How we look at the world depends, among other things, on how other people show it to us. There are few film-makers with as distinctive and hypnotic a quality of vision as this beaky 49-year-old Texan. You don’t go to The Darjeeling
Limited or The Grand Budapest Hotel for a bracing dose of reality. These are exquisitely lucid if not altogether untroubled dreams, stylised to within an inch of anything resembling life. And yet, look again and see that Anderson has inspired the aesthetic of a generation. His films have made us reconsider what was once twee and dusty, the early-20th-century Mittel-European shtick, vintage-revivalist India and summer-camp Americana. From millennial pink to tea-party
chic, it turns out we’re living on Planet Wes after all. Which is cause for celebration rather than alarm. If his movies have a message, it’s an encouraging one – to look again, seek the symmetries, the pleasing rhymes and lovely echoes. Take a moment to smell the perfectly aligned roses, to inhale, like Monsieur Gustave, l’air de panache.