If there’s one thing about me, it’s that I’m vehemently opposed to the belief that Wes Anderson movies “are all style and no substance” (seriously, this is my favorite small talk conversation). When I’m down and in need of a pick-me-up, chances are that a Wes Anderson movie is the first thing I flip on to lift my spirits. From the signature quirky dialogue and stylistic eccentricities that make the director so endearing, the films also offer colorful characters and touching storylines of love, loss, and human nature behind the conveniently aesthetic exterior. So, in lieu of his recent TikTok fame, below is my personal ranking of the auteur’s entire catalog, evaluated based on the story, characters, and style.
- Fantastic Mr. Fox—Not only is Fantastic Mr. Fox my favorite Wes Anderson movie, it’s simply one of my all-time favorite movies in general. Based on the beloved Roald Dahl novel, this film boasts stunning stop-motion animation, incredible voice-acting performances, infinitely endearing characters, and one of my favorite Alexandre Desplat scores. And behind it all is a touching message about purpose, family, human (or animal) nature, and embracing what makes you different. I can’t explain it, but this movie just makes me feel things to my core in a way that few other movies do. And the line “we’re all different, him especially—but there’s something kind of fantastic about that, isn’t there?” triggers the waterworks every time. I truly cannot recommend this movie enough to anyone who enjoys animation and quirky, offbeat stories, as well as impeccable autumnal vibes. It will become an instant classic for you, for sure.
- The Royal Tenenbaums —If you’ve ever wondered what happens to gifted kids when they grow up, look no further than The Royal Tenenbaums. This movie is one of Anderson’s absolute best ensemble films, featuring a star-studded cast in which Anderson impossibly makes each and every character equally captivating in their own right. Their individual journeys are balanced so well and also cohere so beautifully together in the end. The film is a touching portrait of family in all its complexities, from adopted sibling romance to faking cancer just so your estranged children will spend time with you (haven’t we all been there). The film proves it’s never too late to change, make amends, and find your way back to the person you want to be.
- Grand Budapest Hotel—The world-building of this movie is just absolutely sickening. Though Zubrowka is a fictional country, the Grand Budapest Hotel and all its inhabitants feel so lush and real. And, once again, the film is a masterclass in characterization. One thing Anderson excels at is creating such vivid, distinct personalities in his movies, and M. Gustave is quite possibly one of his most fascinating. While the murder mystery plot is action-packed, suspenseful, and fun, behind it all is also an emotionally effective story about changing times and the illusory struggle to maintain a world of innocence, romance, and L’Air de Panache that no longer exists. The film features another incredible score by Desplat, and all around, it’s simply a grand (no pun intended) showcase of all Anderson’s talents.
- Moonrise Kingdom—This movie is one of my favorite flicks to watch in the summertime. Another exemplary showcase of Anderson’s skill at crafting vivid and lived-in worlds, this time, the story takes place in the fictional Massachusetts island of New Penzance, populated by pastel colors, khaki-wearing boy scouts, and candy-striped lighthouses, with a sea breeze you can almost smell through the screen. Funny, heart-warming, but also emotional, the film is a truly endearing story of two kids who fall in love and run away together, leaving their parents and various members of the community to spend the whole movie trying to track them down. It’s a truly touching story about childhood innocence and family and rings with nostalgia for a time you may not have even experienced yourself, which is the magic of Anderson’s movies.
- Rushmore—I’ve only seen this movie once, so I don’t remember a ton of details about it. But I do remember it has a hilarious turn by Jason Schwartzmann as the titular character, Max. He attends the prestigious Rushmore Academy, which he pretty much turns into his entire identity. Max’s character is relatable to anyone desperate to prove themselves, as he joins every extracurricular under the sun and—as he will continually assert— “saved Latin.” One of my favorite scenes is when Herman Blume says, “She was my Rushmore, Max,” in regard to the teacher that they both fall for. Rushmore represents Max’s obsession and desire for confirmation from others, just like his infatuation with Rosemary Cross. Overall, the film is funny, witty, and packed full of awesome rock songs in signature Anderson fashion.
- Isle of Dogs—Wes Anderson’s only other animated entry, this story tells the tale of a futuristic Japan in which an outbreak of “dog flu” necessitates the removal of all dogs to an isolated island for quarantine. Following the perspective of a pack of dogs that live on this island, they team up with a young boy who is in search of his former pet, Spots. Any dog lover will absolutely adore this movie, and once again, the animation is stunning. It is a very sweet story about what “man’s best friend” really means. That being said, there are some weird, problematic elements to the film, like the fact that it is set in Japan, but all the dogs speak in English. Meanwhile, the Japanese characters only speak in subtitles, English translators, or otherwise incomprehensible sentences.While I understand this was a practical decision since the film was made for an English-speaking audience, it feels a little weird and imperialistic to me and created a strange power imbalance. But I digress. Despite the messy politics, it’s a cute and heartwarming story.
