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‘Splitsville' Review: A Tender, Hilarious And Balanced Portrayal Of Love, Friendship And Open Relationships [Cannes 2025]
Going through a divorce is never pleasant, apart from in the latest movie by Michael Angelo Covino. After taking The Climb to La Croisette in 2019, Covino is returning to Cannes. We're still unsure why Splitsville is a 'Out of Competition' feature, as it's a work that deserves all the accolades it can get. The film is the perfect example of a work that becomes better with each scene. What starts as an explosive unravelling of marriage becomes a tender, hilarious and balanced work about love, friendship and… open relationships.
Yes, 'open relationships'. You read that correctly. This edition of Cannes certainly is quite a daring one. After seeing Pillion, which features a BDSM agreement between Alexander Skarsgård and Harry Melling, Splitsville turns the sexiness and steaminess up a notch. There might be less nudity and sex, but there are much more parties involved.
The lead cast is quite significant because of the multiple open relationships. You have the four main leads, whose dynamics will change, but also the fuckbuddies on the side, who might become more than that. In an ensemble work like this, some characters are often overlooked and/or underdeveloped because each character needs at least some screen time. However, that's not the case here. No, Covino and co-writer and co-lead Kyle Marvin take their time to cut out well-rounded characters with the necessary individuality and personality. This allows you to fully understand their true (sexual) desires and their journey.
And what a journey it is, especially for Carey (Marvin), the traditional husband who wants the whole shebang (wife, marriage and kids) with Ashley (Adria Arjona). However, after Ashley abruptly dumps him on the spot – which is in the middle of the highway – Carey angrily, sadly, and most of all confused, runs to the place of his best friends Julie (Dakota Johnson) and Paul (Covino). That run from the highway to the house is already a major indicator that this work will be full of hilarious encounters and wildly entertaining moments. While there are undoubtedly be some scenes in which the cast and crew take it too far, this movie has an excellent balance between hilarity and big emotions.
Paul arrives at his friends' place in the hope of finding advice, comfort, and a temporary bed, but what he gets there is much more life-changing than he could have ever imagined. After finding out that their stable marriage is based on an open relationship, a whole new world opens for Paul. A world in which there's not such a thing as embarrassment or judgment. Covino allows his characters to make mistakes, pursue unconventional relationships, and find out who they really are, even later in life.
That lack of judgment and the bigger focus on what it's like to be human makes this feature so intriguing, touching and enthralling. It also certainly sets the film aside from other similar works, and even more, because this movie truly feels like a film. It's entirely shot on gorgeous and textured-looking 35mm, while it's also not too stylized, visual, and directional. Instead of relying on over-the-top cinematography, the filmmaker uses more natural-looking visuals, real-life-sounding conversation and the dynamic energy generated by the cast.
This more subdued but dynamic approach ensures that the audience can truly feel what's happening on the screen while allowing the cast to immerse themselves in the role. Johnson (The High Note, Am I Ok?) certainly delivers the most multilayered performance in this work. This is because her character has to endure her unconventional marriage and, deep down, some sadness while trying to be there for her son and friend in need. It might take a while to show her fantastic acting skills truly, but once she does that, she delivers scene-stealing and remarkable acting.
Equally scene-stealing but less present is Arjona as Ashley. Right off the bat of Hitman, Arjona now shows an even more hilarious performance. Her comedic timing is extremely impressive, while the sexual awakening of her character guarantees some of the most intense scenes. After Ashley discovers what an open relationship can mean to her, her plan to make her ex jealous completely backfires. Instead of Carey violently going after them, he becomes friends with them, helping them with finding work and organizing game nights.
Speaking of Carey, Marvin is excellent as this loveable, laid-back, and feisty lover. What starts as a more timid performance becomes more raunchy and entertaining. That first big fight scene between Carey and Paul certainly got a massive cheer from the Cannes audience, and it's easy to see why. Marvin's electric performance becomes even more enthralling because of Covino's more physical and aggressive acting. Both men have worked together in the past (on The Climb), resulting in very naturally looking, impeccable chemistry and believable performances.
Splitsville certainly is one of the best discoveries of the Cannes Film Festival this year. It's a great reminder that there are still American comedies out there that, while it doesn't take itself truly seriously, work after all. Not only because of the incredible dynamic between the cast and the absurd but entertaining script but also because of the humanness and down-to-earth aspect. The screwball comedy with a lot of heart will have you laughing out loud through its 90-minute runtime.
