A television host (Bryan Cranston) introduces us to the idea that "Asteroid City" is, in fact, a play created by writer Conrad Earp (Edward Norton) in 1955. He does so with a nesting-doll structure for the artifice of his narrative. Asteroid City throws several paradigm shifts of post-World War II America-the atomic age, Method acting, television-into a blender, and emerges with typically hilarious and poignant study of how hard it is to pivot to a new reality. He tells stories about people who have set up regimented, carefully-composed lives for themselves, dealing with the introduction of chaotic change to their lives: the celebrated oceanographer facing the possible end of his career in The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou the family and community members reacting to impetuous young love in Moonrise Kingdom the meticulous concierge facing encroaching fascism in The Grand Budapest Hotel. That's not to say that it's a defensive, "I am so sincere and heartfelt" act of meta-filmmaking, but more that it doubles down what his films have almost always been about. I'll simplify my own response to these complaints with a single word-"bollocks"-before turning to the possibility that Asteroid City is, at least in small part, Anderson's own response to them. Every time a new Wes Anderson movie emerges, it feels like we have to re-litigate the same arguments about his work: that it's too precious and sterile, that it's all about quirky and mannered performances, that it lacks heart and soul.
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