If Ferlinghetti reviewed The French Dispatch
The delicious chore
that is
Wes Anderson’s new film
The French Dispatch, so much like its
rich
and
friendless predecessors with their gameboard chase scenes
and
ponderous panning, equally
past bit parts & lineless leading roles
offering Oscar-worthy performances
using
only
their eyebrows and posture.
With a gallery of
rogues
so familiar but for the straightjackets and
misplaced American
accents not even compensating let alone over-compensating dragging on a cigarette.
Homage upon endless homage
concealing
Inside Artworld jokes that no one gets
within their
Vanquished Folds, drunk on mouthwash
smuggled in by naked jailers standing statue-still through monolog upon endless monolog
with the visual phonetics
of a dreamscape
that flips forth-and-back
from color
to
white-and-black…
Mr. (W)Right and co-consipirators with names like
Roman, Hugo and Jason Schwartzmann
banging pans and pots in the echochamber of Andersonian
approach avoidance,
vignettes of formalism shot long and slow and so close
that no one can tell if it is
brilliant
or
not brilliant.
Except the part where Tilda Swinton says the mad young artist 'tried to fuck her’ (after he’d decapitated two bartenders with a meat saw) is funny
because
she is wearing some false teeth that make her talk funny and it sounds more like ‘vhuck’... "

