Weird and … Fascinating (?)
Reviews and Comments by Ken Burke
I invite you to join me on a regular basis to see how my responses to current cinematic offerings compare to the critical establishment, which I’ll refer to as either the CCAL (Collective Critics at Large) if they’re supportive or the OCCU (Often Cranky Critics Universe) when they go negative. However, due to COVID concerns I’m mostly addressing streaming options with limited visits to theaters, where I don’t think I’ve missed much anyway, though better options may be on the horizon. (Note: Anything in bold blue [some may look near purple] is a link to something more in the review.)
Here’s the trailer:
(Use the full screen button in the image’s lower right to enlarge its size;
activate the same button or use “esc” keyboard key to return to normal.)
If you can abide plot spoilers read on, but this blog’s intended for those who’ve seen the film or want to save some $ (as well as recognizing those readers like me who just aren’t that tech-savvy). To help any of you who want to learn more details yet avoid these all-important plot-reveals I’ll identify any give-away sentences/sentence-clusters with colors plus arrows:
⇒The first and last words will be noted with arrows and red.⇐ OK, now continue on if you prefer.
What Happens: In this weirdly-surreal film we’re in 1955 as a host (Bryan Cranston) for a live TV drama* addresses a small TV studio audience and the at-home-broadcast-audience, introducing this presentation of Asteroid City, an existing play by legendary-playwright Conrad Earp (Edward Norton)—we get graphics along the way informing us which of the 3 acts and related small cluster of scenes we’re about to watch—and members of the large cast. All of this—and any scenes that shift back to this opening premise or ones like it (that also take place on a stage with a small live audience watching) are presented in black & while in the old 4X3 format that was the standard for television in its early years (as well as film for decades before that, although by the 1950s color and widescreen were making their way into frequently-growing-use in an attempt to lure audiences back into theaters after the impactful-advent of TV). When we get into the broadcast, though, the images are now in color and widescreen (impossible for 1955 TV) with sets and backgrounds (shot in Spain) that look to me like they could almost be computer graphics (also not possible in 1955 so we’re aware immediately what a strange environment we’re in here, with more head-scratching to come as with the vast desert locale which couldn't have existed on a TV studio stage). The play takes place in (fictional) Asteroid City, located somewhere in the desert near where Arizona, California, and Nevada come together, named that because eons ago the Arid Plains Meteorite slammed into the ground there creating a huge hole so it’s now a (very) minor tourist attraction,** but for our purposes it’s the site of the annual Junior Stargazer and Space Cadet convention, run by 5-star General Grif Gibson (Jeffery Wright), where 5 teenagers will receive awards for their science-based-inventions.
*Inspired by such TV fare in the 1950s as the highly-respected, often-awarded Playhouse 90 (CBS, 1956-’60) where later-noted film directors such as John Frankeheimer, Sidney Lumet, and George Roy Hill, screenwriters like Rod Serling and Horton Foote were involved with projects including original versions of Requiem for a Heavyweight, Days of Wine and Roses, Judgment at Nuremberg.
**This part of the story may have been inspired by Meteor Crater, near Winslow, AZ where there is a huge desert-displacement caused by an extraterrestrial impact some 50,000 years ago. Back in 1964, as i'm returning to Texas with my parents after a whirlwind tour of Juarez, Mexico, Disneyland, Pacific Coast Hwy 1, San Francisco, Las Vegas, and the Grand Canyon we stopped briefly at this “destination,” which at the time was a big hole in the ground (maybe it’s a bit more exciting now [?]).
One winner is Woodrow Steenbeck (Jake Ryan),*** accompanied by his father, Augie (Jason Schwartzman) and 3 young sisters, Andromeda, Pandora, and Cassiopeia (actual sisters Ella, Grace, Willan Faris)—Augie’s wife is dead, but he hasn’t told his kids yet although he did bring along her ashes in a small Tupperware bowl. Another oddity is while this family’s in a local café we see an atomic bomb detonation in the background which causes nary a stir among anyone on screen. Complications arise for the Steenbecks, though, when their car develops major problems, forcing Augie to call (former) father-in-law, Stanley Zak (Tom Hanks), to retrieve them after the ceremony’s over; Stanley begrudgingly agrees (never liked Augie), soon arrives, as do the other winners with (as best I caught it) 1 parent apiece, including Midge Campbell (Scarlett Johansson), an unhappy actress miserable with current directions of her career, and her daughter, Dinah (Grace Edwards)—there’s also a busload of young children along with their tense teacher, June Douglas (Maya Hawke).
