Moonrise Kingdom is a love story between two twelve-year-olds (Kara Hayward and Jared Gilman) on an island off the coast of New England in the 1960s.

Wes Anderson creates a miniature universe filled with minute details and social outcasts. The island of New Penzance has no paved roads, and is accessible only by ferry, cut off from the main land much as the characters are cut off from each other.

Early on, Hayward runs away to meet her young pen pal, bringing with her only a suitcase filled with her favourite books, a record player, lefty scissors, her kitten and her trusty binoculars. Estranged from her classmates at school and from her distant parents (Bill Murray and Frances McDormand), Hayward bonds immediately with the socially inept Gilman, an orphan, who is spending his summer as a Khaki scout at Camp Ivanhoe. The pair soon sends the island into a frantic search, as the local police chief (Bruce Willis) and the rest of Gilman’s troop go out to look for them. When Gilman’s foster parents forbid him to return to their home, a Social Services taskmaster (Tilda Swinton) is prompted to ferry out to the island.

Underneath its sugary outer coating, the film is anti-institutional. As if seen by child, adult establishments are oppressive and at points ridiculous.

As much as the film deals with nostalgia, it also speaks to disillusionment. The world-weary adults are evidence of lives and relationships that didn’t work. But for Hayward and Gilman, the outlook is more optimistic. They don’t belong in the adult world. Maybe they’ll be all right.

Anderson expresses himself in a visual feast. Moonrise Kingdom is dense in visuals, dreamy primary colours, deadpan jokes, and tiny moments that speak much with little. Underneath the sweet visual layer is a grown up movie with heavy themes and characters whose motivations are so complex that only an adult would understand. This isn’t a movie for children about children. This is a movie for adults told through the eyes of children.