The many films of Wes Anderson aren't just an acquired taste, they're often
so specific one wonders if they were meant for anybody other than Anderson
himself. That creative independence has led him to amass a huge
following, but for me his films have always been too idiosyncratic and
emotionally distant. While there's always been a certain love for the
antiquated in his films, that admiration for the old ways was best realized
when Anderson tapped into a certain childlike sense of wonder, giving us his most
creatively successful films:
Rushmore and
Moonrise Kingdom. And
now he's hit on the same beautiful sweet spot again in
The Grand Budapest
Hotel, a whimsical, confectionery delight filled with Old World charm and a
hint of sadness.
Sadness, in that Anderson clearly fancies himself a man "out of
time", a description later used to describe his lead character, the
refined hotel concierge M. Gustave. Played with suave, slightly sleazy
perfection by Ralph Fiennes, Gustave is a snobbish lout of impeccable demeanor
and manners. He's a character who would fit perfectly in the cultured comedies
of German director Ernst Lubitsch, from whom Anderson draws a clear
inspiration. Set mostly in the Lubitsch period of the early 1930s, the film
takes place in the fictional European country of Zabrowska, seen in pastoral
pinks and delicate storybook affectations that have become an Anderson
trademark. Anderson has become increasingly fascinated by the nostalgic look of
his films, weaving it more seamlessly into the fabric of his story. Here, in a
story set during a time of impending war, it allows for a fantastical twist on
history that is a dream to luxuriate in.
While the bulk takes place in the '30s, things actually begin in 1985 with
an author (Tom Wilkinson) recounting a story his younger self (Jude Law) was
told in the '60s by the hotel owner, Zero Mousafa (F. Murray Abraham). That
tale in flashback is where the story rests, when we meet Gustave and are
introduced to Zero, who back then was a refugee turned lobby boy and assistant.
Gustave is a perfectionist of the highest order, running a tight ship that
provides for everything his guests could want and need. But even then his
personal code of honor and ethics was something of an antiquated notion, and Gustave
the last of a dying breed. He's also a man who enjoys the company of many
women, the older and richer the better. When his favorite of these mistresses,
Madame D (Tilda Swinton, in some fantastic make-up), suddenly dies under
mysterious circumstances, she leaves Gustave a priceless painting, which
doesn't exactly make her surviving family very happy.
Anderson's loving detail doesn't just stretch to the design, but in the
construction of the many supporting characters. Bill Murray, Saoirse Ronan,
Edward Norton, Bob Balaban, Adrien Brody, Willem Dafoe, Jeff Goldblum, Harvey
Keitel, Lea Seydoux, Mathieu Amalric, Owen Wilson, and Jason Schwartzman play
small but vital roles, and it's amazing how they make these characters their
own in only a matter of moments. One of the film's joys is seeing how they all
fit into the natural order of Gustave's daily regiment, and we're content to
bask in that enjoyment right along with Anderson. It's only when the story
steers into screwball crime caper territory and ventures outside of the hotel's
doors that the pace comes to a crawl, and Anderson seems less enchanted by the
material. And as his interest slackens so does ours, and one can't help but
yearn for a return to the comforts of the hotel and its odd little assortment
of misfit characters and their antiquated notions. This is one of those
films with so many visual layers a repeat viewing is a must in order to catch
them all.
The mood eventually shifts, leaving behind the chicanery and taking on a
sadder note. As darkness looms, the hotel falls into disrepair and with it the
civil nature of men like Gustave. We get it, that Anderson sees his application
of and appreciation for classical techniques as out-of-step in a Hollywood that
no longer cares for such things. If he lays this message on a little thick,
darkening the mood a bit too much, it's at least yet another sign of why
Anderson is such an uncommon filmmaker. Exquisitely crafted, rich in detail and
meaning with a number of memorable characters, you'll never want to check out
of
The Grand Budapest Hotel.
