Asteroid City Lacks Substance and Provides a Hollow Impact

I liked Rushmore and absolutely love The Royal Tenenbaums. As a result, a Wes Anderson film would have my attention, and in all likelihood, my money. In for a pound, I probably gave the Grand Budapest Hotel a thumbs up, but I have no real memory of the story or the characters. The same goes for The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou, and apparently, I’ve become less likely to hand over the green. Missing the last few installments, it’s hard to forget that the soundtrack to Zissou consists entirely of David Bowie music, covered in Portuguese. How do you dismiss such a wonderful oddity, and I decided it was time again. I reached back and found that Asteroid City has all the same components that originally drew me in. There is one glaring omission, though.

Substance.

The film opens with the imagery of the era. In black and white, the host (Bryan Cranston) strips the fluff and introduces us to our evening of informative 1950s television. Evoking Rod Serling, we know he’s serious, and a thought provoking exploration into the work of one Conrad Earp (Edward Norton) is on the agenda.

All done in the brevity of Anderson’s affinity for nonsensical sincerity, the status quo in tone has us ready to once again enjoy the filmmaker’s own personal genre of slow burn lunacy. So off to the south west, Asteroid City is the setting.

The lonely vastness is effectively conveyed with a stationary animation, and in the foreground, we get the familiar look of Anderson’s liking. Antiseptic and geometric, the ordered enclosure of scenes frames the characters as an invading virus that has no chance of escaping the caricatures he loves to create.

The same for us, the effect feeds into the time period, which alludes to both the innocence and dire complexity of the age. Celebrating the 5000 year old impact of an asteroid, the events of Roswell are unavoidable, and so is the frivolous UFO-mania that followed. Alongside, the nuclear test bombings in full view reminds us that a total lack of transparency allowed the US Military to be as reckless and independent as they deemed fit.

The exact date calculated, a group of young stargazers are the honored guests, and the military plays host. No doubt convenient, the military industrial complex requires technical soldiers in the fight against fake aliens, and the unyielding infiltration of communists into daily American life.

Woodrow Steenbeck is the first little geek. He’s invented some sort of ray gun and gives us the awkward, shyness we’ve come to expect. Dinah is the object of his affection, and in keeping, her aloofness verifies that the feeling is mutual.

Her mom, played by Scarlett Johansson, is even more distant. A Hollywood starlet harboring plenty of damage, she catches the eye of Woodrow’s dad (Jason Schwartzman). They do the typical Anderson dance of two planets separated by their common eccentricities, and the radiation seeping in from the test grounds, they may or may not be, death the destroyer of worlds.

Such is Anderson, he leaves destruction to the military, and the capable hands of Jeffrey Wright. Playing the General in charge, his presentation encompasses all that’s wrong with this film.

Yes, Wright confidently asserts the empty lunacy that his authority, and the complaint American public provides. But despite the moments of levity - and even laughter - that eke out, you’re still left wanting.

Always hoping this is the start of the movie, you know that’s not possible. Without the thread of a binding storyline, the deadpans are all hollow and amount to a collection of scenes that amuse at best.

The switch back and forth between Asteroid City, Cranston and Norton only loosens the poorly constructed tether and turns the discourse into absolute tedium.

Of course, there’s a great filmmaker in the middle of all this. So you can’t help wondering if this time you are not smart and insightful enough to understand the genius of Wes Anderson. No doubt, there’s a lot here. Celebrity, mass hysteria, blind patriotism and a country too eager to conform are all up for consideration.

Getting past me, the inadequacy of my own cognitive abilities forced me to an irrational conclusion. Maybe the joke is on the true believers and the actors who sign on at the mere asking of such a master.

The current roster including Tom Hanks, Hope Davis, Liev Schreiber, Jeff Goldblum, Tilda Swinton, Willem Dafoe, Steve Carell and Adrien Brody, did he deliberately hash out a stinker. Like the characters of all the films past, the cult-like participants can’t escape and are only left with one option. Suck it up and sing the praises of the preposterous film they got themselves into.

Extremely unlikely but pretty funny if it was true. Sadly, that’s a lot more than we can say about Asteroid City.