Wes Anderson’s film is an often fascinating, wondrous exercise in complex narration and visual composition.
The film barely even scratches the surface of the animating force of Cézanne and Zola’s lives: their art.
It takes the most accessible and middlebrow route to psychologizing one of fashion’s most enduring demagogues.
Let the critics eat cake.
Remarkably, Coppola doesn’t ask us to take Marie Antoinette as she thinks she was, but as she probably was.