A number of magnificent auteurs broke out in the scene at the start of the 21st century. Blockbuster king Christopher Nolan has been dizzying and dazzling audiences since his debut, “Memento,” in 2000. Horror-turned-social-commentary powerhouse Bong Joon Ho finally got people paying attention with “Parasite,” but he has been documenting the foibles of capitalism since “Snowpiercer.” And then, there’s the science fiction enthusiast Denis Villeneuve (“Dune”), whose subversive films have elevated the idea of what a modern blockbuster movie could be. The greatest of them all, though, may just be a guy who’s obsessed with symmetry.
Wes Anderson’s style has become one of the most easily recognizable (and parodied) in modern cinema. He uses symmetric, centered shots, vibrant color palettes and that iconic yellow text, to create films that feel like they take place inside a dollhouse or diorama.
With the release of his most recent film, “The Phoenecian Scheme,” over the summer, the Film Beat has decided it’s time to decide once and for all which of Anderson films reign supreme. However, despite our fair and democratic system of voting, some writers were shocked, even horrified, to see where their favorite Anderson piece ended up, resulting in both supportive blurbs and violent refutations of our ranking. So, for better or worse, here’s the Michigan Daily’s spectacular, phenomenal and totally-not-subjective Wes Anderson ranking that the world has been waiting for:
— Ben Luu and Isabelle Perraut, Senior Arts Editor and Film Beat Editor
Honorable Mention: “The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar and Three More” (2024)
How does a legendary director evade all the talk about whether he’s too indulgent, too full of himself or too obsessed with his own style? By making a series of shorts in which the artifice, which once decorated his frames, define the formal language of the films, of course!
In the aptly titled “The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar and Three More” — a feature-length compilation of four short films directed by Anderson — the auteur has decided to push his style to near avant-garde experimentation. Gone is dynamic scene blocking or elaborate dialogues that flow into one another; a person standing up straight and reciting directly to the camera drives the narrative. Gone is the slightly robotic affectation of Anderson characters — a cold delivery will do instead.
Indeed, these short films find Anderson once again adapting Roald Dahl stories, but with a disregard for conventional film wisdom. The short films feature characters narrating each line of dialogue with book-like, third-person attributions (“he said,” “she said,” etc.). Cheap-looking, set-like foreground and background elements highlight the artifice of film form — which Anderson seems intent on exploring.
Be it boredom, curiosity or a jab at all the critics, the resulting compilation is wonderfully endearing. Anderson, in acknowledging and playing into the awkwardness of his stilted writing and scene construction as of late, ends up ironically making a digestible film that feels unforced and unencumbered. However, “Asteroid City,” for all its thematic import about emotional distance, is still emotionally distant — a conundrum which this series manages to side-step by not having any emotional depth at all. Relying heavily on visuals and Dahl’s original texts, “Henry Sugar and Three More” is a surprising highlight in Anderson’s late career.
Senior Arts Editor Ben Luu can be reached at benllv@umich.edu.
- “The French Dispatch” (2021)
I hate to say it, but “The French Dispatch” represents the worst of Anderson’s style. In the film, the cracks in his iconic style become deep and unavoidable. His work appears as a cumbersome parody of itself, harming the overarching story rather than supporting it. His style has lost a sense of genuineness, instead feeling campy and akin to the recent social media trend of people “Wes Anderson-ifying” their lives. It’s overly complicated, full of rapid cuts and contains intensely obnoxious symmetry, building an elaborate, whimsical aesthetic that distracts from the actual story. It’s a beautiful and vibrantly colored mess.
The film is further burdened by an unnecessarily large ensemble cast that collapses under its own weight. Anderson weaves so many threads together that they get tangled. It seems that he tried to write a story to ensure he’d be able to fit all of his collaborators (and some newcomers) into one film. The narrative suffers as a result of this overly complex structure. Characters are underdeveloped and emotionally removed, storylines are half-baked and the pacing never seems to even out.
It’s no coincidence that this was one of the Film Beat’s few unanimously agreed-upon rankings. It’s beautiful, but hollow. It’s Anderson’s homage to his own style. Like an absent-minded look of admiration in a mirror, “The French Dispatch” is the perfect reflection of all of Anderson’s flaws as a filmmaker.
