This is Wes Anderson at his best: artistic, silly, plotless for the most part. If you read The New Yorker or perhaps write for McSweeney’s you need to see this film. It’s a send-up of columnists, especially those of long ago who preferred paragraph-long sentences that shamelessly perambulated throughout the iconic folds of dictionary pages while secreting supercilious punctuation like a baseball player trudging through a Midwestern sleet while wearing cleats: it’s not necessary, but certainly worth a brag at a funereal after party.

The font face is divine. As are all the stars. At last count there were 513 Hollywood types doing cameos. There’s a new game coming out for those who like star spotting. Works like a word search only with actors names from the film.

It’s a delightful movie especially for Wes Anderson fans. If you don’t get Anderson, don’t go to this film. You will only get mad.

Before this film I had a mild crush on his films. After viewing The French Dispatch, I am now one of the legion of Wes Anderson fans. Can’t wait for the Criterion Collection.

— Sue Lange/producer LE BON CHEF