Splitsville was screened during the Cannes Film Festival and is out in US theatres on the 22nd of August courtesy of NEON
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New York Times
2 hours ago
- New York Times
French Open recap: Lorenzo Musetti avoids default after kicking ball into linesperson
Follow The Athletic's French Open coverage Welcome to the French Open briefing, where The Athletic will explain the stories behind the stories on each day of the tournament. On day 10, tennis' bizarre relationship with unsportsmanlike conduct took another twist, the wind whipped up the clay on Court Philippe-Chatrier, and Roland Garros' decision to keep line judges came under scrutiny. Lorenzo Musetti is headed to the semifinals of the French Open, but he could easily be heading home. Musetti, the occasionally feisty Italian, cruised through the first set of his quarterfinal against Frances Tiafoe on Tuesday afternoon. In the second, things started to go south. His slice backhand wasn't biting. His forehand was flying. Tiafoe had gotten used to his spins and was outplaying him. Advertisement As the second set wound down, Musetti vented by kicking a ball toward the back wall of Court Philippe-Chatrier. It accidentally whacked a line judge near her shoulder. The ball wasn't moving particularly fast, but sending a ball in flight in anger and hitting anyone with it, much less a line judge, comes with a ball abuse penalty that can include being ejected from the tournament. Tennis is weird about defaults — the ultimate penalty for bad behavior, which involves automatically losing the match. Whether or not a player smacks a ball in frustration, or throws or kicks it like Musetti, the penalty more often than not is outcome-based. If the person struck is in distress, the player gets defaulted, they are allowed to continue. But per the rulebook, that should be irrelevant. 'Players shall not violently, dangerously or with anger hit, kick or throw a tennis ball while on the grounds of the tournament site except in the reasonable pursuit of a point during a match (including warm-up). 'For purposes of this rule, abuse of balls is defined as intentionally or recklessly hitting a ball out of the enclosure of the court, hitting a ball dangerously or recklessly within the court or hitting a ball with disregard of the consequences.' The problem with the logic currently applied is that it gives players credit for being in control of something which they are not in control of. Smashing or kicking a ball into a crowd of people or an enclosed space is risky. Whether or not it hits someone with a glancing blow or square on is pure luck. On this occasion, chair umpire Timo Janzen let Musetti off with a warning. Tiafoe complained, but to no avail. Novak Djokovic was defaulted from the 2020 U.S. Open when he whacked a ball that inadvertently hit a line judge in the throat. Two years ago at Roland Garros, doubles player Miyu Kato and her partner were defaulted after Kato accidentally hit a ball kid in the neck when returning a ball to her — not even swatting it in frustration. Advertisement Kato originally received a warning, but her opponents complained and the supervisor ultimately disqualified Kato and her partner, Aldila Sutjiadi of Indonesia. The year before, Romania's Irina-Camelia Begu accidentally bounced her racket into the crowd. It hit a small child, who started crying but his parents said he was fine. She received a warning. If all this sounds a bit inconsistent, it is. Tiafoe was still annoyed with Janzen's handling of the situation an hour after the end of the match. He called the decision 'comical.' 'He did that and nothing happened,' Tiafoe said. 'Obviously it's inconsistent.' Musetti said later he was scared that he was going to get booted from the tournament. 'I did not want to harm anybody,' he said. 'There was no intention about it.' Matt Futterman Sports stadiums can be weird places when it comes to wind. The air can be nearly still four stories up, but swirling about at court level. That was Court Philippe-Chatrier on Tuesday, the second quarterfinal day for the men and the women. There were several moments during Iga Świątek's match against Elina Svitolina when the players had to stop and turn their heads away from the wind to avoid getting a mouthful of red dust. Players talk about feeling like small bugs in the cavernous stadium, which seats just 15,000. The stands slope gently outward, leaving a low broad opening at the top, while the retractable roof slides over from just one side, leaving a big opening at the top for gusts to get in. This was not as bad as 2019, when gusts measured at nearly 50 mph (and Rafael Nadal) sent Roger Federer packing in their semifinal. But it was not great. In tennis, wind direction can be just as important as its speed. Wind will make serving difficult regardless, but it has its clearest impact when it is blowing parallel to the sidelines, rather than perpendicular. At one end, players have to be wary of overhitting with the breeze at their back. On the other, they have to be mindful of how much it will hold up their shots. The player receiving a ball with wind behind it needs to react quicker; if it's slowing a ball down, their footwork needs to take them to it and adjust to any sudden changes of direction. Advertisement If air is buffeting around a stadium every which way, things get a little more chaotic. Świątek said the worst wind she has experienced was at Wimbledon, where she has problems on the grass even when it's still, but this was rough. 