Wes Anderson: Goodbye to Nostalgia

Wes Anderson is often recognized for his unique visual style, particularly his use of color. However, it would be an oversimplification to say that his use of color is his greatest strength as a filmmaker. In my opinion, his talent for creating compelling characters and telling captivating stories deserves equal attention. While his films do feature a distinct color palette, they are also known for their flat symmetrical compositions and nostalgic portrayal of a bygone era. What truly sets Anderson apart from other directors is his ability to craft characters that are both absurd and relatable, using humor to explore deeper themes of loss, family, and the search for meaning. In this article, we will closely examine Anderson's unique style and the recurring themes in his work, as well as analyze how he creates his memorable characters and why audiences are drawn to his films.

“I’m not brave. I just wasn’t in the mood to be a disappointment to everybody. I’m a foreigner you know.”

—Nescaffier, The French Dispatch

Nescaffier (Middle)

Seeking While Missing

To understand Wes Anderson's films, we can start with the quote above from Nescaffier (played by Steve Park) in Anderson's most recent film, " The French Dispatch " (2021). Nescaffier wasn't a heroic figure, but he was always ready to step up when needed. As Roebuck Wright called him "lieutenant," implying that he was acting out of a sense of duty, he responded, "I'm a foreigner," indicating that he was concerned about being an outsider. Before he lost consciousness, he said, "Seeking something missing, missing something left behind," revealing a sense of nostalgia. As someone who has shared similar experiences to Nescaffier, I couldn't agree more with his words. As a cook, Nescaffier is used to learning about others' tastes and interests, but despite his incredible culinary skills, he found it hard to fit in with the community. People would ask him for recipes, but rarely asked about him. We never found out where Nescaffier was from because nobody cared. It wasn't until Nescaffier did something great that people noticed he was more than just a cook.

I couldn't help but wonder why. It was not only out of curiosity, but also because of a sense of dissatisfaction that lingered within me. This feeling reminds me of Gustave (Ralph Fiennes), the hotel manager in the movie "The Grand Budapest Hotel" (2014). He protected his lobby boy, Zero (Tony Revolori), who was also his friend, from being inspected by border soldiers. Gustave shouted out, "You can't arrest him just because he's a bloody immigrant. He hasn't done anything wrong!" At that moment, I believe Gustave was not only trying to avoid disappointing Zero, but also to avoid disappointing himself. While his deeper motivation remained unclear, we know that Gustave is a man of high reputation, having hired Zero right after Zero confessed that he came for the reputation of The Grand Budapest. Throughout the film, Gustave persisted in seeking the 'remains' of civilization in all situations. He simply couldn't show up somewhere without a decent perfume to speak for his appearance, as to leave a lasting impression beyond the physical, one should infuse their speech with poetry. Gustave was a lost but gentle spirit who wanted Zero to inherit his will, not just his property. He wanted Zero to become him, though he never mentioned a single word about it.

Zero (left) and Gustavo (right)

Outsider vs Symmetry

Some people describe Wes Anderson's films as "quirky," and even Anderson himself has said that his films are intentionally "whimsical." The thing is, without these qualities, characters like Nescaffier, Zero, and Gustave wouldn't make any sense. They have what are often called "outsider" qualities in real-life situations. Furthermore, they possess these qualities not because they have done anything wrong, but rather because they have suffered from circumstances beyond their control, such as war, disease, or abandonment. They are deviated, or in other words, screwed by circumstances they did not cause, which is why they appear quirky. Therefore, Anderson needs to find a way to "screw" them back.

In Anderson's films, he often employs flat, symmetrical composition (known as Planimetric Staging) to present the subjects perpendicularly to the audience with minimal distortion. This aesthetic is appealing to human nature on a basic level, as everything is already arranged for the viewer's perception. However, any subjects that deviate from this arrangement, including the characters and objects associated with them, will stand out and appear "not quite right". This creates a great irony, as these characters may have done nothing wrong, but instead seem to be the right person bumped into the wrong place. When combined with the unexpected encounters that frequently occur in Anderson's plots, this mixture of "nothing wrong" and "not quite right" can lead to a bittersweet feeling that is also humorous.