Then, for no clear reason, we cut away from the color flow of the play back to the B&W setting similar to how we met the narrator but now the small audience is watching on stage what we’d have to interpret as a flashback of how Earp auditioned actor Jones Hall (Schwartzman) for the role of Augie, an event ending with the 2 men kissing. OK, now we’re back to the color version of the play in progress where the 5 teens (all of whom are quite intelligent) engage in a memory game where they sit in a circle, each one adds a name to the ongoing flow all of them are expected to remember even as names pile up; then we see Augie and Midge talking across the small space between their small cabins as she presents a short scene for him, ending with dropping her robe so he can see her in the nude through her window. By this time, Augie’s told his kids about Mom so the girls want to bury the Tupperware bowl there in the desert, but Stanley wants to take it to his home near a golf course for a proper burial; the 5 honored teens have now gotten their awards with the whole group down in the crater at night where Dr. Hickenlooper (Tilda Swinton) wants everyone to observe some distant lights from the cosmos (although they all have to put cardboard boxes over their heads for proper viewing), when suddenly a spaceship descends into the crater, with a tall, thin alien (Jeff Goldblum, though there’s nothing recognizable about him) taking a ladder down to the surface, where he removes a chunk (or maybe all that’s left) of the long-ago meteorite, then flies away again.
***The family surname probably refers to the professional-cinematic-device most used for editing actual strips of celluloid in the bygone hands-on days before computer editing had become the norm.
Once again, the TV play’s interrupted as we’re back to a B&W scene where we meet the director of the play, Schubert Green (Adrien Brody), then return to the play where Gen. Gibson’s informed Washington, D.C. about the alien so the President orders a complete quarantine of the Asteroid City area, although with no public information about what happened there, nor can the detainees make any contact with the outside world. Pushed together for an indefinite time, connections begin to develop between Augie and Midge, Woodrow and Dinah, June and a cowboy singer, Montana (Rupert Friend), whose band was brought in to entertain at the ceremony. Finally, Ricky (Ethan Josh Lee), one of the teen-award-winners, manages to get access to the pay phone, calls his school newspaper about the alien event, so it’s quickly known internationally. The angry general’s about to lift the quarantine when the alien comes back, returns the meteorite fragment to the crater, leaves again, so the quarantine stays in place, bringing about a revolt from the incarcerated inhabitants, who defeat their military keepers, leading to an influx of our curious public (but no more alien visits).
Another interruption comes as we’re in a B&W scene where actor Hall leaves the play’s stage (although he’s still on that same small one containing the vast desert vista [?], with an audience) to seek out director Green, telling him he doesn’t understand his role, thinks he’s not doing it right, only to be told to keep moving forward with it, not to worry (we have to assume this occurred during the play’s actual run in a Broadway-type theatre rather than the TV theatre in that Hall’s been playing this role long before it became a TV event), but he keeps walking (as the stage grows larger) through a long panning shot (there are several of them here) until he comes out onto a small balcony overlooking an alley; on the other side, also on a balcony, is a female actor (Margo Robbie) who was originally supposed to play his (now dead) wife in 1 scene, but it was cut. Hall doesn’t seem to remember it so “the wife” recites all the lines for him. ⇒Then we return to the narrator who tells us Earp died during the first 6 months of the play’s run, followed by yet another flashback scene where Earp, Green, and famed acting teacher Saltzburg Keitel (Willem Dafoe) are now speaking to an audience of acting students who begin to chant “You can’t wake up if you don’t fall asleep,” with most of the play’s actors cast from within this group, including Mercedes Ford (Johansson) as Midge. Back to the TV play, where all except Augie’s family have left; Woodrow got the scholarship given to only 1 of the award-winners; Stanley agrees to bury the Tupperware in Asteroid City to pacify the Steenbeck girls; Midge has given her address to Augie; credits then roll over the desert backdrop.⇐
So What? Yes, I realize I’ve gone on forever with the plot details of this most-unusual-film, but given how strange it is I felt that—especially for those of you who haven’t yet seen Asteroid City or don’t plan to—such extensive recitation of this wacky narrative is necessary to give you a proper sense (notice I didn’t say “allow you to make sense”: that might be asking too much) of what goes on here because it’s quite a challenge to sort it all out when you’re watching it. In fact, if you’ll take the time to see this video (24:08 [ad interrupts at 17:50]) from the Mort’s Garage site you’ll find an equally-extended-argument that you should watch this film twice (as he’s done) to be able to fully appreciate it as “a poetic meditation on the meaning of life” (a quote from some review, not his original assessment) because he sees it as being in the same vein as Holocaust survivor (Auschwitz no less; Nina and I visited there about 13 years ago, an extremely brutal and sobering experience) Victor Frankl’s psychiatric-life-lessons and famous boo known as Man’s Search for Meaning (1946).