'In the second set, it got pretty crazy,' Świątek said. 'I never had that here, but in the first set it wasn't that bad. I think it kind of slowed down also at the end of the match.' Of course she thought that: she served three aces in the final game of her 6-1, 7-5 win. Matt Futterman From the start of play, it's felt inevitable that the French Open's decision to opt for line judges over electronic line calling (ELC) would come under scrutiny. Mixed events on clay, and every other surface, use ELC, but the tournament opted against it. The France Tennis Federation (FFT) president, Gilles Moretton, said in April that this was because it trusts their industry-leading officials to do a good job, claiming last week that ELC had been shown not to be totally effective at the earlier clay events this year. The downside of no ELC was duly exposed Tuesday when at a critical moment in the quarterfinal between Aryna Sabalenka and Zheng Qinwen, a bad error from the officials could have made a major difference. With Zheng serving at 5-6, 30-30, Sabalenka hit a backhand that looked to have drifted long — so much so that Zheng stopped the point, despite there being no out call. The umpire got off her chair to inspect the mark, and backed up the line judge's call, but television replays using Hawk-Eye technology showed that the ball had actually been 7mm out. ELC has a margin of error, but it is smaller than 7mm. Given the speed at which Sabalenka's ball was traveling, it should have been relatively easy for the line judge to track, but bad errors like this are always possible with humans calling the lines. Zheng was able to hold her serve, so the incorrect call didn't have a material impact on the match, but it's an embarrassing look for the sport that such a critical call at a Grand Slam could have been botched like that. Advertisement There were a couple of further wrong calls that were at least correctly overruled by the umpire. The FFT did not respond to a request for comment on the officiating errors from the match. Later on Chatrier, Tiafoe was involved in a number of heated discussions with the umpire Janzen during his defeat to Musetti. On one occasion in the fifth set, Janzen got off his chair and incorrectly overruled an out call. The players are generally in favour of ELC, partly because while they know it's not completely infallible, there's certainty and no argument. Speaking of arguments, it's getting harder and harder to make one for relying on humans to make these decisions. Charlie Eccleshare Pretty much everyone who even vaguely follows tennis knows about or remembers the Rafael Nadal vs. Roger Federer Wimbledon final in 2008. Very few remember either of their paths to that final, however. Both were incredibly straightforward, with just one set dropped between them along the way. As the rounds went on, it felt as though each was trying to outdo the other and send out a little statement. Something similar is happening here, where the top two seeds Jannik Sinner and Carlos Alcaraz are taking it in turns to showcase their title credentials in their bids to set up a meeting in Sunday's final. After Sinner eviscerated Jiří Lehečka Saturday for the loss of just three games, Alcaraz beat a much tougher opponent in Ben Shelton the following day, even if it took him four sets. Sinner then thrashed a similarly ranked opponent to Shelton in Andrey Rublev on Sunday night, losing eight games. Not to be outdone, Alcaraz only gave up five in a 6-0, 6-1, 6-4 battering of American world No. 12 Tommy Paul on Tuesday night. Sinner took two hours to beat Rublev; Alcaraz only took 94 minutes to get past Paul, who was physically hampered but would not have quelled the version of Alcaraz he played even at full fitness. Advertisement The way it's been going, perhaps Sinner was watching Alcaraz's masterclass against Paul and thinking about how he could improve on it in his own quarterfinal Wednesday. So good luck, Alexander Bublik. Charlie Eccleshare Tell us what you noticed on the tenth day… (Top photo of Lorenzo Musetti: Alain Jocard / AFP via Getty Images; design: Eamonn Dalton / The Athletic)


New York Times
2 hours ago
- New York Times
More about Musetti's ball-kick that hit lineperson
Follow live reaction from Roland Garros after Carlos Alcaraz convincingly beat Tommy Paul in straight sets (6-0, 6-1, 6-4) Getty Images Both American men that reached the French Open quarterfinals have been eliminated on day 10. Carlos Alcaraz (2) needed just 94 minutes to see off U.S. No.2 Tommy Paul (12) in straight sets after compatriot Frances Tiafoe (15) was beaten in four sets by Lorenzo Musetti (8). Earlier in the day, Aryna Sabalenka (1) beat Olympic champion Zheng Qinwen (8) to set up a mouthwatering semifinal against defending champion Iga Świątek (5), who beat Elina Svitolina (13) in straight sets. TV: TNT, truTV, Tennis Channel (U.S.); TNT, Discovery+ (UK) TNT, truTV, Tennis Channel (U.S.); TNT, Discovery+ (UK) Streaming: Max for main coverage, Fubo (try for free) for secondary Max for main coverage, Fubo (try for free) for secondary Join the discussion: live@ GO FURTHER Tennis gets the Iga Swiatek vs. Aryna Sabalenka showdown the WTA Tour craved Connections: Sports Edition Spot the pattern. Connect the terms Find the hidden link between sports terms Tennis is weird about defaults — the ultimate penalty for bad behavior, which involves automatically losing the match. Whether or not a player smacks a ball in frustration, or throws or kicks it like Musetti, the penalty more often than not is outcome-based. If the person struck is in distress, the player gets defaulted, they are allowed to continue. But per the rulebook, that should be irrelevant. 