Film Beat Editor Isabelle Perraut can be reached at iperraut@umich.edu.
- “Asteroid City” (2023)
Late-style Anderson (that is, everything since “The French Dispatch”) has its fair share of detractors. Anderson’s success and army of cinephile fans has transformed his style into a recognizable trademark and source of endless parody. Rather than departing from his style, the filmmaker leaned into it even further, stretching his visual language to its formal and emotional limits. No film of his epitomizes this phenomenon more than “Asteroid City.” The film is a play within a documentary within a movie; its actors are actors playing characters turned actors once again. Critics have decried the film with a menagerie of insults: it’s a self-parody, cold, distant or simply insists upon itself.
However, I write this blurb as an impassioned defense of “Asteroid City,” as my well-intentioned yet misguided Film Beat brethren exile it to this undeserved subaltern position. Yes, it is true that “Asteroid City” reflects the most stylized mise-en-scène of any of his films. The artificial set of the diegetic play makes the film’s aesthetic further from the real world than his have ever been. But the fundamental motivating force behind criticism of “Asteroid City” — that Anderson’s style overshadows any semblance of emotional core — is missing the point. The emotional distance between audience and character is more of an intentional feature than a bug; by centering the story around artists making a work of art they don’t understand, “Asteroid City” is Anderson questioning his own commitment to craft. This self-analysis of artistry and meaning makes it one of Anderson’s most personal. What does the play mean? What’s up with that alien? Does any of this matter? Anderson doesn’t pretend to know the answer to any of these questions, but he keeps on asking. “Asteroid City” may have its haters, but I find it to be one of Anderson’s most self-aware and emotionally resonant films to date.
Daily Arts Writer Will Cooper can be reached at wcoop@umich.edu.
- “The Phoenician Scheme” (2025)
There are plenty of reasons why “The Phoenician Scheme” ranked this low. For starters, it’s Anderson’s most recent release, so it’s possible that many of my fellow Film Beat writers have not gotten around to seeing it. It’s also possible that people don’t rock with late-stage Anderson and his overt stylization. Or maybe people are tired of his aesthetic. Whatever the reason may be, I simply do not care — “The Phoenician Scheme” is great, and deserves to be in the upper echelon of his films. Despite being in the later part of his career, “The Phoenician Scheme” is very much a return to form for Anderson. He departs from ensemble works to revisit a formula that has worked for him time and time again: narratives centered around family. As with many of his films, especially his recent work, Anderson has been criticized for prioritizing “style over substance,” but this simply isn’t the case here. Sure, his aesthetics have been dialed up a notch, but the emotional core — the father-daughter relationship — is what defines the film. Beneath the schemes, assassination attempts and espionage, the film is really about a father’s struggle to balance his work life and personal life. It seems to serve as a reflection for Anderson on managing the roles of both a working director and a parent, resulting in one of the most beautiful narratives in his filmography. As I noted in my review of the film, “The Phoenician Scheme” is Anderson at his most personal, and that’s what makes it one of his best.
Daily Arts Writer JC Rafal can be reached at rafaljc@umich.edu
- “The Darjeeling Limited” (2007)
Nine out of twelve … wow. Surprisingly, this was my number one Anderson film. I thought my number one would be “The Grand Budapest Hotel” or “Asteroid City” (look, I really liked seeing Anderson get formally experimental), but as I crossed out more and more titles to find my winner, I realized I couldn’t let go of “The Darjeeling Limited.”
The key to what makes “The Darjeeling Limited” special is a deviation from the script common to Anderson. Anderson’s films — take “The Royal Tenenbaums,” for example — tend to focus on a group’s bond becoming tighter over the course of a film. “The Darjeeling Limited” subverts this expectation. Rather than reconnecting with their mother, Patricia (Anjelica Huston, “The Addams Family”), the brothers are truly orphaned at the end of the film; after losing their father, their mother chooses again to take off in the night, leaving the brothers to return stateside from India alone.
The brothers — the original family we began with — certainly grow closer. But unlike Anderson’s other films, the bonding ends there. The film builds to a reunion that doesn’t really happen. It’s a bittersweet ending, like other Anderson films, but a less fantastic and more challenging one. The cycle isn’t broken, people don’t change themselves after decades of living a certain way and life goes on. The brothers come to accept their mother for who she is, not love her for who she isn’t. It’s that maturity that’s kept “The Darjeeling Limited” in my heart for so long.