- Darjeeling Limited—I personally think this movie is so underrated. In my opinion, it’s one of Anderson’s smartest, most insightful scripts, packed with symbolism and metaphors that all coalesce into a truly moving portrait of grief and the journey to overcome it. Owen Wilson, Jason Schwartzmann, and Adrien Brody are an incredible team as the Whitman brothers, and their strained albeit ultimately endearing relationships with one another are equal parts humorous, frustrating, and moving. I truly could go on and on about the symbolism of the train itself and all of the different meanings behind the film. Once again, however, it is worth recognizing the way that this film falls into some dangerous waters, such as its exoticization of India as the site for white people’s spiritual revelations, wherein the “third world’s” purpose is portrayed as in service of the West. Like Isle of Dogs, parts of the movie leave a weird taste in the mouth.
- Bottle Rocket—I have nothing against Bottle Rocket, but compared with Anderson’s other works, it’s a fairly simple, run-of-the-mill entry for him. Since it was his first film, this makes sense. I’ve also only seen it once, and that was a few years ago. I don’t have much to say about it, and the movie honestly didn’t really stick, not going to lie . . . That being said, the library robbery scene stands out as a memorable chuckle, and Luke and Owen Wilson are, of course, such a great pair, as always. I definitely need to give it a rewatch to provide a more accurate review, so take this one with a grain of salt!
- The Life Aquatic—This one has personally never really done it for me. Aside from the fact that the main character, Steve, is kind of insufferable (I know that’s the point, but I still reserve the right to find him annoying), this is a film that I could allow being dubbed as “style and no substance.” For me, it feels too flashy and lacks the narrative and emotional depth of a lot of the director’s other movies. The runtime also begins to drag pretty quickly and doesn’t really pick up until halfway through. That being said, Willem Dafoe as the grumpy German sailor Fritz, as well as Owen Wilson’s endearing Ned Plimpton, are major highlights, and the story is fun and light-hearted enough that the dull beats don’t seem too heavy.
- The French Dispatch—This movie is so beautiful on a technical level, and the practical effects, in particular, are absolutely stunning. Of course, it earns my favor as a Paris girlie and a journalist. However, some storylines definitely shine brighter than others; the Moses Rosenthaler one is probably the standout for me. Overall, the film, to me, is about individuals trying and failing to find stimulation and meaning in life—in the stories that this folding newspaper tells, the master paintings of Moses that collect dust on the walls of the insane asylum, the cook craving that elusive, never-before-tasted flavor of poison that was deadly but at least something new. It’s this striving for an inescapable purpose that plagues all the narratives. However, I feel like this film is an example of Anderson getting lost in his own abstraction. As an audience member, I often felt alienated from the multi-layered, meta nature of the film that seems to purposefully make itself incomprehensible. Still, the individual snapshots—while maybe not adding up to a clear whole—give Anderson fans the major hallmarks of his aesthetic that they love so much.
11. Asteroid City—Like The French Dispatch but on steroids, this movie really feels like Anderson is just playing into his own stereotypes at this point. I can appreciate the message and the clever way that the narrative format reflects the theme—about trusting the process even when you aren’t sure what “it” all means, or this sense of yearning for meaning and revelation that never comes. For example, even the alien invasion, which seems like it would be a central plot point, is treated as just a minor blip in the characters’ lives that they think little of afterward. The same goes for the plot itself and all its double, layered storylines that fail to come to a concrete solution. When Jason Schwartzmann’s character desperately demands to know what the play is about, Adrien Brody’s character simply replies that sometimes you “just have to keep doing it,” even without knowing the meaning. Ultimately, this parallels the movie’s larger themes about grief and the aftermath of a loss, which is actually a very touching final message. However, in my opinion, a lot of this gets lost behind aestheticism purely for the sake of it. The film’s overly-complicated narrative form, as well as some openly cringe dialogue, which (Anderson defender as I am), even I found a bit pretentious at points. This film continues what The French Dispatch began in that the movie feels more like an intellectual exercise than a movie, with the layered narrative of the story unfolding inside and outside of the play. I feel like, if this movie had been made earlier in Anderson’s career, it would have been a quirky story about the alien acclimating to life in Asteroid City and the hijinks it gets up to. Maybe I just have dum dum brain, but I personally don’t want to do mental acrobatics when I watch a movie. I feel like Anderson’s work in recent years has become increasingly existential and overly philosophical. And while he has every right to become experimental later in his career now that his name is established, for me, he is at his best when the stories are simple, allowing the characters to really shine through and carry the script as opposed to the *ideas.* For this reason, one of my major criticisms of both The French Dispatch and Asteroid City is that I didn’t feel particularly connected to any of the characters, and that’s when Anderson loses me. So, I think I’ll have to leave this one to the analysis and enjoyment of true cinephiles, because for me, it’s a bit too experimental.