'Players shall not violently, dangerously or with anger hit, kick or throw a tennis ball while on the grounds of the tournament site except in the reasonable pursuit of a point during a match (including warm-up). 'For purposes of this rule, abuse of balls is defined as intentionally or recklessly hitting a ball out of the enclosure of the court, hitting a ball dangerously or recklessly within the court or hitting a ball with disregard of the consequences.' The most famous default for ball abuse in recent times came in the 2020 U.S. Open, when Novak Djokovic was defaulted from his match against Pablo Carreño Busta after accidentally striking a linesperson with the ball. The problem with the logic currently applied is that it gives players credit for being in control of something which they are not in control of. Smashing or kicking a ball into a crowd of people or an enclosed space is risky. Whether or not it hits someone with a glancing blow or square on is pure luck. Musetti is lucky to still be on court. Musetti 6-2, 4-6, 2-1* Tiafoe Things got a bit testy in that service game. It got to 30-30, with Frances Tiafoe eager to get a break point chance. Lorenzo Musetti said, 'Not this game.' The Italian blasted a 191 km/h ace, his fifth of the match. Then, he crunches a cross-court forehand winner, before letting out a loud 'Come on.' Still on serve in the third set. How does the American respond? Musetti 6-2, 4-6, *1-1 Tiafoe I blinked and Frances Tiafoe's service game was over. Getting a quick hold is critical for the American to keep pace with Lorenzo Musetti. We're tied in the third set. The Italian serves now... Musetti 6-2, 4-6, 1-0* Tiafoe Oh my goodness! That was such a cheeky backhand slice from Lorenzo Musetti. The ball just catches the far left line in to give the Italian the game. A big start for Musetti to secure the opening service hold of the third set. Your turn, Frances Tiafoe... Getty Images Musetti 6-2, 4-6, *0-0 Tiafoe No worries here. Tiafoe swiftly out to 40-15 and this tempo is proving a little too hot for Musetti to handle right now. A Tiafoe forehand flier seals the second set and we are back on level terms. Boy could this match get really fun from here… Over to you, Lukas Weese — I will leave you in his extremely capable hands from here! To clarify, Lorenzo Musetti's warning for unsporting behaviour came as he kicked a loose ball in frustration — which did indeed fly into the line judge's chest. Frances Tiafoe was very quickly asking the umpire for a default too. Musetti 6-2, 4-5* Tiafoe Lorenzo Musetti has looked so calm for the majority of this match — and indeed this French Open. For a moment though, it looks like he's playing rattled. That includes Tiafoe coming into the net and winning a soft point to put on a little more pressure. But Musetti comes through that to hold. Next up, Tiafoe serving for the second set… Getty Images Musetti obviously felt that too. He is served with a warning for unsporting behaviour as he whacks a ball and it flies into the chest of a line judge. The Italian looks a bit sheepish after that too. Rightly so. Getty Images Musetti 6-2, *3-5 Tiafoe Tiafoe at 40-30 opts to drop and Musetti not only makes it — he manages to run his pick-up along the top of the net, before it drops on Tiafoe's side. We've had the odd roar into the sky from the American in this game. But then he takes out the frustration on a forehand winner crosscourt, which is an absolute peach. Hold sorted — one game from the second set now for Tiafoe… Musetti 6-2, 3-4* Tiafoe There has been a huge improvement in Frances Tiafoe's serves in this second set, compared to the first. His first-serve percentage is up from 52 to 79, his points won on those serves from 54 to 58, and his top speed hitting 252km/h compared to 196. It's giving Tiafoe a platform — but he has to keep his foot on the pedal. Musetti has a look at 30-30 in this one… Getty Images Musetti 6-2, 3-4* Tiafoe Another pair of holds as we tick through the middle part of this second set. Musetti's hold to love comes with an outrageous drop shot that almost threatens to bounce back over the net given how much spin there is on it. Admittedly, hitting the line and the gusty wind also play a part in that. It feels like we're in the calm before the real storm arrives in the coming games. Over to you, Frances… Musetti 6-2, 2-3* Tiafoe It felt like Musetti wanted to settle down a little bit — equally, Tiafoe knew consolidating his previous break was in the bag. So it's a swift hold to 15 and we're back on the Tiafoe serve after the changeover. Getty Images Musetti 6-2, *1-3 Tiafoe Back onto the Tiafoe serve we go, where Musetti is 15-30 and mucks up going between his legs as he chases back on the cover. The Italian continues to give Tiafoe real problems but this time, Tiafoe judges a drop shot much better. It still takes another shot, but that other shot flies into the open court. One break point saved by Tiafoe but another two come along as the Italian senses a way back in. And when I say sense, maybe I just mean the vibes from some of the incredibly nonchalant shots that Tiafoe is playing. By some distance the longest game of the match and after three visits to deuce, the American finds the first serves he needs to hold on and consolidate his previous break. Getty