Daily Arts Writer Max Resch can be reached at nataljo@umich.edu.
- “Bottle Rocket” (1996)
As far as debuts go, Anderson’s “Bottle Rocket” is a solid movie. However, it makes sense that among his other movies, it ranks in the high end of the bottom tier. In “Bottle Rocket,” you can see the beginnings of the unique style that he will become famous for, but he hasn’t fully fleshed it out yet. I think if someone saw this eccentric and campy film without knowing it was by Anderson, they would notice certain similarities, but wouldn’t be able to pinpoint him as the director.
“Bottle Rocket” focuses on the bungled crime sprees of a trio of friends, Dignan, Anthony and Bob, played by Owen Wilson (“Zoolander”), Luke Wilson (“Legally Blonde”) and Robert Musgrave (“Idiocracy”), respectively. Most of Anderson’s movies include a mix of humor and heartfelt emotion from a quirky cast of characters, and while “Bottle Rocket” has moments of hilarity to spare, it doesn’t delve too deep into the emotions of any of the characters.
I think “Bottle Rocket” is most entertaining and useful as a way to see how Anderson has developed with age and experience, and allows for a fuller enjoyment of his later works. On its own, the movie is still worth a watch with the funny, deadpan idiocy of the three friends, but if you’re looking for an Anderson film with a bit more emotional substance, I’d pick a movie higher on the list.
Daily Arts Contributor Maeve McGinn can be reached at maevemcg@umich.edu.
- “Isle of Dogs” (2018)
Despite its praise for having more complex and sophisticated stop motion animation, “Isle of Dogs” ended up lower than “Fantastic Mr. Fox” in our ranking. Instead of driving the story forward with its characters like a typical Anderson film, “Isle of Dogs” focuses on the plot — one that’s loaded with societal commentary.
There’s nothing inherently wrong with experimenting with different storytelling methods, especially one that serves as a metaphor for modern-day politics. While “Isle of Dogs” captivated me with its intricate set design, kept my attention with its diverse soundscape and made me laugh with its dry comedy, it also left me with a sense of unease at how neatly the end was tied together.
“Isle of Dogs” isn’t the type of film to be classified as style over substance, as it still gracefully explored themes of loyalty, friendship and justice through a fictionalized story about dogs and a future-state Japan. However, it did leave me questioning how it tackled nuanced issues like government corruption and prejudice with such simplicity: How was the mayor able to change his mind about a major conspiracy he worked so hard to disseminate over a child’s heartfelt haiku? How was Chief (Bryan Cranston, “Breaking Bad”) convinced to shed his hard-shelled stray dog attitude toward humans after just one bath from Atari (Kuyo Rankin, “Dead Boy Detectives”)?
To shift one’s political ideology and to unpack trauma takes time, and due to the lack of character development, these transformations seemed all too easy to feel real. Even when a character was presented with teary, glossed-over eyes, I didn’t feel that I knew them well enough to empathize with their emotions through the screen.
Dogs are known to be man’s best friend, but I doubt such a deep-rooted relationship could be forged through one little biscuit.
TV Beat Editor Michelle Wu can be reached at michewu@umich.edu.
- “The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou” (2004)
If I dare be so bold, I’ll make a claim: “The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou” is the second-to-last film before Anderson began a campaign of symmetry which would quickly turn into his trademark — to the extent of parody and criticism, even. And if I dare be bolder, “Life Aquatic” is my favorite Anderson film. The film is as loose as “The Darjeeling Limited” and “Rushmore” but with the refined and wacky sensibilities of late Anderson hits like “The Grand Budapest Hotel.”
I’ve always struggled with diagnosing what makes or breaks Anderson movies, and the best conclusion I’ve reached is that his films fall apart when his style limits expression, instead of aiding it, or when he’s using the style to supplement a lackluster story. With “Steve Zissou,” Anderson’s offbeat nature is a wonderful decoration on top of a solid, heartfelt story. Following oceanographer Steve Zissou (Bill Murray, “Groundhog Day”) as he completes one last adventure, the film is part sea-trip, part reflection on old age and part family drama. And I can’t help finding it utterly ridiculous, infectiously so.
