chalamet as Zeffirelli, a moody revolutionary (is there any other kind?) and Frances McDormand as Lucinda Krementz, the journalist for the Paris-based French Dispatch, whose objectivity is compromised when she inserts herself into the story. (This section is clearly influenced by Mavis Gallant’s 1968 coverage of the protests for The New Yorker, “The Events in May: A Paris Notebook,” which was published in the same year.) Towards the end of the film, writer Roebuck Wright (Jeffrey Wright) attempts to profile a legendary chef named Nescaffier (Steve Park), who works his culinary magic in the police department’s kitchen. Roebuck Wright is something of a mashup of James Baldwin and A.J. Liebling (with a dash of M.F.K. Fisher thrown in). Each story is told in its own unique style, with Anderson employing animation, graphics, still lifes, visual puns, and gags, all of which are tied together by the thread of Alexandre Desplat’s score and Anderson’s unwavering commitment to his vision of the world.
The French Dispatch Quiz
Wes Anderson is one of the few filmmakers who has a distinct style all his own. (There’s an entire book called Accidentally Wes Anderson, which is comprised of photographs taken all over the world of buildings and landscapes that appear to be taken by Anderson himself.) He is obsessed with two things: objects and the memory of things that happened in the past. In the context of Anderson’s miniature diorama world, seemingly insignificant everyday objects take on new meaning. He perceives objects in the same way that the artist Joseph Cornell perceived them. Cornell became obsessed with collecting what was deemed “junk” (marbles, old maps, tiny glass jars), junk that was transformed into magical talismans when placed in his now-famous boxes, which are now on display around the world. Cornell’s fetishism is evident in his work, which makes it all a little unnerving in a really beautiful way, despite its beauty. However, in the world of art, the distinction between obsession and fetishism isn’t as important as it might seem. Anderson’s objects are luminous as a result of his meticulous attention to detail: he genuinely cares about each and every one of them. I’m reminded of a line from Oscar Wilde’s novel The Picture of Dorian Gray: “Those who are superficial are the ones who do not judge by appearances. The visible world, rather than the invisible, contains the true mystery of the universe.” Anderson is able to see the mystery hidden within the visible.
Also, you will find out which character are you in this The French Dispatch quiz.
In a way, Anderson’s obsession with objects is related to his other obsession, which is nostalgia. Nostalgia is universal, but it can be difficult to understand. What one person longs for in the past may be another’s worst nightmare in the present (and vice versa). In a cliched film, nostalgia manifests itself in the form of a warm golden glow (assumed to be universal). Anderson’s nostalgia, on the other hand, is not like that. His is a very specific example. A reason why some people find his work repulsive is that he is an alien. That is why you are in the presence of a true obsessive-compulsive. Consider the example of J.D. Salinger’s Franny and Zooey: if you have no desire to live inside the fictional world of Franny and Zooey, you will find it difficult to enter Anderson’s dreamspace. In the case of “The French Dispatch,” the same can be said. That Anderson feels nostalgic for things that occurred before his own lifetime, however, is the most intriguing aspect of this story. He feels longingly for fictional worlds, for objects that are now considered obsolete, for the rhythms of a long-ago time that he did not even have the opportunity to witness. This is not to say that his nostalgia isn’t purely subjective. Yes, it is. One more quote, this time from Nancy Lemann’s eccentric novel The Fiery Pantheon: “She had a nostalgic yearning for a life she had never experienced.”
About the quiz
This isn’t so much about what “The French Dispatch” is about as it is about what it caused me to consider. That a film as dense, dazzling, and visually inconsistent as this one leaves so much room for free association is perplexing, but that is exactly what happens. That’s a cute and endearing trait.
Also, you must try to play this The French Dispatch quiz.
The film is currently showing in theaters.
For more personality quizzes check this: Eternals Quiz.