Images Musetti 6-2, 1-2* Tiafoe Now then, Tiafoe has a look at 0-30 after a strong forehand winner. But somehow he fails with a smash and then volley at the net on the same point, to let Musetti off the hook. It should be 0-40. Instead it's 15-30. Maybe Musetti then feels sorry for the American? Because he throws in his first double fault of the match, then sends his next first serve into the net… Some of the salvage operations being run here by Musetti are so impressive thereafter, and Tiafoe is also giving him the next shot so many times. But after a couple of smashes, Tiafoe takes the second of two break points to finally dent the Musetti serve in this match. Getty Images Musetti 6-2, *1-1 Tiafoe Musetti continues to fire off the backhand winners, now up to four for the match. But when Tiafoe is nailing his first serve, these games become so much easier for him. He tidies up here and we're now fully up and running in this second set. Getty Images Musetti 6-2, 1-0* Tiafoe It is such a bonus when you're on top in a set, to then win it earlier than you might so you can also serve first in the second. Musetti is serving well, and he drills through that opening service game of the second set to 15 — and to make sure Tiafoe doesn't get a sense of a fresh start. Getty Images I watched Lorenzo Musetti in last year's semifinal against Novak Djokovic at Wimbledon. He lost in straight sets that day, but earned plenty of plaudits for his elegant playing style. One of those shots today — a jauntily flicked one-handed backhand that turned into a flashing cross-court winner — is just one of the shots in his arsenal. Brilliant stuff. Musetti 6-2, *0-0 Tiafoe We are being treated to some wonderful shots off the racket of Lorenzo Musetti. A beautiful flicked backhand flies crosscourt and clips the line, as he travels to 0-30. A poor drop shot and fluffed forehand on his heels puts Tiafoe in real trouble, facing two break points and handing Musetti the first service game in the second. And so it plays out. Tiafoe tiptoes into the net off a wobbly approach and volleys wide of the target. Musetti has the first set inside 35 minutes and looks more than comfortable right now. Getty Images Musetti 5-2* Tiafoe Just a few signs that Musetti can be a bit flimsy here against a full-force Tiafoe. A lazy backhand into the net gets Tiafoe to 30-30 and the backhand power then brings the American his first break point of the match — saved by a remarkable backhand slice from Musetti that almost tickles the net before dying at Tiafoe's feet. From there, Musetti isn't hanging around and he holds. The Italian is now a game away from taking the first set.
Yahoo
3 hours ago
- Yahoo
All 12 Wes Anderson Movies, Ranked, from ‘Bottle Rocket' to ‘The Phoenician Scheme'
Let's get this out of the way right from the top: Wes Anderson has never made a bad movie, and — in all likelihood — he probably never will. He's too particular, too immaculate, too in command of his craft. Of course, the fact that he has always been so sure of himself only makes it more tempting to chart the progress of his career and to measure his films against each other. Or maybe it's just fun because there are still only 12 of them, and everyone seems to have their own favorite. Who could say? Anderson is the rarest of rarities, an arthouse filmmaker who not only finds ways to consistently make ambitious original projects, but also maintains genuine influence on what remains of mainstream pop culture. (None of the other esteemed directors who competed for the Palme d'Or at this year's Cannes Film Festival were the subjects of viral TikTok trends.) But the instantly-recognizable aesthetic that propelled Anderson to filmmaking superstardom often prompts his critics to look at his work through an oversimplified lens. More from IndieWire Wes Anderson Put a Great Deal of Time and Thought Into His Upcoming Criterion Career Box Set Luca Guadagnino Attached to Direct AI Business Comedy 'Artificial' for Amazon MGM Many of Anderson's films contain similar stylistic flourishes — like twee interior design with perfect color palettes, inserts of hand-written notes, and the presence of Jason Schwartzman, to name a few. But the visual similarities mask the fact that he has covered an insanely wide range of narrative ground in his 25 years of filmmaking. From dry comedies and whimsical animated features to painfully mature dramas about the nuances of grief, Anderson's filmography is anything but monolithic. We all know what a Wes Anderson movie looks like, but the differences between his films and the substance of his artistry are complex subjects that merit rigorous debate. With 'The Phoenician Scheme' now in select theaters, it's a perfect time to reevaluate Anderson's catalogue. Here are all of Wes Anderson's feature films, ranked from 'worst' to best. We're not including his short films here, including the collection 'The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar and Three More' — the title installment there won him an Oscar for Best Live Action Short Film at the 2024 Academy Awards ceremony. [Editor's note: This story was published on May 1, 2017 and has been updated multiple times since.] Almost as indebted to Satyajit Ray and Jean Renoir as 'The Grand Budapest Hotel' is to the writings of Stefan Zweig, 'The Darjeeling Limited' never pretends that it isn't the work of a white guy from Texas who was raised on the 'exoticism' of movies like 'Charulata' and 'The River.' On the contrary, Wes Anderson's uneven