The wild animals of Wes Anderson’s first stop-motion feature are more human than anyone else he has depicted onscreen.
Dirt. Blood. Violence. Thunder. Predators. They’re all components that make up the natural world; vicious things that are utterly necessary for it to function, but within the emotional and irrational human mind, vicious things that are too ugly to behold and too upsetting to acknowledge. They’re also words that could be used to describe Fantastic Mr. Fox, but they would never come to mind while recounting it. In spite of the visible bloodshed that we’ve been conditioned to know as villainy in our lives, the audience never considers it to be such due to Anderson’s matter-of-fact (symmetrical, pastel, monotone) style of directing. With this artistic dexterity adapted to stop-motion, the film quickly becomes one of Anderson’s most charming works to date. These are facts of life, Anderson tells us. They’re just wild animals.
Another word to describe the film would be manic. The breakneck pace of the film’s plot progression actually makes room for compelling characterization and successfully realized arcs. The titular Mr. Fox undergoes a transformation from, put simply, a selfish asshole to a selfless one, a journey whose false justifications, salesman-like manipulation, and well-organized schemes are delightful to behold; essentially a comedy of addiction. Simultaneously, the growth of Ash and Kristofferson’s relationship (mostly Ash; scratch that, exclusively Ash) finds a very strong emotional foothold, and culminates brilliantly within one of many set-pieces in the final act of the film (“I weigh less than a slice of bread”).
The dry, raw interactions between a supposedly loving family (likely supplied by co-writer Noah Baumbach, known for his intimate understanding of dysfunctional family dynamics) are the main source of comedy, and certainly the best. The chemistry between Jason Schwartzman as Ash and just about any character he interacts with is side-splitting, and the audience finds themselves rooting for this spiteful (but misunderstood) young fox purely because of his comedic timing. Meryl Streep playing Mrs. Fox has a thunderous energy when (rightfully) outraged at her husband’s self-indulgence, but it’s the misery that underlies this anger that gives these confrontations nuance. Her character, at least before Fox’s redemption, is a tragic one; a housewife whose family life is subtly oppressive due to a husband’s gaslighting, deceit, and dominance.
Really, it’s the unique artistry that Anderson flaunts here that gives the film its legacy. He conjures endless interest with stop-motion long shots that keep a singular camera angle, movement seen from every corner of the frame. Motion and expressions become as abstract as possible while staying within the borders of some arbitrary circle of cartoonity. Stop-motion actors play off their environment to generate the emotion of the scene, an environment that feels truly alive and prosperous before it’s threatened by the cruel forces of human industry. It’s a rare thing for an artist to make a distinct mark on his art, but Anderson accomplishes it in spades here, as well as throughout his filmography. It would be a sore thing to lack a filmmaker like this, so I consider it a blessing that he’s here. May he continue producing eccentric tableaus until the day his talent wains, and may I live long enough to see every one of them.
