Can we please just stop everything and talk about how swooningly mesmerizing Wes Anderson’s new film Moonrise Kingdom is? I mean, with the campy aesthetic, existential child actors, 1960′s feel-good retro nostalgia, a plot line to root for, all saturated in that quintessential Wes Anderson yellow undertone oozing with hipster appreciation? Seriously, that yellow! That salmon! That quirky, intelligent and utterly beautiful reckoning of art in story-motion and the inevitable longing to crawl inside a place like Moonrise Kingdom and stay there. I could go on.
Lucky for me, I am bound for a beach in t-minus twenty-four hours, and although I won’t be wearing saddle shoes or packing a suitcase full of fantastical stories featuring superpower heroines, I will be toting a small stack of pre-selected paperbacks (enough to cover the summer variety; a few novels, including a YA, plus a travel memoir and an Annie Dillard–apparently she gets her own genre), and I’m ready to make a rendezvous with every possible means of escape. Lately I’ve watched myself outside of myself as I’ve stretched thinner and more so, namely from a red-light week of being rear-ended (zero damage, but annoying) followed by our home being burglarized (minor damage, but haunting). When you’re violated like that, let’s just say you want to get out the lefty scissors and get revenge. Anyway. I’ve taken on more weight than I planned for, and I’m ready to run away from home for a while, camp by the water, look far out there with my binoculars held just so and start to see up close and far away all at once.