Moonrise Kingdom: Too Twee or Not Too Twee

kirsch, n.  1 An alcoholic spirit distilled in Germany and Switzerland from a fermented liquor obtained by crushing wild cherries. 2 "The most disgusting thing sold at the liquor store" as quoted by my brother-in-law 

A friend and I were hanging out on Saturday afternoon and I invited her to see Moonrise Kingdom with me later. Without skipping a beat, she replied, “I refuse to go to another Wes Anderson movie until he actually makes another movie. All of his films are the same: carefully composed scenes with expressionless actors in stories of family dysfunction and ennui…with a quirky 70s soundtrack.” She has a point. It would seem that there is too much kirsch in Mr. Anderson’s fondue for Michelle’s tastes.

Not so for the following three women:

1. The woman of a certain age who looked like a schoolteacher and who yelled from the passenger seat of a minivan as it drove by the ticket line in which I was standing: “Awwwwwesome movieeeeeeeeeeeee!”…her cries receding into the twilight distance. 
2. The woman seated in the row behind me and to my left who, upon viewing the first frame of the movie, exclaimed, “He’s using a different font! I don’t believe it! Look! He always uses the same font. But this! This is different! This is a different font!” 
3. The woman who tried to make conversation with me in the toilette after the movie had concluded...[backstory: I drank too much water(!?!) at dinner and had raced to the movie with no time to spare for a visit to the facilities.] As soon as the end credits began to roll, I sprang from my seat and raced up the stairs to the ladies’ room. Alas, I found myself first in line. Behind me came a very nice, elegant, poised woman. She turned to me and said, in a very nice, elegant, very poised manner, “Well, that was a really sweet movie, wasn’t it?” As I was concentrating all of my attention on staring pointedly, fixedly, and crazy-eyed at the two stall doors and willing one of the two stall occupants to finish up her business already, I had little mental energy to reroute to this attempt at conversation. “Yes,” I mumbled, “it was. Really. Very sweet.” Then we stood there. In silence. Both of us, presumably, musing on the saccharinity of the movie. One of us doing so nicely, elegantly, and with poise. One of us doing so while simultaneously wondering how long she had until renal failure set in. 

 For these women, Wes Anderson has just the right amount of kirsch in his recipe. What other prurient or unmentionable designs they have on Anderson’s fondue is not any of this reviewer’s business.

Some other things I noticed:

• Bob Balaban (the guy in the red jacket) steals the show again 
• Bob Balaban’s pants and those of Bruce Willis’ character also steal the show – both test the upper limits of high water trouser length. In a movie about a coastal storm, is this a coincidence? I think not.
• Present as always are the requisite trampolines and heavy eye makeup on the female love interest, among other Andersonian standards that fans have come to know and love (or merely accept).
• Suzy reads stories to the Khaki Scouts in a most [Wendy] Darling manner, which brings to mind another story that comments on the wistfulness of growing up. Is Wes Anderson Peter Pan? Probably. Is there more to say on this topic? Yes, there is.
• Lastly, I'm pretty sure Bruce Willis' character has a Die Hard flashback.

And me? How did I find the flavor of the movie? I can taste the kirsch, sure. Is it making me feel kind of sick? Uh huh. So yes, there could be less. But I’m going to keep eating the fondue, dammit. Because it’s cheese! Sweet sweet melted cheese!