Murray delivers an outstanding performance as the washed adventurer, crafting a charming character with a bit of a rugged edge. I love the way Murray no-sells comedic moments with his blank, downtrodden expression. The ensemble, especially the random cameo appearances by Seu Jorge (“Carolina”), adds just that extra layer of charm — of a band getting back together for the last time — that feels both wistful and jovial. It is equally fitting that the soundtrack to such an adventure consists of calm, acoustic David Bowie covers, hammering home a sense of a bygone time.
If you don’t buy into the film’s offbeat nature and triviality, it would make sense why it ranks in the middle of the pack. I, however, do, and I’ll happily enjoy my voyage under the sea with my pal Steve Zissou.
Senior Arts Editor Ben Luu can be reached at benllv@umich.edu.
- “Rushmore” (1998)
As Anderson’s second film, “Rushmore” marked a number of firsts. His first use of static framing and symmetry, his first of many collaborations with Bill Murray and Jason Schwartzman and his first to achieve the balance between emotions and ridiculousness. “Rushmore” marks a transition for the director as he comes into his own style.
“Rushmore” is the rebellious teenager of Anderson’s filmography: loud and unapologetic. Set at the prestigious Rushmore Academy, the film literally follows a rebellious teenager navigating the overpowering ambition and boldness that often get him in trouble. The soundtrack is full of British Invasion rock, embracing the frustrations of being a teenager and the feeling of growing up and changing in a world that seems to be stuck in its ways.
It’s a heartwarming coming-of-age story that walks the fine line between realism, irony and artifice. Parts of the movie are unrealistic and ridiculous, but through his carefully crafted characters and cinematography, Anderson manages to maintain the necessary emotional weight for the film to have an impact.
“Rushmore” isn’t without its flaws. The treatment of the only important female character in this film leaves something to be desired, and it brings up a number of emotional issues that aren’t satisfyingly resolved. “Rushmore” is centered in boyhood. It’s loud, emotional, flawed and not Anderson’s best work. But it’s an excellent second film.
Film Beat Editor Isabelle Perraut can be reached at iperraut@umich.edu.
- “Royal Tenenbaums” (2001)
Wow. The people have voted and the people love “The Royal Tenenbaums.” And I hate to say it, but this is not going to be an agreement blurb. Anderson’s third film is certainly one of his more stylistically subdued films, but what it lacks in aesthetics, it does not make up for in storytelling.
“The Royal Tenenbaums” is your classic drama about a large family with three extraordinary kids. They all have extremely bright futures, until a classic case of gifted kid burnout strikes them all. Every character is aloof in their own odd way which, in moments, can seem charming, but for the majority of the film is off-putting. The story follows the family’s reunion 22 years later, particularly the three children’s experiences returning home and reconciling their childhood successes with their adult failures, the crux of Anderson’s half-fleshed-out message.
The problem I have with “The Royal Tenenbaums” is that alongside its reliance on classic Anderson aesthetics, it also relies on specific character relationships — ones that I don’t particularly like. One of the brothers is in love with his adopted sister and has been since they were kids. Their interactions feel withdrawn, showing little emotion, neither love nor disgust. This is supposed to be the complicated human allure of their characters, but for me, it just didn’t work. This issue is consistent with all the other family members, as no one character gives another the satisfaction of an emotional reaction. By the end, I was tired of reading between the lines, watching withdrawn family members sulk alone and eventually sulk together.
Daily Arts Writer Abigail Weinberg can be reached at weinab@umich.edu.
- “Moonrise Kingdom” (2012)
Anderson’s filmography is not fundamentally romantic. Though if you look close enough, romance is just as much of an identifying characteristic of Anderson’s art as is distinctive camera language, Art Nouveau visual inspirations, strange characters and even stranger speech patterns. Anderson’s films concern themselves with damaged men and women, often the troubled relations between them. There is the carousel of love between Zero (Tony Revolori, “Spiderman: Homecoming”) and Agatha (Saoirse Ronan, “Little Women”) in “The Grand Budapest Hotel,” the ludic and steadfast marriage between Mr. (George Clooney, “ER”) and Mrs. Fox (Meryl Streep, “The Devil Wears Prada” in “Fantastic Mr. Fox” and the romance beyond language between “Bottle Rocket’s” Anthony (Luke Wilson, “Legally Blonde”) and Inez (Lumi Cavazos, “Like Water for Chocolate”). However, the greatest romance of them all belongs to young Suzy Bishop (Kara Hayward, “Manchester by the Sea”) and Sam Shakusky (Jared Gilman, “Paterson”).
