Watching No Escape should remind us that we think we know far more about how the world works than we really do. It seems odd, for instance, that Jack accepts this job and brings his family to this far-away place apparently oblivious to the powder keg that is about to explode.
In the eight years it took us to get this movie to the screen, our dad has visited Drew and me on four movie sets on three continents. Drew and I live about a mile apart from each other, work together, and spend probably half our waking hours talking.
There are films that make you want to run to the bookstore or, in reality, Amazon.com. Any Jane Austen or Dickens adaptation. Atonement. Requiem for a Dream perhaps. Then there is Paul Thomas Anderson's adaptation of Thomas Pynchon's Inherent Vice.
If Cinemacon was an essay, I was a measly comma. The fourth day of Cinemacon was my new beginning, a rebirth for the sassiest party-crasher on the strip. I hoped to wiggle into VIP areas with my usual poise and brashness, but I was unsure whether I could succeed.
There are, I am increasingly convinced, but two kinds of people in this world: People who hate Wes Anderson films and human beings. At the Hotel Andersonia, art trumps evil every time, that's why we keep coming back every year.