Photo provided by IMDB.
For two decades, Anderson fanatics have memorialized beloved characters and memorable motifs in the form of Halloween costumes and tattoos. But during the last several months, the internet has been witness to a resurgence in references and reproductions of the director’s style. Artificial Intelligence has generated reimaginings of other film franchises à la Anderson and TikTok users have replicated the director in homemade videos of neighborhoods, vacations, and college campuses — even childbirth.
“Asteroid City”, which arrived in theaters mid-June, feels a little like a TikTok video, too. The film dances across the screen with an unchecked sense of urgency and rushes its punchlines. (When the app debuted, users were limited to fifteen-second uploads.) TikTok is uniquely characterized by its “For You” page, which collects data about users’ viewing habits, analyzes their interests, and identifies their senses of humor in order to better generate videos and curate a hyper-specific homepage. Anderson’s latest film achieves something similar — every turn of phrase, every transition, every ripple of text feels like a wink and a nudge from the director. While watching, I found myself scouring the screen for additions meant for only the most attentive audience members, and I suspect this was Anderson’s intention. Given his cult-like following, instantly recognizable style, and ten feature films already under his belt, Anderson seems to envision an in-group as his audience for “Asteroid City.” While his work has always been off-beat and interesting, whether for film fanatics, Anderson obsessives, or casual moviegoers, this one is borderline inaccessible.
Like a Russian nesting doll, “Asteroid City”’s storytelling situates several worlds within each other. Television host (Bryan Cranston) explains that an already-existent play is being produced for TV. Audience members witness not just the on-air version, but the real-life production, and get a glimpse into what goes on backstage. Anderson attempts to distinguish these intricate layers with black-and-white footage, but instead of expertly mingling time, place, and people, the result is muddled and disorienting.
In any case — or rather, in each case — the story follows half-a-dozen genius kids, gathered in the desert for an outer space summer program. Much of the movie’s action revolves around a brief but memorable visit from an alien who reclaims — and eventually returns — a piece of a meteorite.
Granted, Anderson’s films always feel a bit unreal and self-skeptical. Audiences, by delicate design, are held at arm’s length, able to escape their own realities but not entirely able to step into Anderson’s. The director’s characters, by contrast, rarely question their circumstances, however unsettling or strange. Anderson’s carefully-constructed characters may think critically and act emotively, but they are blissfully ignorant and rarely self-aware.
As is usually the case while watching Anderson, “Asteroid City” made me feel as if I was on the outside of the film’s world. Uniquely, this time, the film’s characters are equally removed from their surroundings. Even those couched comfortably in the Southwestern landscape or spotlighted on stage appear befuddled by the absurdity of Anderson’s creation. (This phenomenon is made all the more interesting by the appearance of an alien.)
Until now, Anderson has been a master of reinvention. The director has walked, gracefully, the narrow line between consistent and repetitive. But “Asteroid City” is so self-referencing that it ceases to be captivating or clever, and misses the mark of annoyingly-but-tolerably-cocky. Instead, the film feels altogether redundant.
There are, of course, strengths to “Asteroid City.” Like Anderson’s most masterful films, teenage characters are rendered endearingly awkward and dysfunctional family dynamics are on full display. Though “Asteroid City” was filmed in central Spain, the American Southwest setting is unlike anything else Anderson has attempted. (“Bottle Rocket”, which kick-started Aderson’s career in 1996, comes closest, but films between then and now have been set underground, in urban jungles, and underwater.) The film is grounded in this frontier; Anderson uses untouchable horizons to his advantage and infuses an otherwise lifeless landscape with energy.
Jake Ryan, who plays Woodrow Steinbeck, is another strength. The young actor is so Andersonian, it is as if the director grew him in a lab — or generated him with Artificial Intelligence. Alongside recurring actors like Jason Schwartzman, Ryan brings a relieving freshness to the arid filmscape and venerable cast list. The young actor is accompanied on screen by Hollywood-old-timers and Anderson-first-timers — faces like those of Scarlett Johansen and Tom Hanks are familiar but reframed in “Asteroid City.”
Hanks’ performance is particularly notable, if only for its mediocrity. Hanks is an obvious stand-in for Bill Murray, the seasoned actor who has long been a staple in Anderon’s projects. (Prior to “Asteroid City”, Murray appeared in all but one film.) The actor was originally was slotted to play the role of the attentive, if air-headed, motel owner until he tested positive for COVID-19 days before shooting was scheduled to begin. As Anderson explained to The New Yorker, timing was tight and production was urgent — at the last minute, Murray’s part would go to Steve Carrell.
I am prone to unconditional applause and uncritical awe of Anderson’s work, but I left the theater feeling uninspired by “Asteroid City.” The film is imaginative, but not as inventive as its predecessors. Previous projects are stylistically similar, but each one offers something new — whether in setting, story, or style. In “Asteroid City”, by contrast, Anderson amalgamates everything he has already created and assumes that a loyal fanbase will keep the whole thing afloat.