“Moonrise Kingdom” is a love story of many love stories. One between Suzy and Sam, another between Captain Sharp (Bruce Willis, “Die Hard”) and Mrs. Bishop (Frances McDormand, “Nomadland”). My favorite of them all, however, is the invisible tenderness and tension between adulthood and childhood. Suzy and Sam flee their homes and journey to an isolated beach they claim and call “Moonrise Kingdom.” It is from this eternal kingdom that they are forcibly torn by the adults they ran from. Adulthood, as it is in nearly every Anderson film, is an ugly presence. The adults of “Moonrise Kingdom” suffer from depression and loneliness, grappling with their envy for the pureness of Suzy and Sam’s love and their hatred for the impurities of their own.
Benjamin Britten’s (“Night Mail”) music is used throughout “Moonrise Kingdom,” evoking the wonder and playfulness of childhood. “Cuckoo!” is perhaps the most effective piece of Britten’s discography used in the film. A children’s choir sings, “In April, I open my bill / In May, I sing night and day / In June, I change my tune / In July, far, far I fly / In August, away! / I must.” “Moonrise Kingdom” suggests that to leave the Kingdom of Childhood is to abandon it forever, a change as inevitable as the change of the seasons. As the sun sets on the Kingdom of Childhood, we cling to its dying light and fear the coolness of its shadow. Like Suzy and Sam, we cling to fantasy — to escapism from what we cannot escape.
Daily Arts Writer Maya Ruder can be reached at mayarud@umich.edu.
- “Fantastic Mr. Fox” (2009)
There’s a wild, restless energy that runs beneath “Fantastic Mr. Fox,” a kind of quiet rebellion that makes it more than just a kids’ movie or an Anderson aesthetic piece. It’s a story about instinct, about the parts of ourselves that crave freedom even when we’ve built lives of comfort. Mr. Fox, voiced with sly wisdom by George Clooney, can’t resist falling back into his stealing, not out of greed, but out of something deeper and harder to define: the need to feel alive.
Every frame of this film has the feeling that it was treated by hand: textured, rough and perhaps a little too real. The stop-motion animation gives everything a tangible warmth, a feeling of a picture book come to life. Anderson populates the world with lovely autumn hues and deadpan humor, but lurking beneath is a real melancholy, and a feeling that to mature, to become civilized, is to sever the connection to something essential to who we are.
“Fantastic Mr. Fox” is clever and funny, yes, but it’s also strangely existential. It asks why we just can’t seem to help ourselves from doing the things that get us in trouble, and why we just can’t resist being who we are, even if it will kill us. One of Anderson’s best films captures the fact that “fantastic” has nothing to do with being perfect; it has to do with embracing the wildness that makes us who we are.
Daily Arts Writer Tiffany McKalko can be reached at tmckalko@umich.edu.
- “The Grand Budapest Hotel” (2014)
While some may not agree that “The Grand Budapest Hotel” is the best Anderson film, I think it’ll come as no shock that it took the number one spot. In a way, “The Grand Budapest Hotel” is the most high-Anderson you can get without losing a feeling of genuineness; it’s really the last film Anderson made before his style became an imitation of itself.
Smartly funny, and at times deceivingly sad, “The Grand Budapest Hotel” follows the story of hotel concierge Monsieur Gustave H (Ralph Fiennes, “Conclave”), his protégé Zero Moustafa and the events that ensue when a priceless painting is left in Gustave’s possession. Despite the sometimes-fantastical worlds in which an Anderson film can place a viewer, there’s something real that beats beneath the surface of “The Grand Budapest Hotel.” Truly, what I think separates this film from his later works is that, even though it’s rich in style, it’s even richer in heart.
Yes, “The Grand Budapest Hotel” is a film that represents peak Wes Anderson in its appearances, but it also represents peak Anderson in the story it aims to tell — one of friendship, loyalty and the importance of the connections that we form with others.
Daily Arts Contributor Avalon Ring can be reached at avalonr@umich.edu.
