The Enigmatic “Asteroid City”: A Deep Dive into Wes Anderson’s Latest
Wes Anderson’s new film, “Asteroid City,” has finally been released, and the anticipation among fans has been building since its debut at the Cannes Film Festival in May.
However, with a modest 2.2 score from the festival’s daily publication and widespread criticism from the media, domestic fans who were eagerly awaiting the film’s release were left with a sense of unease. After all, Anderson, the quirky director who achieved mainstream success with “The Grand Budapest Hotel,” inevitably sparks fervent discussion with each new project.
Following its release, “Asteroid City” has garnered mixed reviews, with both Douban and IMDb scores settling at 6.8, and a 73% freshness rating on Rotten Tomatoes. Whether from casual viewers or professional critics, the consensus seems to be that this film falls short when compared to Anderson’s previous works.
Despite the lukewarm reception, “Asteroid City” boasts an impressive ensemble cast. It features familiar faces from Anderson’s filmography, such as Jason Schwartzman, Edward Norton, Tilda Swinton, and Tony Revolori, alongside newcomers like Scarlett Johansson, Tom Hanks, and Bryan Cranston.
Even the minor supporting roles and cameos are filled by A-list stars like Willem Dafoe and Margot Robbie.
Given its promising appearance, what exactly went wrong with “Asteroid City”? Why has it left so many fans disappointed?
A Narrative Labyrinth: Unpacking the Story Structure
From a structural perspective, the film follows in the footsteps of “The Grand Budapest Hotel” and “The French Dispatch,” employing a nested narrative structure with chaptered storytelling.
“The Grand Budapest Hotel” adopted a novelistic approach, while “The French Dispatch” emulated a magazine format. In “Asteroid City,” the story unfolds through the lens of a stage play.
However, the film’s initial entry point isn’t the play itself, but rather a television broadcast hosted by Bryan Cranston’s character.
Addressing the audience directly, he introduces us to Conrad Earp, the playwright, portrayed by Edward Norton, who is in the process of creating a remarkable work – a bizarre tale set in a small Western town in the 1950s.
This is followed by scenes of Earp reading excerpts from the script, interspersed with glimpses of the actors involved. Once Earp has provided the basic context for the play, the camera transitions into the main feature: the performance of the play itself.
Thus, “Asteroid City” presents a three-layered narrative structure: the outermost perspective represented by the television host, the intermediate perspective represented by Earp, and the innermost perspective represented by the play’s performance. The first two layers utilize black-and-white imagery with a 1.37:1 aspect ratio, signifying reality, while the play’s content is presented in color with a 2.39:1 aspect ratio, representing fiction.
While these three perspectives intertwine and interact, the core of the film lies in the play’s performance. This means that Anderson’s signature macaron-colored visuals are still abundant.
The main story is relatively straightforward: a group of parents with gifted children arrive in the titular “Asteroid City” to receive science awards and observe astronomical phenomena. However, the appearance of an alien leads to their quarantine within the town, cutting them off from the outside world.
During this period, the parents form emotional connections, and the gifted children experience budding romances.
Scarlett Johansson’s portrayal of the actress Midge Campbell and Jason Schwartzman’s role as war photographer Augie Steenbeck emerge as the most fleshed-out characters within the play. Midge grapples with the tragedies of her upbringing and a string of failed marriages, while Augie struggles with the recent loss of his wife and the burden of breaking the news to his children.
The Enigma Within: Decoding Anderson’s Intentions
If the film were simply a straightforward narrative, it wouldn’t be difficult to grasp. However, Anderson clearly aims for something more complex, seeking to convey a multitude of emotions and information.
Throughout the play’s performance, the characters deliver dialogue that is both information-dense and often abrupt and isolated. Moreover, they don’t behave like real-life individuals, but rather like characters from Beckett’s “Waiting for Godot,” engaging in absurd activities to pass the time.
Furthermore, Earp’s auditions with the actors, the actors’ sudden departures from the stage to question the meaning of a particular action, and the “dream” discussions held at the acting workshop when Earp faces creative blocks – these perplexing interludes serve as both the key to unlocking “Asteroid City’s” deeper meaning and the source of its impenetrability.
It’s evident that Anderson has entered a more personal and immersive state of filmmaking. The origins of this approach can perhaps be traced back to 2001’s “The Royal Tenenbaums.”
In that film, Anderson first experimented with chaptered storytelling.
Borrowing a novel titled “The Royal Tenenbaums” from a library, stamping it, taking it away, turning the pages, and presenting the text of the preface – this opening montage feels like Anderson’s mischievous grin, signaling his intention to construct his own fairytale fortress using a more “closed-off” narrative approach.
Although more than a decade passed, yielding diverse road-trip adventures like “The Darjeeling Limited” and “Moonrise Kingdom,” “The Grand Budapest Hotel” finally realized Anderson’s almost childlike dream.
“The French Dispatch” is an extension of this dream, while “Asteroid City” represents its ultimate evolution. The characters in the latter not only retain their underlying sadness but also attempt to break free from its constraints through tantrums and a carefree attitude.
Furthermore, whether it’s the novel chapter format, the magazine section style, or the stage play presentation, all of these are Anderson’s psychological defense mechanisms. He inherently empathizes with characters who are eccentric, rebellious, and unconventional.
Like the adopted daughter in “The Royal Tenenbaums,” the runaway teenagers in “Moonrise Kingdom,” the hotel manager in “The Grand Budapest Hotel,” and the mad painter in “The French Dispatch.”
These characters’ personalities are akin to Sheldon Cooper from “The Big Bang Theory,” combined with the psychopathic killer from “No Country for Old Men”: lacking empathy, excelling in certain areas, yet still possessing pitiable qualities.
In his earlier works, such as “Bottle Rocket” and “Rushmore,” Anderson created opposing forces to highlight these characters’ discomfort with societal norms.
However, starting with “The Royal Tenenbaums,” Anderson gradually achieved inner reconciliation in his creative process. He no longer needs external forces to dictate to his “little people.” These eccentric characters can exist logically within their own self-contained “castles.”
And this “castle” is the nested structure, the chaptered storytelling.
The difference is that the “castle” in “The Grand Budapest Hotel” is endearing and welcoming, filled with nostalgia for the old-world order and the warmth and coldness of human relationships that accompany it. However, starting with “The French Dispatch,” and especially in “Asteroid City,” this “castle” becomes increasingly ambiguous, and the “little people” within, while still pitiable, are no longer as lovable.
To put it more bluntly, Anderson dabbles in the styles of David Lynch and Charlie Kaufman in “Asteroid City,” alternating between moments of shock and awe and intricate, winding narratives.
Even though the film retains its macaron color palette and obsessive-compulsive compositions, these external forms cannot conceal the sudden shift in its core.
It’s likely that fans will still eagerly anticipate Anderson’s next project, but only if he either returns to the more reliable formula of “The Grand Budapest Hotel” or finds a more suitable narrative approach for his “varied core.” Otherwise, he risks becoming increasingly trapped within the confines of his own stylistic conventions.