by Joel
#72 in Best of the 21st Century?, a series counting down the most acclaimed films of the previous decade. This review contains spoilers.
Whose name should open this review – Roald Dahl’s or Wes Anderson’s? Roald Dahl, of course, wrote Fantastic Mr. Fox in 1970. As embodied by Dahl’s droll, devilishly nasty (though less than usual) prose and Quentin Blake’s trademark sketchy, jagged illustrations, Mr. Fox is a cunning, boastful, and rakish chicken-thief who, trapped in his hole by farmers Boggis, Bunce, and Bean, digs tunnels directly into their territory. As the farmers guard the hole, hoping to starve out their quarry, Mr. Fox pays a visit to Boggis’ chicken coop, Bunce’s store room, and Bean’s cider cellar, assembling a great feast for all the animals who have been rooted out of their forest homes by the vengeful humans, forced underground but provided for by Fox’s expert thieving. Dahl tells the story methodically but crisply, employing repetition as children’s authors do but imbuing his narrative with a subversive sensibility, humorous character touches, and gruesome details (“[Bean’s] earholes were clogged with all kinds of muck and wax and bits of chewing-gum and dead flies and stuff like that”). The story is minimally ornamental – a simple narrative decorated with Dahl’s trademark touches. Anderson, on the other hand, is known to fetishize the smallest details – something the film’s animation allows him to do with greater care than ever before. He accumulates ephemera at such a rapid clip that it becomes the very substance of his work – more importantly, the whiffs and whisps of association clinging to his stylistic flourishes, filmic and pop cultural references, and imaginative set design and color coordination cohere into an overhanging mood of wistful romanticism and melancholy, on which his best films float and his weaker films coast. The character of Mr. Fox and the contours of the story he inhabits will always belong to Dahl. But the movie in question is so saturated with Anderson’s vision that it could easily be called “Wes Anderson’s Fantastic Mr. Fox.”
That’s not to suggest that Fantastic Mr. Fox is entirely typical of Wes Anderson’s oeuvre. First, there’s the obvious fact that the film is created with lovingly handcrafted stop-motion animation. The nostalgia of the format (a 60s and 70s standby that fell by the wayside with the advent of CGI) certainly has the Anderson touch, as does the meticulousness required in its execution – Anderson may be the most controlled and controlling filmmaker since Stanley Kubrick. However, Anderson’s earlier films were characterized by a rich and fascinating tension between the “live” element – the performances, the real locations – and the super-coordinated mise en scene. Such a tension is at the heart of cinema’s appeal, the act of recording and the illusionist conceit being dual aims of filmmakers since the medium’s earliest days. By imposing such a powerful presence on his work (any frame of an Anderson film is instantly identifiable) yet choosing to work with actors who bring their own unpredictable, idiosyncratic approach to bear (Bill Murray, Gene Hackman) Anderson highlighted a tendency already present in his screenplays. His stories often cast dreamers adrift in worlds which refused to function according to their wishes (though in all Anderson films, to ever-increasing degree, these worlds still seems to exist as a projection of the characters’ fertile sensibilities). For obvious reasons, such a tension cannot be present in Fantastic Mr. Fox.
Likewise, and perhaps accordingly, this is not really a sad film. Anderson’s previous films had a strong undercurrent of melancholy, more touching and less forced in those collaborations with co-writer and actor Owen Wilson (Rushmore and Royal Tenenbaums) than with those with Fox‘s co-writer Noah Baumbach (Life Acquatic) – into whose work a certain self-satisfaction tends to creep. At any rate, the source material does not exactly welcome moody introspection and while Anderson and Baumbach introduce a couple teenage foxes into the mix, their angst is really just one quirky element among many. The film does deal in loss and unease, manifesting themes that obsess Anderson (nostalgia for a recent past), Baumbach (marital tensions) or both (father-son relationships). However, these concerns are so deftly weaved into the fabric of the fast-paced narrative and blink-you’ll-miss-it visual schema that they don’t have the same effect as do the more pronounced examples of ennui in other Anderson works. Finally, Fantastic Mr. Fox indicates a welcome departure from Anderson’s last couple films in its tighter, less wandering narration: though there are still plenty of asides, and the structure is not entirely traditional, Anderson remains somewhat bound by Dahl’s story, and that’s a good thing. As long as he’s engaging with the forms of narrative filmmaking, he might as well ground his set pieces and delightful non sequiturs in a firm plot.
