Asteroid City

  Deep in the middle of nowhere, in the US desert, a tiny town's formed around a five thousand year old meteorite crater. Home to a diner, a garage, a small scientific community and not much else, Asteroid City is formally introduced in a stunning scene where writer/director Wes Anderson takes in the whole of this 50's podunk town with his trademark sharp, angular pans. It shortly becomes minor hub of activity when it hosts a convention for young stargazers to present their atomic age sci-fi inventions under the auspices of Uncle Sam.

 The teens (Jake Ryan, Grace Edwards, Sophia Lillis, Aristou Mehan and Ethan Lee) get along almost immediately, finally finding a nerd-friendly space where they all feel accepted. Their proud parents bring their own problems with them, most notably recent widower/war correspondent Augie (Jason Schwartzman) and ennui-afflicted actress Midge (Scarlett Johansson), who connect almost immediately, sharing their fears and frustrations across their opposing cabin windows.
 Tom Hanks plays Augie's father-in-law, who arrives a little later; Tilda Swinton's a local scientist, and Steve Carrell an enterprising local. There's also a travelling country band stuck waiting for the train, and a school trip there to see some sort of celestial alignment event, led by Rupert Friend and Maya Hawke respectively.

 As ceremonies go on the proceeds are interrupted by an alien presence, which necessitates government intervention and a quarantine of the small town. As the gifted kids try to work out what it all meant, the adults grapple with their own problems and doubts.

 And if all that wasn't busy enough for you, there's also an elaborate framing device where an Ed-Murrow-style TV presenter (Bryan Cranston) treats us to the story of how Asteroid City - the fictional TV show the movie we're watching is based on - came together, all the way from its origins as a play: so add to the cast the screenwriter (Ed Norton), the director (Adrian Brody) and of course the actors playing the characters in the main story appear again playing their actors, not the characters.
 It's convoluted and very meta, but only deceptively extraneous: these background scenes inform the main story, as the actors start questioning their character's motives and internal life, culminating in a scene where the actor for Augie takes a time out to catch some air and has an important tete-a-tete with an actress from a neighboring production.

 Wes Anderson's movies have always been arch, self-aware and purposefully artificial, but never as post-modern as this, never as meta; at points it flirts with surrealism. This is not peak Anderson (except for style): the humor often falls flat, it takes some left turns that I found a bit cringeworthy, and the talented/bloated cast runs a bit together as they all deliver their lines in the same, familiar deadpan rapid-fire; it gets old quickly. The film is flabby, overindulgent and its style tends to overwhelm quieter moments. Everything is stylized to within an inch of its life.
 You know, #WesAnderson problems.

 But it also has too many powerful moments, affecting lines, and intriguing ideas to ignore. And some really funny bits that no other director could pull off. I didn't find it to be as good as most of Anderson's other movies, but it does have a core of honesty, a reflection of where his head is at  these days (in a cloud of existential angst, it looks like). And it left me thinking about it for a long time, which is something I always respect.

 I suspect if you like Anderson's stuff, you'll at least tolerate it- even if it's just for the visual flourishes, sight gags, or the killer's row of acting talent (did I mention Stephen Park, Margot Robbie, Jeffrey Wright, Bob Balaban and Willem Dafoe are in this as well? Only Bill Murray is missing, as he had to bow out due to COVID.)
 If you don't like Anderson, though, you're probably better off watching anything else.