“Don’t crawl in shit. You’ll never wash it off.
…
Now I know. I know. The important thing is your conscience, to be true to yourself.”
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The Ascent 1977
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Blood Simple 1984
“Marty, how come you’re anal and I gotta go to the psychiatrist?”
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The French Dispatch 2021
I can’t help but feel that this represents the end of something for Wes Anderson. He has a knack for inverting style and substance that resolutely and playfully obfuscates their boundary without degrading either, like a child discovering what it means to tell the truth only after learning to lie. I’m reminded of Husserl’s claim that “philosophy may be paradoxically, but not unprofoundly, the science of the trivial.” The charming humanism of Anderson’s work resides in the persistent and seemingly disproportionate attitudes of severity that his characters take towards their objects, in spite of the often blatant and relative insignificance of those contents.
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Eraserhead 1977
Beautiful film. Gonna have to revisit when my brain is less swamped and I am capable of coherent thought
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