#AccidentallyWesAnderson; a hashtag that saw immense popularity on social media in the past year. A trend centered around noticing the patterns in everyday life that mimic the cinematography of one of the most popular directors of our time. His style is distinctive, to say the least. Vivid, highly saturated neon hues, figures taking up carefully designed spaces, and symmetry that is both carefully utilized and broken. His work feels dreamy, yet grounded in reality- his films often take everyday individuals and situations and turn them grandiose and fantastical in ways that are unexpected and whimsical. These elements often culminate in scenes that feel at once comical and deeply meaningful. That said, he keeps disappointing me.
Anderson is one of those directors whose films I’ll always go see, and always leave slightly wanting more. Not because the films are bad in any way, but because (and this is my own fault) I always go in with something of an expectation of how he’s going to surprise me. I enjoy those signature “Wes Anderson” shots just as much as anyone. Still, The Phoenician Scheme felt almost like watching a video with the aforementioned hashtag– a pastiche of a style rather than the style itself. However, there are some compositions in this film that truly did feel like a breath of fresh air. For example, the dream sequences that utilized a total grayscale, felt truly jarring because they broke up the constant barrage of color and paired perfectly with the bizarre action happening within the scenes.
But my favorite shot? Well, it happens during the big fight scene between Zsa-Zsa and Uncle Nubar. There are a couple incredible and classic shots here, using stairs and perspective to play with the power structure and the relationship they share. Watching Anderson usually very masterfully fit action that feels frantic into a stationary, manicured shot is always a lot of fun. But, this particular shot is my favorite because he doesn’t do “Wes Anderson”. My favorite shot is a simple 5-second tracking shot, following Uncle Nubar as he pursues Zsa-Zsa down a hallway. In any other movie, this shot would be easily buried under all the many others generally used to show frenzied action: violently shaky camera work. But in an Anderson film, to say my mouth opened in shock is not an exaggeration. It felt alien and strange- it caught my attention immediately and the second it was over, I found myself wanting to stay for the next showing just so I could see it again.
This is where my disappointment begins. When an artist has such an instantly recognizable look; a calling card that borders on branding that can (granted, often without the depth of effect) be replicated, I start to want a little subversion. I’ve seen all the movies, all the shots, and I know he can make those well-crafted, perfectly balanced visuals, he’s proven that time and time again. But after an hour and change of taking in these stunning shots, to me, they lose their punch and stop feeling quite so powerful.
I’m reminded of something my film teacher told us my freshman year of high school, “I teach you all of these rules, so one day you can break them”. This tracking shot is so stunning to me because it flies in the face of everything Wes Anderson usually is. It’s not polished or clean, it took everything I expected from an Anderson film and totally flipped it on its head; he broke his own rules. But immediately, it was over, and the camera affixed itself nicely to the far corners of rooms and resumed its job of carefully framing his square masterpieces. During the short instant of this shot, I had a hope that maybe the rest of the sequence may be filmed in this way. I mourn the chance to see these two characters who both prize themselves on showing only what they want you to see duking it out imperfectly, both in action and visually. For many, I feel that taking this route would have been a disappointment, but I think the inclusion of such a narratively well-timed subversion would have pushed this film from good to great.
When you look back at Anderson’s first project, Bottle Rockets, you can really get a sense of just how entrenched in this style he has become. It is beautifully messy; it’s rough around the edges and while obviously an early work, it proves to me that Anderson can tell a very powerful story without wholly relying on imagery to do so. In all, however, I really did enjoy The Phoenician Scheme more than some of his previous films because I truly believe Anderson is beginning to push the envelope of what is expected from him; retaining the quirk and emotion that make his plots so endearing, while trying out slightly new ways to tell these stories through novel visuals. So, I will keep showing up every time Anderson’s got a new movie out, and I feel perfectly confident that the next one will find another small way to abate my disappointment. Grenade?
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