“In order to show you how a big symphony orchestra is put together, Benjamin Britten has written a big piece of music, which is made up of smaller pieces that show you all the separate parts of the orchestra.” As these words come from a small record player in the Bishop household, members of the family are introduced in Wes Anderson’s 2012 film, Moonrise Kingdom. This focus on composition is all too fitting for Anderson, whose films are defined by a composed, iconic appearance. 

Among visual artists today, Wes Anderson undoubtedly holds the most recognizable style, often being parodied and recreated. In a world where film auteurs fall limply to the sides of their inspirations, Anderson remains a true original. Predicated on square compositions, saturated colors, and decorous set design, Anderson creates a distinct world with the help of consistent collaborators. This strict coherence to form is something to be marveled at in a medium where indulgent technicalities can get the best of filmmakers. Anderson’s dedication to this blueprint allows him to focus on storytelling and understand that he has something to fall back on. 

Anderson recognizes storytelling as absurd and plays into that fact, seeking at every moment to stop making sense. Amidst this calamity, Anderson’s characters become his children. This is especially true of the adults, who haven’t a clue of anything and express themselves abashedly. The children strongly contrast this, showing passion, knowledge beyond their years, and a general lust for life. Despite the straightforward nature of the film’s photography, there is a lovingness to Kingdom’s portrayal of its characters. 

Anderson has lived in the worlds of these children and understands that there is no good reason to grow up. By situating the story around children, Kingdom is able to dive into the joy of experience. The film follows the adventures of a group of Khaki Scouts, the balmy Bishop family, and two young lovers, Sam and Suzy, as they escape their roots and explore New Penzance island, their home. The springy locale of this film is naturalistic yet manufactured, with only our characters seeming to inhabit the world. The island is peppered with picturesque coves and ornery island homes through roadless woods. Each element of the island has a purpose for the characters in the story; no time is wasted on extraneous events. It is important to emphasize that this concentration on story is something Anderson actively strives for. By containing our characters and worlds, the story accepts itself as fiction and envelops itself deeper into the realm of fairytale. 

As the lovers run along, they are chased by their respective families. Both of these characters struggle with their isolation from society and carry a fair amount of baggage, mentally and physically. Suzy brings books and records while Sam packs his Scouting necessities. The two chicken scratch at what they believe to be adulthood: Sam plays a gruff cowboy and Suzy holds a passion for the arts. This emulation of adulthood is endearing and heartfelt, and allows for some of the greatest moments in the film, where the characters come to life. This dichotomy between emulating a romanticized reality while running away from it can be seen as a picture of Anderson’s style, so actively creating relatable characters and dropping them in fantastic stories. 

Kingdom consistently bubbles to the surface, teasing death as being something right around the corner. The gravity of these thematics only makes the actors’ performances more nuanced; seeing Bruce Willis’s or Ed Norton’s character grapple with serious emotions while trapped in Anderson’s box puts the performances in a new, absurd dimension. This consistent playfulness allows for a smooth tonal flow in Kingdom, keeping everything in line. The film elicits a clear emotion which can be understood, forming a coherent, enjoyable fairytale. 

By sticking to self made guidelines, writing characters with joy and compassion, Wes Anderson’s films stand as bonded works of fiction that have their own voice. This allows for audiences to reflect themselves off of the stories, relating to the characters issues and absorbing the bouncy writing. Like composing an orchestra, Anderson heightens and lowers to create a distinct feeling. Kingdom is a film which exemplifies this, proving Anderson a master filmmaker. 

Written by: Rory Donohue

Art by: Mikael Byrd | Instagram