In many ways, Fantastic Mr. Fox remains indelibly Anderson’s. It has all the needle drops one would expect, with the retro music-loving filmmaker finding room for everything from “The Ballad of Davy Crocket” to “Jumpin’ Jack Flash” to the multiple Beach Boys tracks. Though in a narrower aspect ratio than his previous films (1.85:1), Anderson nonetheless utilizes horizontal space to great effect – or as Roger Ebert puts it, “the cameras are happier sliding back and forth than moving in and out” (oftentimes we feel as if we’re looking into giant ant farms). Anderson also finds ways to playfully batter his proud protagonist’s ego, a trademark gesture allowing the brilliant filmmaker to pay tribute to hubris-laden dreamers while also viewing them with a modicum of detached skepticism. In Dahl’s book, Mr. Fox is arrogant to the end. Today, we like our children’s stories with more constructive morals, and so this Mr. Fox (suave, smug charm perfectly embodied by George Clooney’s vocal talents) learns the value of collaboration, employing the talents of his fellow animals in a final rescue plan. Importantly, he is also saddled with a tougher Mrs. Fox than Dahl provides (in the book, Fox’s spouse waits at home while he saunters forth to snatch his prey; in the movie, she’s initially his co-conspirator despite eventually asking him to settle down). Voiced by Meryl Streep, this Mrs. Fox is constantly berating her husband for his derring-do, and indeed his risk-taking is made to seem far more foolhardy here than Dahl allows. These are not just modern conventions taking hold of a 40-year-old tale; since Bottle Rocket, Anderson has undercut male confidence (even as he admires its blind faith in itself) and attempted to step outside the purely objectifying gaze of his heroes’ romantic consciousness (even as he shares it to a certain extent).
Aside from its auteurist interest (which I’ve emphasized here given the uniqueness of an animated film, based on a beloved children’s story, helmed by an incredibly unique and influential director) Fantastic Mr. Fox is an amusing comedy (with actors like Bill Murray and Michael Gambon providing both resonance and perfectly-suited presence), an entertainingly rapid-fire exercise in visual storytelling (one senses it will take several viewings to pick up even mininally on what’s been offered), and a pictorial delight. The movie is a beauty to behold – lovingly crafted and imaginatively constructed to the point where we almost take its world for granted, occasionally forgetting the sheer achievement of what’s onscreen, disappearing instead into its texture. Though filled with self-conscious gestures and witty references, the movie’s breakneck speed, narrative conceits, and fully inhabited and detailed settings allow the viewer to slip into its universe with ease, postponing exploration (though one knows there’s just so much to explore) for later viewings, going along for the ride. At first this can be somewhat disconcerting, both for those keyed into Anderson’s milieu (and hence hyper-aware of the level the film is operating on) and for those expecting something more conventional (they may be initially confused and distracted by the sheer volume of information thrown at them). Sometimes one misses the simple clarity of older forms – and Anderson can seem to pile it on a bit thick; besides, some gestures (the winky yellow chapter-headings, for example) have become a bit old-hat. Yet one can’t really complain; it’s so rare to find a film which can both function as a straightforward story and a universe to explore – here Wes Anderson, with Roald Dahl’s inspiration, has treated us to just such an experience. At the risk of seeming obvious (a sin in Wes’ world) it’s a truly fantastic gift.
Fantastic review here Joel. This is a film I haven’t seen, and haven’t really thought about seeing. This review almost changes that, which is about the best I can say for it.
Nice work. I’m kind of surprised this was included in a ‘Best of’ Decade list.