fifth film confronts that naïveté head-on, telling a story about three grieving brothers who travel to India with the half-assed hope that they can bottle up some of the country's spiritualism and take it home as a souvenir. Riding the eponymous train through the countryside and looking out the window like everything they see is a backdrop for their self-obsessive bullshit, Anderson's most noxious cast of characters learns the hard way that you can't be a tourist in your own family. Modernist to the extreme and a bit stilted as a result, 'The Darjeeling Limited' doesn't quite match the sum of its parts, but — from Bill Murray's opening dash to Amara Karan's unforgettable performance — the parts are pretty great. —DE 'If family is the sharpest and most cutting of double-edged swords, few storytellers have ever wielded it with more violent enthusiasm than Wes Anderson, whose movies often start with — and then scab over — the seemingly mortal kind of wound that only a severed relationship can leave behind, and only a carefully mended one can ever hope to fix. In that sense and several others, 'The Phoenician Scheme' is the most enthusiastically violent film that Anderson has made thus far.' 'Spackled together from all the gray paint and seriocomic grotesquerie that he couldn't find a use for in his previous work, the 'Asteroid City' auteur's hectic father-daughter story takes pains to clarify a certain ethos at the root of his art, even if it does frustratingly little to flesh that ethos out any further.' 'More linear than 'Asteroid City' or 'The Grand Budapest Hotel' and yet significantly harder to follow than either of them, 'The Phoenician Scheme' is the busiest of Anderson's films, and also — at least on first viewing — the least rewarding. The scale of its story is immense, in that Zsa-zsa (Benicio Del Toro) and the gang span an entire nation in search of the money he needs to complete his deal, but the stops on their tour often feel like isolated vignettes, more focused on milking a few dry chortles out of their celebrity cameos than they are in deepening the father-daughter bond that inspired the billionaire's cockamamy plan. At least Zsa-zsa is courteous enough to bring souvenir hand grenades with him everywhere he goes.' —DE Read IndieWire's complete review of 'The Phoenician Scheme.' Wes Anderson arrived fully formed (or close to it), and so much of his cinematic ethos can be distilled from the very first shot of his very first film, the camera crashing in on Luke Wilson's young face with the confidence of a master and the exuberance of an eternal kid. And it's really that energy that makes 'Bottle Rocket' such a perfect indication of what was to come. Yes, the film is full of Anderson's future signatures — whip-pans, insert shots of handwritten lists, overly elaborate plans, the hierarchy of accessories that are assigned for infiltration missions (and used as measuring sticks for love) — but the director's debut points the way forward because it's so high on its own existence, its characters as committed to the bubbles they create for themselves as we are to watching them burst. Anderson's most naturalistic film by a long shot (there's something so intolerably casual about those gray skies), this puckish caper movie sputters out at least three different times before James Caan even shows up to spark the third act, but 'Bottle Rocket' is colorful even when it isn't sparkling. Would Wes Anderson have even been possible without Owen Wilson there to translate him for us? His Dignan, dreamy and deranged, set the mold for at least seven movies to come, playing the guy in an electrified defensive coil of some kind, always trying to disguise themselves and doing such a poor job of it that you can't help but laugh at their transparency ('What are you putting that tape on your nose for?' Bob Mapplethorpe asks. 'Exactly,' Dignan replies). Thank God someone was able to see through the film's disastrous box office performance and recognize that this was the start of something great. —DE 'Oh, shit! Swamp leeches. Everybody, check for swamp leeches, and pull them off… Nobody else got hit? I'm the only one? What's the deal?' It's amazing, just when he was on the verge of becoming a household name, Wes Anderson made a dry nautical epic about Jacques Cousteau being a shitty father. I mean, I'd appreciate this movie being made under any circumstances, but 'The Life Aquatic' is the only Wes Anderson film that feels as though it exists for the simple reason that someone was willing to fund it. As exhaustingly dense as 'The Royal Tenenbaums,' as spirited as 'The Grand Budapest Hotel,' and as anarchic as 'Fantastic Mr. Fox,' this expansive adventure is even better than the Adidas sneakers it inspired. Yeah, it sits uncomfortably in the middle of Anderson's career and sometimes play like a watered down version of his previous work, but it also features Bill Murray as a vengeful shark hunter, Seu Jorge covering David Bowie, Cate Blanchett radiating right off the screen, Willem Dafoe as an over-sensitive German sailor, and Bud Cort giving us the closer that 'Harold and Maude' never did. —DE If the two decades that brought us 'Rushmore,' 'Fantastic Mr. Fox,' and 'Moonrise Kingdom,' felt like a passionate love affair between cinephiles and Wes Anderson, the release of 'The French Dispatch' is more akin to settling into a comfortable relationship. The excitement inevitably fades when you pretty much know what you're going to get, but that does not negate the fact that Anderson is one of the most technically proficient filmmakers working today. As his aesthetic becomes more recognizable, if that's even still possible, the (often unfair) question of what Wes Anderson is offering beyond unique interior design choices and snappy dialogue will weigh on him more with each subsequent film. 