I don’t know anything about Mort (except he notes the 3 Steenbeck girls in the film are actually his daughters, so I guess he’s Mort Faris, but a Google search turned up only Mark Faris, whom you might be interested in if you need a real estate agent in Simcoe County, Ontario, Canada [just north of Toronto—totally irrelevant to this review yet in keeping with the spirit of Anderson’s film]), but he’s truly enthusiastic about what’s he’s seen on screen here, which he says is fundamentally about grief (with the quarantine referring to COVID-19, which forced the cast to work closely together in isolated circumstances, was responsible for dropping Bill Murray from the film who did finally join the group in Spain but had been replaced by Steve Carell as the local motel manager when shooting began) so that the chant is about sinking into your grief (accepting it, as if sleeping) then coming out of it (“waking up”); Mort (I guess) further speculates about how this story is focused on not only the play's actions but also on the actors who bring it to life, with the insight that we’re all actors in our own lives. (Hmm, where have I heard that concept before? I don’t think it was from story concoctors Anderson and Roman Coppola/scriptwriter Anderson; maybe it was a guy in Renaissance England in some play called As You Like It, whaddya think, Mort? [Of course that English guy also said “Brevity is the soul of wit”—Hamlet {1599-1601}—so I probably shouldn’t be quoting him so much.])
Whether you might agree with Mort’s interpretation or not (he swears he got no insights from Anderson or Coppola, despite his daughters [effectively] being part of the production [they’re quite charming in their brief scenes]), I'll agree with anyone (there have been many) who say if you like Anderson’s films (where you’ll find things to celebrate—Rushmore [1998], The Royal Tenenbaums [2001], Fantastic Mr. Fox [2010]—or maybe argue about—The Darjeeling Limited [2007], The Grand Budapest Hotel [2014; review in our April 3, 2014 posting], Isle of Dogs [2018; review in our April 5, 2018 posting]) you’ll likely be fascinated with Asteroid City, whereas if you don’t care for his work or don’t know much about him you probably won’t find a lot to celebrate with his latest endeavor. I, however, experienced Asteroid City as marvelously weird, unpredictable, delightfully cast with lots of familiar faces even in minor roles, and an intriguing (if not easy to interpret upon first viewing) exploration of the methods by which art—especially that of the theatre—comes together even when it may seem to be spinning apart. And, while I can’t comment much on Barbie (Greta Gerwig) yet until I see it (when crowds ease off from that monstrous opening [$162 million domestically {U.S.-Canada}, $356.3 million worldwide]), Asteroid City may rival it somewhat in terms of a colorful palette and intriguing visuals if you might find those qualities any reason to explore it (or Barbie) further. It’s not an easy film to even just try to casually flow along with due to those B&W interruptions, but if you’re willing to explore something off the beaten path, this could well be a good opportunity for you.
