Moonrise Kingdom: The Oppression of Conformity

By Joseph Romano

Spoilers Ahead!

On New Penzance, the inverse is typically the truth. Adults act as children and children as adults. The Boy Scouts go about their business as if they were an extension of the military. The ultimate antagonist is the nameless Child Services (Tilda Swinton). Above all else, the 1960s summer aesthetic is set to a loveless tune.

As is common within the Wes Anderson filmography, each and every adult in the film appears to be broken or alone. Loveless marriages, failed relationships, and unabridged isolation seem to match well with the theme of an island that can only be reached by plane – and of course by ferry. The only fleeting hope the audience has at an injection of joy is the seemingly ill-fated relationship between Sam (Jared Gilman) and Suzy (Kara Hayward). The pensive final shot of the camera shifting down onto the canvas of “Moonrise Kingdom” allows the viewer to hope, but also to dread. Will this vibrant love story simply fade away and transform into another loveless marriage, such as with Suzy’s parents? Furthermore, do they even have a say in the matter?

The sun rarely shines through in Moonrise Kingdom. The clouds always seem to persist to some extent, ultimately crashing down in the deluge that highlights the third act of this film. This is very possibly the interaction between character and fate, as this historic storm is foretold by the mystic Narrator (Bob Balaban). When asked if he ever loved someone, Captain Sharp (Bruce Willis) replies in a dejected manner, “she never loved me back.” He cannot seem to reconcile his perceived inadequacies with a desolate world that can harp upon every potential flaw.

Suzy tokes around a suitcase filled to the brim with library books, mostly of the fantasy genre. They are more than simply the longings, for adventure, of a young girl. Rather, they can shed light upon the larger themes that Anderson intersperses into the film. Firstly, from the perspectives of the children, their romance would, of course, appear more as fantasy than reality. That is probably where they found their inspiration for an ill-fated escape, a journey into the woods. Beyond that, perhaps Anderson is attempting to suggest that the idea of a lasting love is more in line with fiction than reality, as well.

Similar to the Young Author’s book, in The Grand Budapest Hotel, Sam’s conclusory painting might have trapped their love where life cannot damage it. Their own bond will soon be worn thin and even if it does persist will never be the same pure, unbridled expressions that they experienced on that inlet, where they had a kingdom to themselves. That, however, is reserved for the past and preserved in the form of art. Anderson included a special tribute for his girlfriend at the film’s conclusion, which might further support this theory. Is Moonrise Kingdom an attempt to capture their relationship at its opening stages, as a means to remind themselves of the joy it can contain? It’s impossible to know, but Anderson is a major proponent of capturing the most intimate of emotions in his films. Art cannot be eroded as life can.

The movie places the concepts of idealism and reality in direct contrast with one another. Sam believes that his escape, based on how he packed, will last for an eternity. Whereas Suzy leaves a note for her brother indicating that his record player will be returned within ten days or less. This dynamic is reversed as they basked in the orange glow of the summer dusk. Both characters are reflecting upon their respective childhoods, when Suzy says, “I always wished I was an orphan. Most of my favorite characters are. I think your lives are more special.” Staggering, almost stunned Sam replies, “I love you, but you don’t know what you’re talking about.” These characters feel genuine, their love feels real, and above all else they are still children with children’s thoughts.

Every character struggles to meet expectations, in many ways it defines them, as the inability to live up to their own standards, or those of their society, is a persistent theme throughout the film. Scout Master Ward (Edward Norton) cannot seem to escape the daunting task of proving himself to be the spitting image of the macho Scout Commander Pierce (Harvey Keitel), but that is not who he is. Nearly everyone in this film aspires to be more, yet more is not always better.

Anderson is attempting to show that despite all of these characters’ aspirations, it is their true natures that make a difference in the end. The lonely police captain and scout master, by the conclusion, are realized as the heroes – their actions of valor saving lives, of course, spurred on by the example of the children. In those moments of sudden bravery, they did not need to consider what they should do, instead, they just did it. The children’s escape and subsequent storm allowed the adults of the island to awaken from their stupor. Scoutmaster Ward’s change of framed photo, from the idolized scout commander to his hushed love interest by the film’s conclusion, is a perfect example of this. Mr. and Mrs. Bishop (Bill Murray and Frances McDormand) lay awake in the darkness of night, contemplating what had occurred and their own role. She, dejectedly says, “We are all [the kids] have, Walt.” Which he potently replies to with, “it’s not enough.” Cutting straight through every muted layer of intricate design and vibrant style, he was able to encapsulate the film into a few words.

The people of New Penzance were living a dazed existence – afraid and alone – which is inevitably washed away by the events of the film. The adult characters are defined by their roles in society – the Bishops are lawyers, Captain Sharp represents the police, Scout Master Ward by his role as well, and of course the nameless Social Services. Their indebtedness to their societal norms has disabled them emotionally, while the freedom of the children allows them to embrace genuine human emotion. The conclusion, therefore, suggests that change might be on the horizon symbolized in the form of the regenerative quality of water.

The problem can easily be encapsulated into a single conversation. When Sam asks his bully what it is that caused him to dislike him, he mindlessly responds, “Why should I? Nobody else does.” He cannot look beyond the perception of society at large, instead fitting in line with everyone else. The fog that has come upon New Penzance is not simply a weather formation, but the corrosion of the concept of individuality within modern society. Suzy and Sam are outcast and labeled as problem children because of their individuality, while those who display conformity are rewarded. The dependability of their lives has caused most of the characters in the film to become mired in the hopelessness of singularity.

The island displays the natural, New England beauty that life can contain, and the brooding weather represents what conformity can enact upon that future. The only means by which to escape the perpetuation of that fate comes in the form of a flood – destruction, but then renewal. Moonrise Kingdom is so effective because it stokes the basis of conformity in society yet does not necessarily blame anyone. The adults obviously have the faulty perspective, but the film does not villainize them for it. It is not their lacking as people, but rather the responsibility of their society which has promoted the shunning of individualism. If these two children – constantly rejected and forgotten – can embrace the unadulterated passion of life, then why can’t everyone else?