Asteroid City

We are quickly approaching the anniversary of me nearly finding my long-lost British wife! It was my first night in Vancouver B.C. and this random couple, whom I just met for two minutes mind you, said to me, “Yo! We have the perfect girl for you!” I’m sorry, what? You’ve known me for two minutes and already you’re trying to set me up with someone? Is she Eastern European and chained in a basement somewhere? Is this some Eyes Wide Shut nonsense that you’re going to use to blackmail me so I’m forever indebted to some Canadian Mountie? I’m a Black man in America, I can never be a spy for Canada. People suspect me of nefarious activities constantly! There’s no way this will work!

But to my surprise, this woman with the most incredible lips I’ve ever seen in my life walks around the corner. And once she flipped her high-end Pantene induced flowing hair (or whatever women use) and spoke in that amazing British accent of hers, I was done for! But, as I tend to do, I of course told her some lame joke and she was immediately turned off. I spent the rest of the night convincing her that I wasn’t a moron. And, thankfully for me, the house band playing that night played a Childish Gambino cover. This led to us getting on the dance floor and that’s when she was finally convinced.

I then was somehow able to convince her to come back to my hotel with me but, on the walk there, we ran across these two skateboarding miscreants. I knew they were trouble upon first glance and I should’ve immediately stopped and gotten us an Uber, but by the time I decided on this strategy they noticed us and asked us if we wanted to smoke some weed with them. She got all excited as apparently she hadn’t smoked weed in years. So, she runs over to take a few puffs. I tried to slip these little devils a few Canadian coins to go away but it was too late, the damage had already been done.

The weed was too strong for her and I could immediately tell something was off. She told me that the weed hit differently than she thought it would and that she had to go home right away. And before I could even open my mouth, she pecked me on my cheek, hopped in an Uber, and was gone forever! I turned to look at the Avril Lavigne wannabes and all they could do was shrug their shoulders and say, “Sorry, eh!”

If I weren’t already indebted to the local Mountie I would’ve knocked them both out right then and there but alas, I was left to walk to my hotel alone. And as I took that frustratingly long walk back to solitude, I couldn’t help but wonder, “Was I past my prime? Am I too old for the game? What the hell is wrong with me? Maybe it’s time for me to get out!”

And I truly believe that these are the very questions Wes Anderson should be asking himself today. Have you seen his last few films? He’s had a total of 3 good ones in the past 20 years. Seriously, look it up; 3 total films that you’d actually watch again. And don’t get me wrong, I used to love his work. Hell, I dressed up as Pele Dos Santos (Seu Jorge) from The Life Aquatic for Halloween and have been to many Wes Anderson themed parties over the years. But man, I nearly fell asleep during The French Dispatch, and the poor couple next to me were full on snoring during it. And Isle of Dogs was entertaining for about 20 minutes, but after a while, old white men talking in proper English can only work for so long; I eventually need a story I actually care about.

It's like he’s become the white version of Tyler Perry. He just chooses, as of late anyway, the worst of white people and decides to tell their boring ass stories. And yes, I know that racist, closed-minded whites are the worst of white people but at least they drink cheap beer and write songs that can be played in strip clubs. The people he’s writing about have literally nothing of interest going on in their lives. And I know that I usually cannot relate to white people in the first place but even the white people I know cant relate to these characters.

And sadly, that trend continued in Asteroid City. This story, if you can call it that, takes place in some random small town in the desert that resembles Roswell, New Mexico. Its only claim to fame is the fact that an asteroid from outer space landed there years ago. And each year they invite 5 young aspiring scientists or inventors to showcase their latest inventions in hopes of winning the grand prize and some low-level recognition. People come from all over to participate and it’s an annual celebration of the rock that landed from outer space.

And during this celebration, you meet Augie Steenbeck (Jason Schwartzman) who is driving his son and three daughters to Asteroid City so that his nerdy and awkward son can participate in the competition. His car breaks down on arrival and while they way for it to be fixed, you learn that Augie’s wife recently died after a long battle with some serious illness. And as he’s trying to juggle everything that’s happening in his life, he meets a world-famous actress in Midge Campbell (Scarlett Johansson) who has been married three or four times herself and also shares in his struggle with dealing major life changes. She’s in Asteroid City preparing for her next role as her daughter is also a part of this weird celebration.

But trust me when I say that how I described it sounds way sweeter than it actually is. Neither of them seems to be too broken up about their past spouses and Augie has even thought about leaving his children behind. And while you process everything I just said, you’re also introduced to a host of other irrelevant characters who do or say nothing remotely interesting themselves. There’s a random group of church kids on a field trip, there’s a cowboy country and western band who also happen to be nearby, and there are the people who are in charge of the festival; whose lives seemingly revolve around it and nothing else.

But here’s the kicker, none of this is really happening because what you are witnessing is an adaption of a play written by Conrad Earp (Ed Norton). But you’re not watching the play itself, just some dude (Bryan Cranston) talking about the play as if it’s a real-life event. If none of that makes sense, it’s because it doesn’t. What matters is, what you’re seeing isn’t even a real story. So, Wes Anderson goes out of his way to tell you that what you’re watching means nothing, has no connection to reality, and has no hidden moral message of any kind in it. You’re just wasting $15 of 90+ minutes of your time to look at beautiful an talented people waste their beauty and talent on complete nonsense.

But hey, if you like to see pretty colors and beautiful cinematography, by all means, smoke some of that strong Canadian weed, eat some mushrooms, and go have a ball watching this complete waste of $25 million.

I give this movie a rating of WACK!