With every film he creates, Wes Anderson gets more self-consciously affected and less rewarding. Most of the action takes place in the titular desert outpost, but he uses a play with useless narration as a framing device  (presented by period-stiff announcer Bryan Cranston). Anderson, has gone for a sun-drenched retro-futuristic 50s vibe, but the stiff performances and pause-laden pacing only serve to distance the audience from everything. The visuals are bright and appealing, but every actor is so burdened with deadpan delivery they seem like automatons repeating absurdities. With his preciously-staged, precisely mounted moments Anderson’s formal, stiff style is more like a museum exhibit than a cinematic comedy. (2 / 5)

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