The Swan

Wes Anderson has four new short-films on Netflix. I think they're all based on Roald Dahl stories. Last night I watched the one called "The Swan," and I really had no idea what I was in for. I guess I had expected something comical, with melancholy undercurrents, like most of Anderson's work. Instead, the story is one of the most diabolical horror stories I've ever heard, diabolical because it is so realistic, so believable - describing the ordinary way in which young boys can do terrible things to each other. And yet, because it is expressed through Anderson's cute, stagey, pastel-colored style, there is a distancing effect which somehow makes the piece hit harder than a more realistic style might have. It has the power of a poem, or a song. The magical-realist ending concludes the piece on a mysterious, ambiguous note which can be read in different ways. My god, it's good. So sad, so powerful.

A young boy, Peter Watson, is harassed and essentially kidnapped by two vicious, heartless, gun-armed bullies. Peter is intelligent and a keen studier of wildlife, especially birds. His torment is heightened when the bullies turn the aim of their gun on a beautiful swan.

Another of Wes Anderson's four-episode short story-series, all adaptations of Roald Dahl stories. The others in the series are The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar, The Rat Catcher and Poison.

Wes Anderson adapting a Roald Dahl story seems a perfect combination: the clever innocence of Dahl's writing, Anderson's whimsical, stylised direction. It's been done before, to great effect; 'Fantastic Mr Fox' (2009) was brilliant.

Here it works too, with Dahl's emotional story of innocence-meets-thuggery set to Anderson's clever backdrops and special effects and imbued with the usual Anderson whimsicalness and child-like atmosphere. Rupert Friend is great as the narrator.

Not perfect though. The film seemed set up for a powerful ending but this never came, just fizzling out. The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar was similar - great journey, lacklustre destination. Hopefully this isn't a characteristic of all these films.

The Swan.

A small brilliant boy is tormented by two large idiotic bullies.

First of all, I almost forgot it was a short movie until it finished !

I was fully involved in this magical story and the way it was presented that I'd call it lazy for not capturing what's happening and instead telling what's happening through beautiful frames.

It may look lazy but I know it must be even harder to make such as a thing, especially nowadays when you simply can make it normal, Wes Anderson is beyond that.

The production design was stunning as always and I enjoyed every minute of it, I need more of these colorful narratives by Wes.

The Swan is heartbreaking but ultimately powerful stuff, a story of never backing down or letting monstrous people win. It's uneasy viewing and definitely the darkest of the Wes Anderson Roald Dahl shorts in the most rewarding way possible.

Rupert Friend essentially carries this, narrating everything with almost no support until Fiennes' closing words that adds real power to it. Until then Friend is phenomenal, narrating at a fast speed with a real pain to his voice as he describes what is clearly a very painful memory.

Wes Anderson's direction works so well here, the whimsical world created contrasts so effectively against the dark nature and it's generally just so stunning. This fully artificial world that acts like a play is endlessly watchable and each short has been so unique.

'The Swan (2023)' is perhaps the most stripped-back of Wes Anderson's four Roald Dahl shorts, with only one real major character and a more relaxed approach to the intricate stage-like design that each entry in this pseudo series makes distinct use of. It really feels like Rupert Friend is reading you a story - occasionally altering his pitch, timbre and accent to do the voices of the various characters - and, in its own way, feels strangely intimate. The story itself, although presented with a certain level of twee whimsy, is incredibly bleak and culminates with an ending that hits you like a truck. It's a case of tell more than show, but the aesthetic is specifically designed to accommodate this and it actually makes some moments feel potentially more potent than they would have in more traditional fare. It's a compelling effort overall that moves at a solid pace and has a tangible emotional impact that sneaks up on you but leaves you speechless as the credits roll.