The Rat Catcher (2023)

The Rat Catcher is Wes Anderson in miniature and at his most mischievously precise: a droll, storybook chamber piece where every frame feels hand-arranged and every pause lands like a punchline. It plays like a sly fireside tale told with immaculate timing, as a reporter and a mechanic listen to a rat man spin his method with deadpan confidence, the film’s crisp editing and audacious staging turning simple narration into visual delight. Ralph Fiennes, Richard Ayoade, and Rupert Friend are superb in that uniquely Andersonian register—wry, controlled, and quietly hilarious—while the tone keeps edging into something deliciously uncanny. It’s short, sharp, and not for viewers who want warmth or realism, but if you enjoy comedy with a polished, surreal bite, it’s a small feast.

The Rat Catcher is Wes Anderson doing what he does best: a meticulously staged, storybook-style vignette that turns a simple Roald Dahl tale into a theatrical little performance about obsession and cleverness. If you’re expecting a conventional comedy with big laughs, character arcs, or a satisfying plot payoff, this will likely feel more like a narrated art piece than a movie. The deadpan delivery and hyper-controlled visuals are the point, but they can also make it feel emotionally distant, and some of the imagery and tone is quietly unsettling despite the tidy presentation. On the plus side, it’s sharply acted (Fiennes is reliably magnetic) and beautifully crafted, but it’s best for viewers who enjoy Anderson’s precise, talky miniatures and don’t mind leaving with more mood than story.