Review: Asteroid City Says Nothing in a Way That Says Everything

"...a nice testament to how we process the human experience in full." Check out Stoney Keeley's review of Asteroid City!

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Asteroid City was easily my most anticipated movie of the year. Thanks to our resident film critic, Brandon Vick, I caught wind of an advanced screening at Opry Mills on Tuesday night. When asked if I wanted to go, I responded quickly, “hell yeah!” After pounding some drinks at TGI Friday, as one does on a Tuesday evening in Nashville, we made way for our theater.

On the surface, this is an easy review – if you like Wes Anderson, and I do mean the totality of Wes Anderson, you’ll enjoy this movie. It is one of his quintessential works – the signature framing of characters, the juxtaposition of vibrant colors, quirky dialogue laced with dry humor, powerhouses from the acting world galore, slow-burning pauses that allow us to ponder the meaning in his words, dueling narratives, and a story within a story. It’s all there, and it’s all there in spades in this film. Kyle Buchanan of the New York Times called it his “Wessiest movie yet,” and yeah…I can’t think of a better way to put it. But, lurking beneath that surface is a series of themes and concepts that form a message that left me feeling quite existential leaving the theater.

I wasn’t even going to write about this movie. I figure sometimes I can see something for pure enjoyment and not for work. The old “not everything has to be monetized” bit, right? But, I saw a review on Rotten Tomatoes that absolutely infuriated me, and now I can’t stop typing about it. An audience member said the movie had him questioning, “what am I even doing here?” And, like…yeah, man…I kind of think that’s the fucking point. I know it was meant to imply that Asteroid City was a waste of his time, but in doing so, he captured exactly what I loved about the spirit of this movie so much in a single sentence – what the hell are we even doing here?

“What’s out there? The meaning of life, maybe there is one.”

-Woodrow Steenbeck

Even as a staunch supporter of this movie, I’ll admit that Anderson toys with a few ideas before tossing them out without any definitive statement or resolution. This is one of those films where things are there for you to chew on if you’re hungry, and there’s plenty left open to interpretation (which is, in a way, a nod to the routine of human existence in its own right). But, you have to do the work, and it’s easy to let your mind wander in the widely present silence and style of the film. Or hell, maybe I’m just more anxious and depressed than the average person and Asteroid City has a way of calling to those feelings of emptiness while looking bright and offbeat. Who’s to say?

Anderson’s style is a hallmark of his work, and this film is no different. I loved the setting, the bright oranges and tans of the desert littered with teal accents, and the quintessential 1950s fashion to boot. I’m with our buddy Sean Atkins, the EIC of 615 Film, who also attended the screening and pointed out how much he loved the 1950s callbacks. We even got an Ovaltine drop in the movie!

At its core, I felt a lonely, isolated search for meaning. Why does Augie burn his hand on the griddle? From Conrad Earp (Edward Norton) drinking too much, tweaking his play, and trying to find the perfect casting for Augie Steenbeck (Jason Schwartzman) to Dr. Hickenlooper (Tilda Swinton) studying the solar system, Asteroid City was chock full of people seeking a deeper understanding of the very things that make them tick. By the way, I’m going to need Norton doing some Conrad Earp ASMR with that accent. I don’t know when else I can work that note in, so let’s drop it here. Anderson puts characters from all walks of life together, whether it’s the war photographer who does his work in combat zones, the leading lady on the silver screen, the wealthy grandpa who lives in a house with a swimming pool, physicists, military, mechanics, or even the overly understanding and accommodating hotel manager, they all end up in the same spot: the middle of the desert next to a big hole in the ground. It was a way of saying that while we’re all dealing with our own issues, we’re all in this thing together.


Anderson touched on a generational aspect of this search for meaning. We hear some of the kids talking about finding their purpose, but the scene during which Dr. Hickenlooper reinforces Woodrow by telling him that his work does have a purpose made for a tender moment that highlighted a certain compassion the older generations should have in seeing how their attitudes have rubbed off on the young ones, how we sometimes create these ideals without necessarily meaning to. The message I took from Dr. Hickenlooper was that the thing you love is your purpose, and you can do great things with it. Her telling Woodrow that he can use her lab and equipment any time showed a connectedness between the two. Don’t feel so lost, Woodrow.


