Asteroid City

Or: Lost Horizon

As much as they are parodied and belittled the films of Wes Andrson do tend to stick their landing. You can raise an eyebrow at some of his social choices, and raise the other brow to join it, and quirk your mouth at the recurring theme of Bad Dad Seeks Redemption, yet the visual perdition, the dry wit, the curious turns of plot all tickle and sate the appetite for storytelling, be that story ever so small. As Augie Steenbeck (Jason Schwartzman) photojournalist and nominal hero of Asteroid City, Anderson’s latest offering, affirms, “My pictures always turn out.” So it’s sad then, after the neat focus of Moonrise Kingdom and Fantastic Mr. Fox, to see a film that luxuriates on its laurels. A show within a show, Asteroid City covers both play in question: Steenbeck drives his four children to a remote desert town so his eldest Woodrow (Jake Ryan) to take part in a youth astronomy convention, where extraterrestrial hijinks await in the boundless stars. It is in turn framed and bracketed by the creation of “Asteroid City” a 1950’s contemporary drama put up by a major metropolitan theater, where every actor we see on the screen doubles as their thespian self in search of the truth or at least a shot at a part.

Unlike the French Dispatch, whose narrative curlicues heightened and underscored each other, Asteroid Cities two plot lines run head to head and go nowhere. We don’t see enough of the meta-story to care about the success of the play, but the meta story drains the stakes, emotional or geopolitical, from the play itself. It’s not helped that the scripts aped style of Author Miller/ William Inge-esque sleekness is too close to Anderson-ese without quite matching the pattern. There’s also just too much going on. The difficulty in having a star studded cast is giving them enough firmament to shine in, and so none of the characters grow or connect so much as blunder together and decide that the only way to go is forward.

It’s not for lack of trying. The “Asteroid City” segment orbits around the relationship of Augie and Hollywood star Midge Campbell (Scarlet Johansson). To broken people fetched up with precocious kids and adjoining cabins. Both play the normal bill for lonely people who are both brilliant and/or dead inside, but Schwartzmans brief appearance as Jones Hall, Augie’s actor, is so much more engaging. Dead inside isn’t enough anymore, you have to be looking, however hopelessly for resurrection.

Still in the cast this size, more than a few understand the assignment. The best performance, though sadly unexplored by the script is Maya Hawke as June Douglas, a christian school teacher shepherding and often thwarted by her youthful charges. As the events of the play unfold and her very faith is shaken both by cosmic events and a dapper singing cowboy (Rupert Friend), Hawke gives a grounded performance that spins gold out of the straw the script hands to her. She slots perfectly into the movies style and I have an ardent hope that Anderson and his posse will offer her more opportunities to shine than the shooting star light offered here.

Other performances of note include Ethan Josh Lee as Ricky Cho, one of the celebrated youths, whose slow burn under the racial pressures of asteroid city, gives him plenty to spark against and Liev Schreiber as J.J. Kellogg a parent of aforementioned youths, glancing the right amount of frustration coldness and silliness. Jeffrey Wright as Grif Gibson, a fast talking General and Tony Revolori as his aide-de-camp provide the surest laughs and best torque of tension.

But for all my griping, Gentle Reader, Astroid City is not entirely a failure. The jokes are there, the larger questions, though they have to be grasped at as though lodged in the abyss of a kitchen drawer, have weight enough, and those actors who seize their moment absently shine. It’s just a shame to see something that is so nearly good settle in its confusion for decentness, and success of the director and company swell a picture beyond the point where it can function efficiently. I scratched my head and tutted after leaving, but I cannot say that I didn’t have a good time. There’s a great deal of argon ace as Anderson, through Angie, announces “All my pictures come out.” but he can’t help it if it remains to be true.