Bottom Line Final Comments: Asteroid City’s been around for about 6 weeks now (opened domestically on June 16, 2023 in only 6 theaters, then made its way to a maximum of 1,901 after that), but hasn’t had much of a box-office impact with only $27.3 million domestic gross, $44.6 million globally; you can still find it in 294 venues, yet it’s disappearing fast so if you do want to check it out your best option at this point is likely to be streaming on Amazon Prime Video, Apple TV+, Vudu, and other platforms, although that $19.99 rental fee might give you pause if the various descriptions of this oddball offering seem a bit pricy to justify a curious look. The CCAL won’t be a clear help either as the Rotten Tomatoes positive reviews are just at 74%, while the Metacritic average score is the same for a (radical) change, also 74%. The Observer’s Rex Reed minces no words: “[…] Anderson [is] the preposterously overrated writer-director who churns out the kind of whimsical cinematic jabberwocky that appeals to millennial movie audiences that applaud anything they don’t understand. They call him visionary, which gives new meaning to the old word pretentious. Still, I go to each new Wes Anderson concoction determined to give it a fair shake, and I always end up in more agony than it’s worth […] it is enigmatic, artificial, infuriatingly self-indulgent and irrevocably pointless.” Get the picture? (Well, not this picture, in Mr. Reed’s opinion.)
For a completely different point of view, I’ll turn to the San Francisco Chronicle’s Mick LaSalle (a local guy for me, whom I might disagree with but am glad to showcase when we’re on the same wavelength): “The purest distillation of what this director brings to cinema, it’s beautiful to look at, surreal, nostalgic and funny in a weird, distanced way. It feels as if Anderson is making up the movie as he goes along, like he has no idea where he’s heading from one scene to the next. Normally, that would lead a director into self-indulgence, but Anderson finds a way to make every scene interesting. […] Often the most exalted of filmmakers - like Terrence Malick, Ingmar Bergman and Alfred Hitchcock - have the ability to communicate their consciousness, so that you get the feeling that you’re inside their head, or they’re inside yours. Anderson has come close to doing that before, but this time he really does it. [¶] For that reason, ‘Asteroid City’ is his best movie.” Maybe I won’t go as far as LaSalle (I still have fondness for The Royal Tenenbaums), but I certainly enjoyed Asteroid City more than most anything else I’ve seen this year, possibly just because it’s so quirky, so unexpected as it moves through situations. (To be fair, though, my wife, Nina—a woman of usual openness to all things cinematic—declined to even finish … City’s last half-hour ["too confusing"] nor has she yet decided about reading Mort’s defense of the film [I’ll see later if she deals with that or not] so I think she’d certainly be in your corner if your attitude toward this Anderson offering is just “Why bother?”)
As you might know (or, if not, stick around and become a regular Two Guys reader), my reviews normally finish with some form of a Musical Metaphor to take one last look at the subject under consideration from an aural rather than purely verbal (with photos of course) perspective, so for Asteroid City I’ll turn to The Beatles' (probably all John Lennon, though) “Strawberry Fields Forever” (on the U.S. version of the 1967 Magical Mystery Tour album; the … Tour tunes were just on an EP version in Britain with “… Fields” as a single paired with Paul McCartney’s “Penny Lane”) at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HtUH9z_Oey8 (an early version of true music video), chosen because as a pop song it’s as unconventional as this film, open to all sorts of interpretation (“Nothing is real / And nothing to get hung about […] Always, no, sometimes, think it’s me / But you know, I know when it’s a dream /I think I know, I mean – er – yes, but it’s all wrong / That is, I think I disagree”) although it’s merely inspired by a Salvation Army children’s home in Liverpool. However, given that I’m open to Mort’s explanation of Asteroid City as a search for life’s meaning (and the convoluted paths we may take to find it), I’ll toss in another Metaphor, a quasi-Beatles one, George Harrison’s “What Is Life” (from his 1970 solo debut album All Things Must Pass after The Beatles breakup) at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fiH9edd25Bc (a video made by Brandon Moore, Oakland, CA, winner of a contest by Olivia [widow] and Dhani [son] Harrison, features San Francisco Ballet dancers Emma Rubinowitz and Esteban Hernandez, filmed in the San Francisco Presidio) where he explores: “What I feel, I can’t say / But my love is there for you anytime of day / But if it’s not love that you need / Then I’ll try my best to make everything succeed.” Maybe you’d rather listen to these albums than watching this movie (although you could do both), but if you’re willing to risk those 20 bucks on seeing how it works out in practice, I (along with LaSalle) encourage you to do so.
