As the evenings get darker earlier, and the leaves turn from red to orange, I can’t help but find myself returning to Wes Anderson’s Fantastic Mr. Fox – which most definitely takes the title of the most autumnal film of all time. The film’s aesthetic pays homage to Quentin Blake’s iconic illustrations that famously brought Roald Dahl’s book to life, it is full of rich colour and the simultaneously unnerving and charming stop-motion animation feels like the ideal way to capture the quirkiness and character of his writing. Anderson knew that in making this feature animated he would lose a percentage of audience interest instantly, yet the film has persevered and remained a firm favourite for thousands. I credit this to how funny, relatable and emotionally engaging the story is in its portrayal of an identity crisis from the perspective of a fox. The story explores themes of acceptance and encourages celebrating difference – a sentiment that is more topical than ever in the current cultural climate.

The stop-motion masterpiece centres on Mr. Fox (George Clooney), who finds his wild animal instincts clashing with the responsibilities he has both as husband to artist Felicity (Meryl Streep) and as father to angsty Ash (Jason Schwartzman). When he decides he doesn’t “want to live in a hole anymore” and moves his family to a cosy house in a tree, he finds it is perfectly positioned opposite the looming industrial farms of Boggis, Bunce and Bean. The delicious possibilities of their presence become an obsession for Foxy, who decides on one last hurrah to steal from each of the farms, and chase the highs of his youth. His actions end up enraging the farmers, who form a plan to fight back, putting the other animals in the community in danger.

Fantastic Mr. Fox was the first Wes Anderson film I ever had the pleasure of watching, and what captured my attention was how unique, engaging and different his style of filmmaking is. It seems poignant, then, that the celebration of difference is one that Anderson explores emphatically in this story. Ash, my favourite character with his small stature, distinct all-white ensemble (cape included), insecure outbursts and insistence that he’s an “athlete”, stands as a representation of difference. Characters repeatedly dismiss him as such, even his father who does not understand his son, but he has an unwavering sense of self-belief. His strong-willed nature in the face of persistent judgement means that when he finally has his hero moment, his realisation that being “little” is not a bad thing is all the more sweet. Foxy’s line is inspired “I think it may very well be all the beautiful differences among us that just might give us the tiniest glimmer of a chance” is my favourite sentiment in the film. The idea that everyone has quirks and distinctions, and the acceptance and appreciation of those traits are what builds a community. It’s a particularly beautiful message to include in a children’s film and one that remains important as we move through life.

It seems strange for a children’s film to centre on the mid-life crisis of its lead. Yet Anderson effortlessly transcends generational boundaries by creating a layered film with a simple ‘David and Goliath’ story at its surface about an underdog (or under-fox in this case) sticking it to three nasty farmers that simultaneously navigates the pretty adult sensation of feeling dissatisfied with the hand you are given and wanting more from life. His world is full of juxtapositions – he justifies his thieving behaviour with the statement “I’m a wild animal”, an ironic statement given the very domesticated life he leads, working a white collar job, wearing a tailored suit and moving his family above ground like a human to not “feel poor”.

“Who am I, and how can a fox ever be happy without…a chicken in its teeth?” Fox says early on; a notion that shapes the entirety of the film. His dreams conflict with his wife who is focused on keeping their family safe, and prefers to exercise her self-expression through painting lightning bolts in her artwork. Mr. Fox’s unrest is the major cause of conflict in the story, as he is itching for more from life, chasing the idea of being “the quote-unquote Fantastic Mr. Fox” – a beatific version of himself intent on perpetually impressing people with his thrill-chasing and perfectly executed heists. The inclusion of the lonely psychotic rat (voiced by Willem Dafoe) who guards Mr. Bean’s cider cellar is almost a warning to Foxy of what he could become if he continues this path of pure reckless desire. Mr. Fox only truly understands what he wants when what he has gets put in jeopardy. The ‘Fantastic Mr. Fox’ he becomes accepts failure and tries again anyway, shifting his focus from his own glory and channelling that energy for greatness into leading his friends and family to survival.

Foxy’s final stage of acceptance comes when he meets a wolf, a symbol of untameable wildness and the only thing he truly fears. When he sees one in the wild, standing on all fours and wearing no human clothes, Mr. Fox sheds a tear and they raise a paw to one another in solidarity. In this moment, he realises that though he is an animal, he is not as wild as he truly thought. This chance encounter gives him perspective and allows him to make peace with his existence, learning to balance his innate animal behaviour and his domestic life.

Wes Anderson is such a special filmmaker, with his distinct stylised symmetrical visual masterpieces and his ability to not let style overtake substance. 15 years later the emotive themes of identity, the acceptance of change and the idea that “there’s something kind of fantastic” about being different are still just as moving. The message to take away is comforting; as you learn more about your existence, as you grow older and perhaps become a parent, your perspective changes. But this doesn’t have to be a bad thing; it just means that the adventures you’re going to have might be a bit different to the ones you imagined. The Fantastic Mr. Fox he thought he would be isn’t the Fantastic Mr. Fox he became – but that does not make him any less brilliant.