Then, there’s the alien, which felt like a direct representation of the unknown. Our ragtag bunch of characters all see the same thing, but you can see them processing it differently, an interesting metaphor for how we react to such things collectively, and another nice little nod to real life.

“I reckon that alien didn’t mean no harm. No, he ain’t American. No, he ain’t a creature of God’s Earth, but he’s a creature of somewhere.”

-Montana

We don’t know why the alien showed up. Was it really just scoping things out? Was it really just inventorying the asteroid that had fallen from the skies all those years ago? Who knows? But, we have a large contingency of wayward souls banded together because of it.


Anderson uses the Steenbeck clan and Stanley Zak (played marvelously by Tom Hanks) to explore how we process grief. Be it a monotonous deadpan doing what he can to move forward, repeating several times that he’s a war photographer almost as if he’s reminding himself to keep it together. Be it a group of children struggling with their beliefs and the taxing question of what comes next. Be it a grandfather who might not know the healthiest way to express his emotions. We all process things differently, and we all evolve because of it. Woodrow eventually tells his grandfather that he doesn’t believe in God anymore, to which Zak replies, “fair enough.

Midge (Scarlett Johansson) tells Augie to “use his grief” when they’re rehearsing some of her lines for an upcoming role. As the camera zooms in on Augie solemnly delivers his lines, I found it to be a powerful metaphor for how our grief can strengthen us. If we can harness that energy in a healthy and productive way, it’s how we move forward. That scene was also a signal to the deep connection between two broken people, and how even those of us who feel shattered can find a connection with one another. Their relationship was another example of how Anderson layered the “we are not alone” message in this story – whether it’s human connection, or our literal place in the universe.


All in all, Asteroid City highlights humankind’s search for meaning and understanding, how the question can face us no matter what our background is, how the question slips from one generation to another, and how our experiences shape our outlook on life. I found it to be a nice testament to how we process the human experience in full. I don’t think I ever felt like my feet were firmly planted on the ground watching this movie. Whether it’s characters in a play wondering where an alien went, or actors wondering why a character puts his hand on a hot griddle, we see art imitating life imitating art. You can’t wake up if you don’t fall asleep – sometimes we have to let go in order to understand ourselves at a deeper level.

And, there’s still just some random shit that happens and we don’t know why – why the fuck are the police chasing someone on three different occasions? Again….for fucks sake, why did Augie burn his hand on the griddle? Sometimes, we don’t know. Sometimes, we just have to live with the question.

Something about this movie looked so colorful and pretty, but felt deeply sad. I needed to be told it’s going to be okay. The message wasn’t so on-the-nose that it was staring down the barrel at us. But in a subtle way, with all of these loose ideas and unresolved conflicts floating around and within some of our characters, that was indicative of our real lives. That’s where I found the real spirit of this film, and it’s where it truly spoke to me…not everything is wrapped up nice and neatly with a bow on it. It wasn’t the search for meaning shrouded in doom and gloom. It was a colorful, witty, and hopeful reflection of everyday life through two different lenses that pose the same question in very different circumstances. That’s why I say Asteroid City says nothing in a way that says everything. It’s a collection of scenes that feel scattered and detached on their own, but if you can find your own thread to tie them together, the message is heartfelt.

My score: 4.5/5, and honestly, it probably would’ve been a 5/5 if my knees didn’t hurt from not being able to stretch out my legs in the theater. No, you know what? Fuck it, my actual score: it’s a 5/5 for me. It’s art, baby – celebrating a little bit of everything from color to the written word to that profound feeling that good art gives you. I can’t wait to watch it again and write 1700 more words on it.

Stoney Keeley is the Editor in Chief of The SoBros Network, and a Dogs Playing Poker on velvet connoisseur. He is a strong supporter of Team GSD, #BeBetter, and ‘Minds right, asses tight.’ “Big Natural” covers the Tennessee Titans, Nashville, Yankee Candle, and a whole wealth of nonsense. Follow on Twitter @StoneyKeeley.

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