
"Your tractors uprooted my tree.
Your posse hunted my family.
Your gunmen kidnapped my nephew.
Your rat insulted my wife — and you shot off my tail.
I'm not leaving here without that necktie!"
— Mr. Fox, Fantastic Mr. Fox (2000)
*The auteur theory is based on the notion that filmmakers can be considered authors, the title earned through producing a body of work that illustrates his/her unique, creative touch and world views. the auteurist’s films are tied to their name because of their distinguishable, artistic influence on the films.
Here, I discuss two films by Wes Anderson tuned to his visual styles and thematic choices, that grant him the title.




The Royal Tenenbaums and Fantastic Mr. Fox can feel like totally separate films, with one being a wealthy family’s upbringing in a retro cityscape and the other a creature-filled animation in (or underneath) the idyllic countryside, but the two in fact share much in common due to Anderson’s auteurist applications. Both plots center around a morally questionable patriarch who has selfishly cast aside his duties for material rewards, the family and community negatively affected by his imprudence, and his path to redemption through understanding others. Blindsided by their desires, Royal Tenenbaum and Mr. Fox repeatedly disappoint those around them, until they finally learn the importance of assuming responsibility and listening to those around them. There’s a more emotionally present, level-headed mother acting as a foil in Etheline and Mrs. Fox, a son with ongoing strife due to feeling dismissed by their father in Chas and Ash, and children who act more mature than their older counterparts in the Tenenbaums during their childhood and Ash’s cousin Kristofferson. Stylistically, both implement Anderson’s trademark visual identity of vivid colors and typography. The live action presents a stunning color palette just as well as the stop-motion does, remarkable to the eye with warm autumn tones of browns, yellows, and red. In the opening scenes of both are punchy text displays that convey the beginning of a story time, and throughout the films are embedded neat and colorful title cards to segment the plot, much like a real author would in a storybook. There’s also immediately music joining the images in the opening scenes, and though the selections are genres apart with The Royal Tenenbaums’ 70s-inspired wistful pop and Fantastic Mr. Fox’s rustic instrumental jingles, the usage of both have the same effect in bringing the audience deep into the mood and setting. Anderson works the same magic in the art of mise-en-scene, framing shots very intentionally to guide viewers’ attention to the story. There are profile shots where we only see the individual in frame; there are long takes that move from one section to the next, when we are shown the different underground units of the animals and the aftermath of Eli’s crash. Spacing of elements, usually the characters, are scrupulous to employ visual symmetry and a stage-like presentation.




The advantages of animation were not lost on Anderson; in fact, it’s quite apparent that his auteur style flourishes all the more in the context. With full control in creating and operating the handcrafted elements, his fastidious methods in creating perfect storybook-like imagery on screen translate perfectly. Where the imperfect real world with its limitations may impede him in creating a live action project echoing his faithful vision, the world of animation affords him the agency to direct everything as he imagined. He’s able to construct a picturesque, scintillating mise-en-scene through the power of art, the storyboard becoming the production itself. He’s able to maximize expression of characters, giving the animals energetic, visceral mannerisms and the humans pronounced, ghastly visages. Nothing in the movie is ever still – even in stagnant scenes, there’s fur being bristled, teeth being chattered, something vibrating to signal dynamism.
Wes Anderson’s brand of auteurism is illustrated in Fantastic Mr. Fox from the very first frolic that Mr. and Mrs. Fox take in the fields together at the start of the film. Immediately, certain features are prominent – the satisfying palette projected in the brown-yellow hues of the scenery complementing those of the two foxes, the long tracking shot laterally following them through multiple picturesque locations that are shown like stage backdrops, the spacing of objects parallel and symmetrical to create a balanced set, the banjo heavy background music inviting us into the rural adventure they’re taking together. Anderson’s influence is readily seen in the first few minutes just through aesthetic and cinematography choices unique to him. In many scenes comes not only visual representation of his style but also thematic ones; in one of the most poignant moments of the film, Mr. Fox is stopped on the road at the sight of a wolf, an animal which he has a phobia of. He hopes to strike a conversation with it, only to be met with silence as the wolf does not speak. The wolf stands silent and dignified, and visually is quite disjoined on top of the snowy white peak, towering above Mr. Fox and his posse in their toasty yellow oasis. Mr. Fox realizes he cannot communicate much with this wild animal, and throws up a fist – to which the wolf responds with the same. His eyes well up with tears, and we gather from this scene of a few words an important message in the film similar to those of his other ones: live where you are supposed to live and be who you are supposed to be. In Mr. Fox’s case, he finally understands his obligation to his domestic life.