Thanks, Jamie – that is the best recommendation one can give! I’m kind of surprised the film made the list too – I didn’t realize it was quite so critically acclaimed (the list is based mostly on year-end top-ten lists). What’s your take on Anderson’s other films? I love Rushmore & Royal Tenenbaums, but felt Life Acquatic and Darjeeling Limited, while somewhat enjoyable, disappointed by coasting too much on Anderson’s style, and also missed the humanist touch Owen Wilson may have brought to the previous collaborations. Fantastic Mr. Fox was an improvement on these films, I think, without quite recovering the resonance I felt in the earlier films. (I liked Bottle Rocket too but only saw it once, a while ago, when it struck me as relatively proto-Anderson. I understand it’s actually a lot of people’s favorite though…)
Sam, I remember you saying you generally liked the film – I thought this might be another case of you liking the movie in question more than I did. I can see some of your criticisms though, as the film is so fast-paced and full of ideas that at times it can be a bit overwhelming, with the result that, yes, it is somewhat emotionally distancing, particularly initially. Also I think the emotional resonance of Anderson’s work is stronger when he’s working in live-action, for the reasons mentioned above. But it seems to me such a rich and lively work, that the credits should be given preference over the debits. I remember I also liked Where the Wild Things Are (much) more than you did, which is another case of a classic children’s book being given the “modern” treatment (albeit not as egregiously as something like, say,
to finish my thought: ” ‘Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs’ (which I did not see).”
I’m not the greatest Anderson fan, I like BOTTLE ROCKET and RUSHMORE the most (with RUSHMORE being my favorite), ROYAL TENENBAUMS I like, but I’ve only seen it once when it came out years ago so I’d need to see that one again. THE LIFE AQUATIC was good enough and watchable, same goes for DAREELING LIMITED (actually I like Brody in the later as I also did in THE BROTHERS BLOOM but consider both exercises in production design over anything else). I liked pieces of each, but at the end thought both were light and breezy. In reality I’d put all his films in that category, Anderson is way to hipster for my taste for me to be that rabid about him.
I like this review, as you’ve spent the time reading and comparing to the original source material. I was a fan of Dahl as a youth and teen (more about his horror short stories though, and adult themed literature), so I am surprised I’ve never given this a go. We’ll see, if I do I will return and comment.
One thing I do like about Anderson is that he’s clearly a finicky typographer–it’s a great trait to have (and one that not enough filmmakers share) but damn why have such an infinity for a typeface as ugly as marigold Futura?
My personal favorite is probably either “Rushmore” or “Darjeeling”, but “Fox” is a close second/third. “Bottle Rocket” is cute, clever and fun, but moves a little too fast for me at times. “Tenenbaums” and especially “Life Aquatic” are both sort of brilliant, but they’re overly dependent upon the influences of Salinger and Costeau to escape the insular hermetic seal that can trap a lot of his work. I’m tempted to say that the best thing Anderson’s done might be that AmEx commercial he did, or the “Hotel Chevalier” segment of “Darjeeling”. Perhaps he, like Gondry, should experiment with more short-subjects rather than features?
Yeah Bob his shorts are good, but I am completely unable to objectively judge the one with a short haired Portman.
perhaps he should think about doing a film as three shorts on a theme, think Ophuls ‘Le Plaisir’ or the recent ‘Taxidemia’.
By the way, Joel, did you get my new “Guess the Pic” image alright? If not, I can send it again.
To me, Royal Tenenbaums represents just how far Anderson can go before his aesthetic starts to become something of a dead-end (or put another way, maybe he can only do the trick with full success once). Rushmore is much more about a tension between a melancholy romanticism and the demands of the (or an at least semi-)real world. It may be his best film, but because Royal Tenenbaums is the most successfully archetypal Anderson film, I’m tempted to call it his masterpiece.
I think his later films coast a bit too much on the “hipster” quality Jamie defines, but I also think Tenenbaums did a great deal to define that hipster culture – which was something very different in the 90s when another director, Tarantino, helped define it.
Anyway, hipster culture seems to have moved on somewhat since then – the last time I was in Brooklyn I was amused to see that hipster fashion now rests on a weird combination of 70s gym-class chic and addled 80s female fashion – on guys. Perhaps now that it no longer has to bear the burden of the zeitgeist, it will be easier to judge Anderson’s work in the future.
Incidentally, I’ve a confession to make: though I read most of Dahl’s books as a kid, I somehow never made it to Mr. Fox. I actually watched it after screening the film, when I luckily discovered a copy in the vicinity. I agree with Jamie, though, that the review benefits from the wider context; in general, while I agree with most movie buffs that a knowledge of source material is not necessary to judge a film, I think it often makes analysis more interesting – and it’s a context I increasingly try to seek out before offering up my own view.
