It's 1955 and a diverse group of people converge on a desert tourist destination known as Asteroid City to attend a Junior Stargazer/Space Cadet convention. The tiny town is called Asteroid City because it's the site of a gigantic meteor crater.
Among those bringing their Junior Stargazers to the convention is grieving father and war photographer Augie Steenbeck (Jason Schwartzman), whose wife died three weeks ago, but he has yet to break the news to his kids. There is also a movie star (Scarlett Johansson) with her daughter (Grace Edwards) at the convention, a young teacher (Maya Hawke) and her class, and a singing cowboy (Rupert Friend). Eventually, Augie's disapproving father-in-law (Tom Hanks) shows up. Even a space alien makes an appearance, which causes everyone in town to be quarantined by the government.
Here's the kicker, though. In the movie, Asteroid City is a play, so we get black and white flashbacks - complete with a narrator (Bryan Cranston) - of the author (Edward Norton) writing and casting his show.
You know you might be in trouble when the film has the lead actor of the stage play struggling with his role because he doesn't know what the play is about. Sure, this latest Wes Anderson opus is as quirky as quirky can be, but there is barely a story, or much of a point. The many tangents and subplots - like the alien - have no payoff. What I can gather from the script's purely surface level examination of these characters is that maybe these people are burying their personal heartaches while pretending to live some picture perfect postcard fantasy of the 1950s, but it doesn't have the emotional payoff like Anderson's best movies like Rushmore, The Royal Tenenbaums or Moonrise Kingdom.
Now, Asteroid City, with its pop-pastel coloring, is wonderful to look at, and there are a handful of funny moments thanks to the reserved line deliveries from the actors. If you are happy with a very, very lightweight, patently odd and mildly amusing Wes Anderson movie, then you may enjoy this. I wanted a little more.