SHORT TAKES
Here’s the trailer:
I had intended to review only 1 film this week, but then some extra time slipped in so I’ll add some quick comments on this sports documentary (no Spoiler alert here because everything in it is either known fact, archival footage, or the result of recent interviews, mostly about past events; however, my originally-chosen-title doesn’t connect that much with … Underrated, but I kept it as is anyway because it speaks so appropriately to Asteroid City so just bear with me). Certainly one reason that Nina and I are interested in this biopic is that we’ve been watching Curry lead the Golden State Warriors National Basketball Association team (first in Oakland, then to a costly new arena in San Francisco) for most of the last 9 years (slacked off in our viewing when Steph and others were injured, resulting in a horrible season during that stretch, although they bounced back quite well), so it was useful to see so much video of him in his college years/early NBA career when he had to work through his own version of “You can’t wake up if you don’t fall asleep,” going from a guy who was almost dismissed in his NBA draft year as not worth the investment as he was too short (although he’s 6’ 2”), too skinny (well, he has added some notable extra muscle recently), reflecting his even-earlier-years when he wasn’t considered all that likely for a high-school squad either; yet, despite all of this early adversity he kept working at his craft, finding ways to elude bigger, taller opponents, and bringing new attention to his success with the longer-distance-3-point-shot (the film opens with the 2021 night in NYC when he set the NBA record for most 3-pointers, one he just keeps adding onto).
You get plenty of Curry in this film with his present-day-thoughts for the camera plus voiceover regarding some of the rest of what we see; a little bit of interviews with Dad Dell, Mom Sonya, and wife Ayesha; a good bit of reminiscence from his Davidson College (Davidson, NC) coach Bob McKillop, and a few others; but you know this is all about Steph when there’s barely mention of his All-Star/other-future-Hall of Famers-teammates Klay Thompson, Draymond Green, Kevin Durant or current Warriors Head Coach Steve Kerr (here’s a 12:22 video with him [ad interrupts at 4:20]), despite the also-necessary-contributions of those folks in the Warriors winning the NBA title 4 times in the last 9 years, making it to the Finals twice more in that span. Not that Curry presents himself or is made to look like the most outstanding star on the planet, but this doc stresses how he overcame adversity, rejection, and self-doubt to contribute mightily to Davidson’s appearances in the NCAA postseason (although lost in the first round in 2007, then again in the 2008 Elite 8), followed by the 4 NBA titles, his honor twice as the league’s Most Valuable Player (by unanimous vote the second time, a never-before-achievement), and his Finals MVP honor upon the Warriors' 2022 title victory.
Curry was willing to be the focus of this film, though, for whatever it could do to help anyone—kids to adults—who are underrated/undervalued/overlooked overcome such social dismissals. There’s also the encouragement he gives to students to persevere in that in 2022 he finally finished his undergrad Sociology degree after having left in his senior year at Davidson for the 2009 NBA draft. However, maybe it’s because I’ve seen/read so much about him for a near-decade that I don’t feel there are any great insights here, just a lot of college footage, not so much on NBA games (the Kerr video noted above makes up for some of that) so I’m hesitant (maybe too much so) in my rating. Still, for a doc that’s supposed to be about how Curry was undervalued we see a lot on screen here about his triumphs even in those years, which you can get extensively-more-details on at this site. Nevertheless, this film is free to Apple TV+ subscribers, so if you are one (or want to use a 7-day-free-trial or pay $6.99 for at least 1 month) consider checking it out, with uneven agreement from the CCAL, as the RT positives are 86% but the MC score is 69%. I’ll leave with the Musical Metaphor of the Contours’ “Do You Love Me” (written by Motown’s Barry Gordy Jr., on the 1962 Do You Love Me (Now That I can Dance) album at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=loHOhxsglKI for all the obvious reasons based on the song’s catchy lyrics if you'll just shift “dance” into basketball prowess.
Related Links Which You Might Find Interesting:
(1) How actors' strike talks broke down; (2) Early thoughts on 2024 Best Picture Oscar race.
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