Great and imaginative, with an eminent sensitiveness regarding the use of pre-recorded music. It's surprising to hear so much Benjamin Britten in a film, and there is a fine wit when the children during the end titles handle Alexandre Desplat's original score in the same didactic way like Britten handles Purcell's theme in his "Young Person's Guide to the Orchestra".
Moonrise Kingdom is a film that could only have been made by Wes Anderson. The quirky characters are displayed through the fantastic cinematography, with a habit of framing shots as parallel, the unnatural world feels alive yet separate from our own. The open framing of many of the shots is fitting given how they are kids and much of the world not only feels large but also display how empty their island setting
Anderson wants to tell human stories, but his approach is dehumanising. His aesthetic reduces characters to clockwork objects; actions & consequences pre-programmed to facilitate his particular system. While technique is enviable, it robs the work of life & spontaneity. It expects the audience to fall in love with its cutesy characters & quirky narrative based on a series of stylistic fetishes, but not actual depth.
Wes Anderson has a loyal, devoted fanbase with built-in expectations of what a Wes Anderson film should be. Moonrise Kingdom delivers, but the audience it seeks to connect with goes beyond fandom or his signature whimsy; it's a film about children desperately clinging to each other to hold onto that kind of love so pure and simple that only the innocent can feel it. Hopeless romantics will find a home in this film.
Maybe I'm becoming a curmudgeon. My least favourite Wes Anderson. Do I resent these clean-cut troubled kids their happy endings? Or the audiences their opportunity to feel self-satisfied for going through it "with them"? (Is that cynical?) Or maybe it's a little too earnest; like he's working out unmet infant-needs on screen (omg I'm a terrible person). It just sort of... grated. Obvs. cute bits, but... overall: meh.
Mais um filme riquinho de Wes Anderson, mas desta feita, como em Rushmore, os adolescentes têm idade de adolescente, e aí seus vícios de mimo e melancolia vêem-se sinceros e apropriados. É uma recordação de infância, hinos corais, luz, chuva, árvores, e um amor eterno. Quem me dera a mim