'The French Dispatch' succeeds in part because it does not particularly try to answer that question, instead offering a light ensemble piece that goes down relatively easily and gives Anderson plenty of opportunities to work with new actors and show off the cinematic bells and whistles his devotees have come to expect. The thinly veiled tribute to The New Yorker does an excellent job of weaving multiple stories together without boring audiences, even if that means sacrificing the narrative heft of some of Anderson's earlier films. While this was probably Anderson's first opportunity to cast Timothée Chalamet since the young actor broke through in 2017, the pairing still felt long overdue. As did the film's decision to partially shoot in black and white, which gave Anderson a new color palette that produced some stunning shots. Anderson's technical precision has never been better — even if the film looks less flashy than some of his earlier work, there is no doubt that he is at the top of his game as a visual filmmaker. 'The French Dispatch' did not represent a massive step forward in Anderson's filmography, but it was not a step backward, either. —CZ The world is trash, and Wes Anderson is currently enjoying the hottest streak of his career. These things, it turns out, are not unrelated. The worse things get, the more fantastical Anderson's films become; the more fantastical Anderson's films become, the better their style articulates his underlying sincerity. Disorder fuels his imagination, and the staggeringly well-crafted 'Isle of Dogs' is nothing if not Anderson's most imaginative film to date. There's a whiff of inevitability to that. Whether telling a story about a splintered New York dynasty or one about a faded European hotel where it used to be possible to find some faint glimmers of civilization in this barbaric slaughterhouse known as humanity, Anderson has always been attuned to the beauty of magical idylls, to the violence of losing them, and (most of all) to the fumblingly tragicomic process of building something better from the rubble. So at a time when global warming and gun violence have become inescapable — a time when fascism and xenophobia are no longer abstract threats so much as Republican campaign promises — it's no wonder that America's fussiest auteur is operating near the peak of his powers. 'Isle of Dogs' is the work of an artist who's howling into the same wind that's currently blowing in all of our faces. Blending Akira Kurosawa and Hayao Miyazaki into a darkly comic fable about a boy, his dog, and a world that's on the brink of running out of biscuits, this is a movie that literally asks: 'Who are we, and who do we want to be?' And since it's a Wes Anderson movie, those questions are posed straight into the camera. It's funny, it's grim, and it's probably the most pet-able bit of dystopian fiction we've ever seen. —DE If all of Anderson's movies are sustained by the tension between order and chaos, uncertainty and doubt, 'Asteroid City' is the first that takes that tension as its subject, often expressing it through the friction created by rubbing together its various levels of non-reality. Some might see that as self-amused navel-gazing, but the unexpected moment towards the end when Anderson finds a certain equilibrium between those contradictory forces — with a major assist from a movie star whose name you suddenly remember seeing in the credits some 100 minutes earlier — is so crushingly beautiful and well-earned that the artifice surrounding it simply falls away. Read IndieWire's complete review of 'Asteroid City' by David Ehrlich. For such a singular artist and aesthete, Wes Anderson has always been comfortable with wearing his influences on his sleeve, rightly confident that he can celebrate his touchstones without resigning to them. For proof, just look at the way his characters worship each other in order to find themselves — from Ned Plimpton's childhood obsession with Steve Zissou, to the mild awe that Gustave H. inspires from his new lobby boy, Anderson understands that self-discovery is the last stage of a failed attempt to become someone else. Maybe that's why 'Rushmore' represented such a breakthrough for him, because this coming-of-age story about a super precocious kid (and the grown man who goads along their mutually assured destruction) is so giddy about the things that made it possible. Running on the fumes of the French New Wave and drafting behind American touchstones like Mike Nichols and Albert Brooks, Anderson's second feature is like an artistic manifesto that never declines to cite its sources. And, not for nothing, it gave the world Jason Schwartzman, reinvigorated Bill Murray, and — most importantly — made it possible for generations of viewers to say 'Wait wait, go back… was that Rory Gilmore!?' 