Both
fans and detractors of filmmaker Wes Anderson will admit that he is nothing if
not a man with a unique vision and a specific, easily recognizable style. First
and foremost, that is a commendable and increasingly rare quality in filmmakers
these days. However, when you have a style as obsessive and idiosyncratic as Anderson’s,
it can also potentially be your own worst enemy. At its weakest, Anderson’s style can
feel affected; like a twee mask attempting to disguise any shortcomings found
in the material. At its best, it complements the material, and that is
certainly the case with his enchanting new film Moonrise Kingdom. Like many of his past projects, it tells a story
that contrasts the endless possibilities of childhood with the inevitable
disappointment of adulthood, only this time the finished product feels more
assured and less artificial than ever before.
The
childhood aspect of the equation is covered by the characters of Sam Shakusky
(Jared Gilman) and Suzy Bishop (Kara Hayward), two 12-year-old outcasts who
live on the fictional island of New Penzance, which might as well be called
Andersonland. These two kids have taken a liking to each other, and so one
summer they run away from their families into the wilderness together. This causes the New Penzance
community to start searching far and wide for these two runaways. This group
includes Suzy’s parents (Bill Murray and Frances McDormand), Sam’s scout master
Ward (Edward Norton), and the local police captain (Bruce Willis). Tilda
Swinton also shows up as an officer from Social Services.
While
allegedly a region of New England, Anderson’s setting of New Penzance is not to
be mistaken for anywhere you can go in the real world. There are no paved roads, the khaki
scouts—this film’s version of boy scouts—are all but drafted into the police
force, and people do such things as build large treehouses at the very top of
very skinny trees. While his previous films have certainly seemed fantastical,
Anderson may have done himself well by setting Moonrise Kingdom in a blatant fantasy world; particularly one that
works as such a perfect counterpart to his characters.
It’s
incredibly easy to see how Sam and Suzy have fallen for each other, even if
their courtship isn’t always portrayed in any specific detail onscreen. Neither have
been able to fit in to their respective situations, and their parental figures
clearly hold them in lesser regard than the rest. While Suzy’s biological
parents try to figure out how to deal with their clearly disturbed daughter,
Sam’s foster parents ultimately decide not to bring him back home. They are outcasts
in every way imaginable, so it makes perfect sense that they would gravitate
toward each other. When they are alone wandering the island’s numerous forests
and empty fields, the complications of the outside world quickly go away.
Without the adults around, they are able to completely embrace a childlike naïveté
they have otherwise been denied.
Anderson
loves to explore the middle ground between childhood and adulthood, and he does
this by both contrasting the two worlds and occasionally mixing them together. The Royal Tenenbaums was a fine example
of the latter, as numerous grown adults are forced back into an unmistakably
childlike situation. Moonrise Kingdom
mostly takes the former path, as the palpable unhappiness of the adults seems
like the natural and depressing endpoint for the relationship that Sam and Suzy are beginning.
It’s not inevitable, but in the worlds that Anderson creates it seems logical
that one will turn into another. Norton’s character is the closest thing we get
to a Tenenbaum-style mash-up, but he also seems to be using his khaki scout
experience as a way to escape something in his life that’s never quite clear.
If
Moonrise Kingdom stumbles at all, it’s
at a select few moments of the second half where events may get a bit too
outlandish for their own good. It’s never so much that it becomes annoying,
but certain developments—like one involving lightning—feels like it was thrown
in just to be a silly beat. However, Anderson’s quirks work better for me here than
they ever have before, and it helps that this film is so wonderfully acted and
written across the board. Everyone in the cast knows what kind of movie they’re in, and
they recite Anderson’s dialogue in the exact fashion it is meant to be recited.
The adults get most of the money lines, but at no point do they even think about
winking at the camera. Moonrise Kingdom
is improved greatly by a cast that wisely takes everything very, very
seriously.
Unwavering Wes Anderson detractors are unlikely
to be converted by Moonrise
Kingdom, which still has all the eccentricities that people on both sides
of the aisle have come to expect. The composition is meticulous, everything
seems to be lined up at perfect right angles, and he films everything as if
it’s a stage production more than a movie. I’ve never hated Anderson, but I’ll
also admit to being more critical of his work than some. Occasionally the way
he goes about his business can distance the audience more than it reels them
in. (I'm not as fond of Rushmore as some people, but I think The Royal Tenenbaums is
unimpeachably great.) That is not the case with Moonrise Kingdom, which takes just about all of what
Anderson does well and turns it into an engaging, hilarious, sad and sometimes
heartwarming story about how life doesn’t necessarily have to
disappoint you. But it’s certainly going to try.
Grade: A
(I apologize for the strange formatting of the last paragraph. Blogger was being strange and that was the only way to make it readable.)
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