• Algunos de los nombres de los personajes en sus películas, sobre todo en Rushmore (1998), eran los nombres de sus compañeros de clase en la escuela privada St. John.
• Martin Scorsese es un gran fan de sus películas, incluso le eligió como "el próximo Martin Scorsese" en un artículo de la revista Esquire.
• Durante la grabación de Life Aquatic (2004), el hasta entonces pálido y estudioso Anderson adquirió un bronceado, se dejó el cabello largo y obtuvo una mejor forma. Su estrella frecuente, Anjelica Huston, notó que "de repente" Wes se había puesto "guapo".
• Escribió Viaje a Darjeeling (2007) y Moonrise Kingdom (2012) con Roman Coppola. El primo de Coppola, Jason Schwartzman, co-escribió la segunda película y apareció en ambas, así como en la Academia Rushmore (1998).
• La semilla del diablo (1968) es su película favorita.
• Sus películas pertenecen a diversos géneros (drama/comedia, comedia, crimen, etc.).
• Wes tiene una particular forma de insertar en todas sus películas, escenas de vehículos en primera persona, ya sea trenes, automóviles, barcos, helicópteros, submarinos etc., lo cual hace fácil identificar una película suya.

Does Wes Anderson Hate Dogs?
For all the delicious mayhem that befalls the inhabitants of the island of New Penzance in Wes Anderson’s new movie, “Moonrise Kingdom”—a hurricane, lightning strikes, fireworks accidents, a lefty-scissors stabbing—everyone makes it out alive. Well, almost everyone. The lone fatality is Snoopy, a handsome wire-hair fox terrier, who during a spat of “Lord of the Flies”-style violence among some children takes an errant arrow in the neck. When the movies’ two runaway lovers discover the fallen dog, they remember him with an unsentimental eulogy: “Was he a good dog?” young Suzy asks her paramour, Sam, who responds: “Who’s to say? But he didn’t deserve to die.” He then proceeds to pull the arrow out, an act accompanied by some squishy sound effects.

“Moonrise Kingdom” inspired several bouts of nervous laughter in the theatre when I saw it, mostly during the scenes of Suzy and Sam dancing in their underwear. But the most audible squirming was occasioned by Snoopy’s death; the shot showing the dog impaled and inert elicited a shocked, yelping exhale from many people in the audience. That shock then turned to tittering at the children’s frank appraisal, and, then, taking in the scene as a whole, a kind of unsettled admiration—from me at least. Anderson had broken one of Hollywood’s biggest taboos: he offed the dog.

Not everyone was pleased, and some, as they are wont to do, took to Twitter to share their dismay. An example of the measured response:

Why did they kill the dog in Moonrise Kingdom?? WHY DID THEY KILL THE DOG???

Anderson fans won’t have been surprised by Snoopy’s untimely end, though. Throughout his career, the filmmaker has demonstrated an odd animus toward man’s best friend. Below, a quick tour.

In his third movie, “The Royal Tenenbaums,” the family’s patriarch, Royal, played by Gene Hackman, takes his grandkids on a jaunt through the city, backed by Paul Simon’s “Me and Julio Down by the Schoolyard.” Part of their hijinks involves betting on what looks to be some kind of animal fight, which takes place offscreen. When they return home, the children’s father, played by Ben Stiller, notices blood on one of his sons, which Royal blithely explains away:

Later, the movie ends with a car crash, as a character played by Owen Wilson careens his convertible into the Tenenbaum family home. The children are imperiled. But who gets killed? You guessed it: the family beagle, Buckley. (The children later get a new dog, a Dalmatian. Its fate? Unknown.)

In Anderson’s next movie, “The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou,” the cast of ocean explorers have their boat boarded by a gang of Filipino pirates, who make off with a hostage, but leave behind their three-legged dog, sparking Zissou, played by Bill Murray, to wail: “Those fucking amateurs. You left your dog, you idiots!” Later, Zissou talks to his rival, played by Jeff Goldblum, who perhaps prefers cats:

In “Fantastic Mr. Fox,” one of our hero’s principal enemies is Spitz, again a beagle, who may or may not be German. Early on, Mr. Fox imparts some dog-related wisdom to his comrades: “Never look a beagle in the eye.” Here is why:

Later, Mr. Fox drugs the dog with some laced blueberries. Tough break, Spitz!

In Anderson’s oeuvre, pooches are shot, crushed, smacked, and roofied. Cute ones, too; none of these dogs are exactly Cujo, or anything. (Well, maybe Spitz is.) So what gives? If we dismiss for a moment the possibility that it’s all just coincidence, it seems that we can take two approaches.

The first is that these offhand and abrupt acts of canine disregard are examples of the slightly anti-social lack of sentimentality that runs through all of Anderson’s work. Critics who dwell on the exacting, detailed artifice of his fictional worlds often overlook the deeply sinister undercurrents of violence and suicide that they contain. Maiming and death are just as central to Anderson’s vision of things as are all the precise costumes that his characters wear. Misfortune comes just as suddenly to dogs as it does to humans. By including the beloved dog in this condition of life, he reminds us that no one is safe.

Another way to look at it is that these dogs are most often punished as collateral damage of the moral and practical ineptitude of adults. Anderson recently mentioned in an interview with Terry Gross, that, like his two central characters in “Moonrise Kingdom,” he was considered by his parents to be a “troubled child.” (In the movie, Suzy finds a book entitled, “Coping with the Very Troubled Child,” which contributes to her decision to run away from home.) The irony is that everyone, old and young, is “troubled,” perhaps the adults most of all. In Anderson’s films, the idea that grownups can be role models to children is rendered absurd. So, by upending audience expectations about what fate will befall a dog, that symbol of American family wellness, Anderson reveals the fragility of families and the emotional threats that they pose to their members. Those Tenenbaum boys, at some point in their adult lives, might look back and recall, Remember when Dad’s strung out friend ran over Buckley? Talk about an unambiguous end to innocence.

Meanwhile, dog lovers can take some solace. It turns out that in real life, Snoopy—or Bella, as the ten-year-old dog is known to its Massachusetts owner—is pretty tough to kill. Last year, Bella was treated for skin cancer, and has made a full recovery. Some endings, at least, are happy ones.