However, Anderson's characters would be less convincing if planimetric staging was all he relied on. Anderson mastered the symmetry trick like no one else, and he also incorporates it into editing. Typically, Anderson sequences his scenes so that the next plays out in the same timeframe as the previous, making the audience feel that the next sequence is directly responding to the previous one. If you pay attention to these sequences, you will see how Anderson goes to great lengths to make his characters appealing, extending symmetry to dialogues, actions, soundtracks, and even the story structure.

Although the majority of this image is symmetrical, the facial expressions of the characters seem to convey a greater sense of surprise than the situation would warrant. It is evident that they are out of place, yet in a funny way.

Anderson always seeks one specific goal in his films: almost every character must transform some of their aspects to the opposite while the rest remain. This may sound familiar: "seeking something missing, missing something left behind." Nescaffier remains a foreigner, and his identity remains as such. He seeks the idea or function of 'home' in a strange land while knowing that his past self will never return. It doesn't matter whether he goes home or not; his foreigner experience has already made him different. Similarly, Zero comes a long way to become a lobby boy and seek a new home. Along the way, he has to sacrifice something, get away from something, or get rid of something to fully embrace his new identity. These things continue to nourish him as he grows and becomes someone new. For instance, Gustavo seeks Zero to become someone like him, keeping things (the hotel) in a way that he used to find missing. Then Zero will sort of repeat Gustave when he becomes someone like him.

What other items are red besides the hotel's decor and Madame D (Tilda Swinton)'s outfit? It is interesting to note that when only Madame D and the hotel have the color red, the hotel takes on a subtly but significantly different appearance when Madame D is not present. This phenomenon can be observed in real-life situations as well. Sometimes, the change is imperceptible, much like how the hotel's color did not actually change in the absence of Madame D, yet it was still different.

Yellow and red are colors that are not commonly found in nature, but Wes Anderson strategically uses them to develop a sense of nostalgia in his films. This creates an engaging vibe for the audience, although they may find it difficult to fully immerse themselves in the world. Upon closer inspection, it is evident that Anderson's use of color is often harmonious and striking. While off-screen elements can be redundant, Anderson's characters enjoy a significant degree of freedom, allowing them to come across as vivid and dynamic, regardless of the problems they face. For instance, in Bottle Rocket (1996), Dignan (Owen Wilson) dresses in bright orange to signify his new identity as a member of the legendary Mr. Henry's crew, while in The Grand Budapest Hotel, Gustavo always appears in bright purple before he was listed as wanted. Dignan's bright orange color can be interpreted as his farewell to his past, while Gustavo's bright purple color is perhaps his silent manifesto to his old-school fashion. Anderson takes time to impress us with these colors in the plot, so when the characters change their colors due to new situations, we can better understand their nostalgia.

The interim manager of the hotel doesn't quite fit the picture, whether or not he deserves the role.

Symphonic Dialogue vs Fading Pride

While symmetry in composition can be visually appealing, audiences may tire of it after seeing it too often. That's why it's all the more impressive to see how Anderson avoids falling into this trap. In Anderson's films, it is common to see characters pitching (or selling) their ideas or plans. Anderson crafts his characters' dialogue with care, weaving the pace among their words so that their speeches literally bounce off each other and resonate, forming a symphony. For instance:

Julian Cadazio: “Simone, Naked. Cell Block J. Hobby Room.” I wanna buy it.

Moses Rosenthaler: Why?

Julian: Because I like it.

Moses: It’s not for sale.

Julian: Yes, it is.

Moses: No, it isn’t.

Julian: Yes, it is.

Moses: No, it isn’t.

Julian: Yes, it is.

Moses: No, it isn’t.

Julian: It is. Yes, it is. All artists sell all their work. It’s what makes you an artist. Selling it. If you don’t wish to sell it, don’t paint it. Question is, What’s your price?

