It was a Monday afternoon, the last Monday before The French Dispatch would leave our theatre and, dare I say, leave a dark void in its wake. Work? Sure, I had work, but nothing was going to stop me. Why? Because I fucking love Wes Anderson. I don't know when my love for Wes Anderson films started exactly. Fantastic Mr. Fox , perhaps? It wasn't my first Anderson experience, but I was too young to fully appreciate the art of his films when I was a kid. Truthfully, if I think about it, Isle of Dogs was when I officially went a little crazy over him. The style, the dialogue, the music, the everything. I could watch these every day. It's a chemical reaction. The French Dispatch , while not the first, nor the last, is the first Anderson film that made me realize why I will see every film he ever pops out: they make me feel like a better person. I feel changed. I feel inspired in ways that I need, and in ways I rarely feel. Maybe that's the depressive in me talking, or mayb