'Rushmore' is a film as self-possessed as its hero (and many times cooler), and that makes it a favorite for many, but it lacks the sentimental spark that galvanizes Anderson's more mature work. —DE The Wes Anderson movie that people think of when they think of Wes Anderson movies, 'The Royal Tenenbaums' is a story about failure that's told by someone who's afraid of his own ambition (or, more precisely, afraid of his unwillingness to tame it). Unfolding like 'Fanny and Alexander' as remade by a very drunk Whit Stillman, 'The Royal Tenenbaums' is responsible for so many of the worst quirks of recent indie cinema, but it falls victim to exactly none of them. It's a film where the characters are cobbled together from affects, but all manage to feel human. It's a film that feels overstuffed to the gills, but one whose every moment is iconic — gather enough twentysomethings together, and their Tenenbaums tattoos could serve as storyboards for the entire script. It's a film that leaves me a little cold every time I watch it, but always feels worth watching again. —DE Wes Anderson's career can be cut into two distinctly different parts: Before 'Fantastic Mr. Fox,' and after 'Fantastic Mr. Fox.' Stung by accusations of self-parody, Anderson could have eased off the gas after 'The Darjeeling Limited' divided critics and inspired all sorts of talk about how the filmmaker had grown subservient to his own style. But rather admit that the tail was wagging the dog, Anderson snipped the damn thing off and let his next hero wear it as a necktie. He introduced himself to audiences as an aesthete, and every one of the films he made after 'Bottle Rocket' had a little less breathable air than the last, but that was fine by Anderson. If anything, he wanted more control, he wanted to play God, he wanted to make something so airless that his characters wouldn't even need to have lungs. And so he ventured into the painstaking world of stop-motion, working in a medium where literally nothing made its way on screen unless he thought to put it there. It turns out that yeah, everything else was just getting in the way. Flattering Roald Dahl's (lovely) source material into a gloriously wry domestic comedy about compromise, belonging, and accepting one's lot in life (be it in below ground or above), 'Fantastic Mr. Fox' is more than just one of the most quotable films this side of 'Casablanca,' it's also an immaculate portrait of flawed 'people' doing the best they can for themselves and each other. —DE A pre-pubescent 'Badlands' that's told with the endearingly pathetic quality of an elementary school play, 'Moonrise Kingdom' is the rare American film that's about children, but not necessarily for children (a schism that studios can't seem to wrap their heads around, but one that artists like Robert Bresson, Ingmar Bergman, and Hayao Miyazaki have always been able to reconcile with ease). The movie begins with the most perfect premise that Wes Anderson has ever devised for himself: Two kids get together and try to run away from home, only to be stymied by the fact that they live on an island. If you squint, that pretty much sums up every Wes Anderson movie. But 'Moonrise Kingdom' isn't a story about being stuck, it's a story about how the things we can't escape are often the things that love us the most, about how the greatest myths are the ones we create for ourselves, about how everything is better when narrated by Bob Balaban. It's like a mousetrap, it's written with a whimsical Dickensian flair, and it's filled with lines so evocative that merely reading them can bring the whole film back to life ('I love you, but you don't know what you're talking about'). Anderson has made a lifetime's worth of family sagas, but none of his other movies so pointedly capture what it feels like to have a home. —DE There will always be some debate as to whether or not 'The Grand Budapest Hotel' is the best Wes Anderson movie, but there may be no denying that it's the most Wes Anderson movie. The latest work from an artist who seems to become himself a little bit more with every film, this flawless, four-tiered confection is like a wedding cake filled with arsenic, a nostalgic comedy that functions like a requiem for itself. Anderson's stories are about boys, men, or male foxes who seek to live in snow globes of their own design, ensconcing themselves in the empire of their own imaginations. Some of his films (e.g. 'Moonrise Kingdom') are about creating those magical spaces, but most of his stories are about the heartache of losing them, about the tragicomic process of building something new on top of the rubble. With 'The Grand Budapest Hotel,' Anderson directly confronts the hermetic fantasy of his films, reaching into the not-too-distant past and exhuming the spirit of Stefan Zweig in order to mourn the world we lost, the civility that we've forgotten, and the beauty of creating beautiful things even when we know that the world will never let them survive. The film is so beautifully realized that Ralph Fiennes' career-best performance almost feels like the cherry on top. Also: Willem Dafoe playing the best henchman who Bond never killed, and Tilda Swinton as a sexually active octogenarian. And Saoirse Ronan's Mexico-shaped birthmark. Oh, and also the best line that Anderson has ever written, shrugged off like an afterthought in the first act: 'You see, there are still faint glimmers of civilization left in this barbaric slaughterhouse that was once known as humanity. Indeed, that's what we provide in our own modest, humble, insignificant… oh, fuck it.' —DE Best of IndieWire The Best Thrillers Streaming on Netflix in June, from 'Vertigo' and 'Rear Window' to 'Emily the Criminal' Nightmare Film Shoots: The 38 Most Grueling Films Ever Made, from 'Deliverance' to 'The Wages of Fear' Quentin Tarantino's Favorite Movies: 65 Films the Director Wants You to See