Bob, I agree that it would be interesting to see Anderson flirt more with the short form, however – oddly enough, given my preference for the short work of that other hip/childlike/control-freak wunderkind Gondry – I think that, ideally, a feature format brings out the best in him. He’s a director of moments and moments, paradoxically, thrive on a wider context which both gives them greater resonance and sets them free. This is one reason I’m not a big fan of narrative shorts in general; and I’m not really sure how Anderson would function in a non-narrative environment – so many of his ideas, however one-off they seem, thrive in the web he creates for him.
By the way, got the pic and it will be up soon…
Lol MovieMan……I live in Park Slope Brooklyn and the 70’s “gym class chic” look is spot on!! At least the whole Civil War mustache style is starting to fade away slowly.
On second thought, Bob, looks like you might need to send again (see e-mail).
I think Wes Anderson is still big with the hipsters though. Watch Rushmore and listen to Merriweather Post Pavillion by Animal Collective and your hipster badge is guaranteed to be in the mail.
Yeah, what really threw me on my last visit to Williamsburg were the leg warmers on dudes. At the present rate of perversity, I’m half-expecting Brooklyn hipsters to end up as Tea Party conservatives who listen to the Carpenters…
I have a gym I used to go to to jog, and play a spot of indoor soccer… and this was in an area in Chicago where hipsters would congregate and I remember jogging in shorts and a t-shirt (nothing out of the ordinary) and hipster guys would show up in short 70’s shorts, pulled up tubesocks and mesh t-shirts… I remember thinking to myself “jesus, is there ever a time where these guys aren’t trying to be ironic or hip?” I mean here you are sweating and exercising and even there they can’t cool it. I wonder if they wear neon speedos in the shower even if no one would see them, as in there mind they would know the difference and if would haunt them. Either way it seems quite a task to keep up this worthless of a charade.
MovieMan–Joining the Tea Party movement would be the ultimate sign of ironic hipness. I’m thinking you hit on something with that suggestion. As for The Carpenters, that scenario has already played out. I have seen a few people with that group’s t-shirt along with Dio, Abba, Bread, and Taco. Mr Roboto and Sister Christian can be heard every weekend at some dive bar in these parts.
Jaimie–So Chicago has been infiltrated as well. I guess every big city has some variation of the hipster model. To be honest, I would rather hang out with Tea Party people than a group of hipsters. At least the Teabaggers have real genuine beliefs and don’t consider the world to be something to smirk at. Funny because I grew up in a neighborhood where the Jersey Shore look is somewhat popular (though most Italian’s are ashamed of these people) among the population. I’ve been called a hipster myself by some of my more old school acquaintances. Believe me I am nothing of the kind. It has more to do with my belief that Scarface and Biggie Smalls are not the pinnacle of film and music.
Abba always had a weird kind of street cred though – apparently Kurt Cobain was an (un-ironic) fan…
No longer living in a hip enclave (in my current neighborhood, facial hair is enough to spur cries of “Freak” and “Nice beard!” while several people with messanger bags have been accosted as “faggots” by passing cars…) I tend to find the hipsters generally harmless and amusing these days. As for teabaggers (and I must admit I get a kick out of how sensitive to homophobia many conservatives have gotten since the advent of that turn) several of my dad’s friends are die-hard anti-Obamites who send out ridiculous e-mails which he and I like to tweak them on. So far no harm but if the Republicans sweep in the fall my amusement level will probably decrease exponentially.
By the way I’ve never had the handlebar moustache, but I did once sport mutton-chops, which I think we can agree is the better Civil War facial hair (Jeb Stuar beards probably trump both…)
As an authentic heavy metal fan I loathe the wearing of classic era metal acts as ironic. In no way is that cool, Dio, even with all his theatrics was ten times more authentic then these people. And he probably took himself quite a bit less serious as they do, which is the opposite of what they actually think.
That and these guys don’t go near the real stuff anyways… it’s easy to mock Dio, it’s another thing to mock Tool, Mike Patton, Dillinger Escape Plan, Black Metal, Industrial stuff. etc.
I think if the Tea Party people directed their anger at the right people and dropped the crazy social conservatism it would be a semi viable movement. The fact that politicians and corporate types perverted capitalism (still the best system if done right) to near epic proportions has not been rightfully addressed. Their basic argument against the financial bailout and government’s lousy ability to run stuff is rather accurate. The problem is that they seem to really be more about stifling a black president, instituting regressive social beliefs, and aiding every right wing cause. I can’t trust anyone who thinks that evolution is a myth and the bible is the actual word of god.