Moses: 50 cigarettes. Actually, make it 75.

In this conversation, Julian (Adrien Brody) is the buyer and Moses (Benicio Del Toro) is the creator and owner of the item in question. At first, Moses was not interested in selling, so the conversation remained casual until it evolved into a more formal negotiation. Julian had to use his communication skills to persuade Moses to sell, as they were in a challenging situation (they were in prison). Knowing that the painting meant nothing to Moses, Julian wisely started the conversation by mentioning it. Julian's argument may be less convincing if he takes this approach:

“I wanna buy Simone, Naked, Cell Block J. Hobby Room.”

or

“Do you Simone, Naked. Cell Block J. Hobby Room.?”

Additionally, if Moses were to ask "Why do you want to buy it?", he may not come across as serious. Furthermore, when Julian explained that he liked the work, Moses refused his offer. The point is, Julian means nothing to him nor to the value of his work. In response, Julian quickly changed the subject to ‘the work is for sale’. Julian quickly redirected the conversation to the fact that the work is for sale. For Julian, the sale of art is significant to the artist's meaning and the price of their work. Before Moses finally agreed that the painting was worth at least 75 cigarettes, Julian was trying to persuade Moses to buy into his ideas. He needed to do so tactfully and subtly.

Moses seems to be less guarded on the right side, implying that he may have been granted some level of freedom on that side, as a visual metaphor for Simone (Léa Seydoux) being his muse.

How does this type of dialogue add to the feeling of nostalgia, and how does nostalgia in turn enhance the drama of the film? Let's examine another conversation where Julian promotes his work to his uncle, who has a role in managing their family business:

Julian: We're done with flowers and fruit bowls. We're finished with beaches and seascapes. We're getting out of armor, rugs, and tapestries, too. I found something new.

[reveals Moses Rosenthaler's painting "Simone, Naked. Cell Block J. Hobby Room."]

Uncle Nick: Modern art?

Julian: Modern art. Our specialty, starting now.

Uncle Joe: I don't get it.

Julian: Of course you don't.

Uncle Joe: Am I too old?

Julian: Of course you are.

Uncle Nick: Why is this good?

Julian: It isn't good. Wrong idea.

Uncle Joe: That's no answer.

Julian: My point. You see the girl in it?

Uncle Nick, Uncle Joe: No.

Julian: Trust me, she's there.

In the painting, the girl is not present, but the viewer still acknowledges her absence while considering the previous art form to be outdated. By speaking in a rhythmic tone, the speaker naturally creates a flow of recognition without necessarily seeking agreement. Each line is delivered in a neat, straightforward manner. If the length of each line were shorter or longer, the flow would be disrupted. Anderson's characters are striving to achieve self-recognition, which requires them to step outside their comfort zone and accept unfamiliar circumstances. At a closer level, these characters must speak decisively and concisely, as their pride is rapidly fading. Any stuttering or superfluous speech would tarnish their previously upheld beliefs, disregarding their status quo has foreshadowed their beliefs would be latter revealed as illusion or fantasy.

To be frank, I think his world had vanished long before he ever entered it. But I will say, he certainly sustained the illusion with a marvelous grace.

—Mr. Moustafa, The Grand Budapest Hotel

Gustavo is surrounded by elderly blond women, all dressed in black, but none of them can remind him of Madame D.

Last but not Least

Anderson's films always leave a profound impact on their audience, evoking a sense of nostalgia that is both fleeting and enduring. Each time I watch one of his films, I find myself captivated by the wonderful, glowing souls trapped in their world. Though the characters seem to be satisfied with their endings, I'm left with an ambiguous feeling that lingers, reminding me of how difficult it is to say goodbye. Through Anderson's films, I've come to appreciate the beauty of the past while still remaining open to what is still to come. Thanks to these characters, I no longer fear acknowledging my own flaws and insecurities, as I am reminded that I am not alone in my struggles.

Goodbye to nostalgia, perhaps that’s the Anderson’s charm.