Fashion – Partial Review

This is basically a defense of Wes Anderson, which is a position I’d never dreamed I would be in 10 years ago.

Wes Anderson, above all else, is an aesthete and his films are extensions of his personal style. I’ve come to terms with his output being more about presentation than what is presented. And in fact, only when we stop protesting what he isn’t and address what he is, can we actually criticize him.

Though there is nothing overly new or rich about the characters, story, or themes in Wes Anderson’s Isle of Dogs, from an animation perspective alone this film is worth seeing. Anderson creatively synthesizes cutting edge stop-motion animation with Japanese woodblock print imagery, kabuki and bunraku theater influences to create images and sequences that are easily some of the best in his œuvre, and some of the best in animation.

Buried in Anderson’s style fixations is his ethos of individualism, personal duty, social civics, and common morals. Again, he’s not treading new thematic or psychological ground, but he is finding new, unique and interesting ways to express himself. That is more than most artists ever achieve. In his commitment to this ethos, and as an auteur with substance, I see much more in common between Anderson and Robert Bresson or Quentin Tarantino, than I do Michael Bay.

Now for the cultural appropriation question, for which this film has drawn much ire. Overall, I found this film’s approach to be well-meaning and indeed respectful of Japanese culture. The lengths to which Anderson goes to carefully emulate Japanese theater, woodblock printing and cinema speaks volumes. I liken this film more to his masterwork The Grand Budapest Hotel than The Darjeeling Limited. The latter film renders the Indian subcontinent as a colorful, exotic backdrop for white man-child angst, while the former is an example of a film that intelligently and creatively engages with a foreign culture. In fact, I would like to see more filmmakers attempt what Anderson is doing here. And finally, as a challenge for any criticisms, I think most of the claims of foul play could (and would) still be argued even if Anderson had made the opposite choices. This begs the question, is what is being criticized actually the problem, or is the problem that people shouldn’t create artistic projects that engage with cultures foreign to the artist. Obviously there is a line for cultural appropriation, but I do not think this film approaches it.

All of this is to say that I found Isle of Dogs to be a charmingly slight, or slightly charming, film and a must-see for animation fans. Oddly, my biggest complaint with it is that there are not nearly enough dogs in it!

In the Fall of 2012, my late Grandma Lydia and my father came to visit me in college at SMU. My Grandma brought with her several copies of a magazine called The New Yorker. I was vaguely familiar with this magazine, but had never actually held a copy before that point. On one of those afternoons, resting in their hotel room before heading out for the next activity, I eyed one she had left on the couch. Enticed by its colorful cover design, I picked it up, slumped in a chair and began to flip through it; within minutes I knew this was something I needed.

It was the September 10, 2012 Fashion issue. I really only turned the pages, reading little bits here and there, but I knew. In that issue, as in all of them, there were endless descriptions of New York City’s surplus of cultural events, trendy political commentary, personal essays by famous writers, long form journalism, long form culture articles, short fiction, poetry, cartoons and reviews of what at that time seemed like everything. My grandmother, noticing the glint in my eye, urged me to keep that issue. In the days that followed, I read that magazine from cover to cover, a rarity for anyone familiar with it. My thirst unquenched, I then signed up for the trial subscription. And when that was finished, I became a yearly paying subscriber which has been the case for the last 5 years. In that time, I’ve received the magazine weekly, devouring and struggling to keep up with that relentless pile, often bringing my own stacks of back issues on vacations and holidays.

As of April 9th, 2018, I am no longer a subscriber. Without going into detail as to why, I instead want to use this space to reflect. The magazine was, without a doubt, one of the integral catalysts for my broader intellectual curiosity late in college. I can honestly say I wouldn’t be who I am today without it. Despite any criticisms that have led me to this decision, it is more true to say that my leaving the The New Yorker is a signifier of just how influential it has been. Perhaps I will be a subscriber again one day, and I will still be loosely following it online (within the 10 free articles a month constraint). But for now, a heartfelt goodbye and thank you to The New Yorker.