The French Dispatch * * *

There is a sign over the door of the protagonists office saying "No Crying".  For the audience there is little chance of that!  The drama in The French Dispatch gives you little reason to cry, worry, empathize or much else. It does raise the odd chuckle, I'll give it that.

On ya bike!

Wes Anderson has done it again. Another film that is all about decor, imagery, location and framing. He's like Roy Andersson on a bad day but lacking the irony. Roy invites you to giggle, Wes seems to want you to admire.

It's about a fictitious magazine set in France but primarily for an American readership.  Some "dispatches" are re-enacted for us.  One is from a bicyclist who reports what he sees from his bike, one is from a reporter who tells us about a psychopathic painter, one about a student revolution, one about a kidnapping and ransom.  They're amusing enough but honestly you just don't give a shit!  It's like listening to a shaggy dog story.  You're drawn it but hardly involved or concerned about the characters.

Every frame is so perfectly composed and Lea Seydoux gets naked, but like a lot of gorgeous looking things that draw you in, after a while you might also find that it really is quite vacuous.