Uh anyway back to hipsters…..I feel Abba is liked more for the cheesy irony. If people wanted to really hear great euro electronic dance they would seek out Kraftwerk or Giorgio Moroder. Mutton Chops aren’t for me. I usually have a five o’clock shadow and shave only once every 4-5 days.
Jaimie–Poor Dio. That little sicilian man sure was serious about metal. Never been a big fan of that genre but I find some of the dark ambient Burzum stuff to be interesting. I had an ex who’s cousin was in a black metal band. At some point ten guys adorned with pentagrams were trying to kill me at his show. Luckily I had some friends with me and the bouncers decided to take the “normal looking guys” side. I remember one of them had a shirt with the saying “and finally we nail the final bolt into the coffin of christianity” lol. Not sure how I got out of there with my life. Those Black Metal guys are rather extreme. I want to see that documentary “Where The Light Takes Us” about the Norway scene.
“First, there’s the obvious fact that the film is created with lovingly handcrafted stop-motion animation. The nostalgia of the format (a 60s and 70s standby that fell by the wayside with the advent of CGI) certainly has the Anderson touch, as does the meticulousness required in its execution – Anderson may be the most controlled and controlling filmmaker since Stanley Kubrick…”
The majority of my comments for your 21st Century series, Joel, have been to make claim that you’ve “underrated” some films, even as you issued favorable assessments. In this instance I’d say I am not quite the fan you are, as for me teh final third of the film petered out with a dearth of new ideas. Still, I recall Ed Howard rejecting this argument in the comment section of his own review, feeling that the film was just as creative in the later reels. I went in perhaps with the very highest expectations, having read the reviews, and being a lifelong (fanatical) fan of the author Roald Dahl. I am not the biggest fan of Wes Anderson either, but I am not here to crash a party but to again commend you on this super-insightful, beautifully-written and astute review, which makes a compelling argument for the film’s appeal and artistry. Still I do agree that Anderson does “put it a bit thick” at times and that the film is curiously uneven and emotionally distant. But yeah, Dahl’s satirical underpinnings are the thing, and in this sense it does come off as a considerable achievement.
[…] Fantastic Mr. Fox (2009, USA), dir. Wes […]
Joel-
Something that I remember from elementary school: a man visited our classroom to show us his elaborate dioramas, which were small apartments for mice. The models were so intricate; I can remember he crafted miniature coke cans, trash, debris on the floor – keep in mind these models were only about 8″x8″x8″. It was amazing – I’d give anything to find out about who that guy was.
I can also remember that the library had a book which was all illustrations on the same subject – a hollowed out log or tree stump or underground burrow full of modern conveniences for wild animals. The details were so intricate and the illustrations so well done; I checked that book out all the time.
My attraction to both these things is a multi-tiered illusion: the idea that man posesses (and should), like god, powers both infinite and infinitesimal, that the wild animal will conform to man’s technology and structures, that life can be borne of manual labor. Part of the appeal of stop-motion animation, aside from its “kitsch” value designated by popular culture (and by extension its “re-discovery” by the counter-culture) is that all these illusions are strung together on a daisy chain and engage the viewer in what appears to be a magical act of creation. Another movie (which exemplifies this point perfectly) is The Adventures of Mark Twain.
Max, great observations & I think this ties into the “city of the imagination” thing as well – the structures man creates have an almost subliminal effect on man himself too. So that the manmade becomes just as overpowering and larger-than-life (and controlling) as nature itself. In a creative act like that, I guess you could say people become at once godlike (inasmuch as they are creating these structures) and more powerless/animal-like (inasmuch as the structures overpower them). Thinking about this phenomenon, I always come back to the movie “City of God” where initially the town created for the impoverished Brazilians is sparse, logical, clearly defined. Within twenty years, it has become overgrown, densely populated, and intricately defined by all the activity buzzing around within it. Now I’ve sort of come 180 degrees away from your point, I guess – from animals or people being submissive towards structures, to them transforming these very structures and making them harder to digest in a single view. In both cases though the point is the interaction between structure and subject and how the two feed off of one another.
I’m googling the mouse diorama thing and can’t find it – yet.
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