We buy digital games that can disappear from our libraries. We stream movies and shows that get quietly deleted because of licensing or tax write-offs or someone at Warner Bros deciding we don’t need Infinity Train in our lives anymore. Even music, once our forever iTunes companion, now lives on borrowed time behind a monthly fee.
So when I see Criterion’s Wes Anderson Archive box set - 10 films, 20 discs, 4K restorations, and over 20 hours of bonus content packed in a clothbound box - I feel something I haven’t felt in a while: security. Cultural permanence. The audacity of a tangible legacy in a world of disappearing content.
Because let’s be honest: Wes Anderson isn’t just a director. He’s a genre. A feeling. A very specific shade of mustard yellow. He makes dioramas that breathe, and he directs like he’s painting with camera movements. This isn’t just a collection of movies - it’s a curated museum exhibit. Something to keep, to pass down, to show your friends and say, “This… this was cinema.”
And yet… it’s $500. Well, $349.99 if you preorder it during a Barnes & Noble sale, but still. That’s a big ask in an age where we’re used to getting 10,000 movies for $9.99 a month. It’s the cost of a decent weekend trip or six months of subscriptions you forgot to cancel.
So now I’m stuck between two realities: the nostalgic, nerdy part of me that wants to preserve Wes like an ancient Egyptian with a freshly dead pharaoh… and the practical side that says, “Dude. You already own half of these on Blu-ray.”
But maybe that’s not the point. Maybe the point is that this box set is a little act of rebellion - a way of saying, “No algorithm will take this from me.” A small, symmetrical monument to a filmmaker who made being weird into an art form.
And if that’s not worth something… maybe we’ve lost the plot.
