Wes Anderson is known for making the
kind of film you will like if you like his kind of film. Starting
with “Bottle Rocket” and “Rushmore,” his storytelling has
relied on exaggerated, even bizarre characters. As he moved into the
years of “The Royal Tenenbaums” and “The Life Aquatic with
Steve Zissou,” his characters, costumes, and backgrounds became
increasingly weird. Anderson's is a world of bright, primary colors
and bright, primary people. Everything is so removed from real life
that at times it is hard for me to get invested. His films remain
watchable, however, due to his sense of humor and his compassion for
the absurdity of the human condition.
“The Grand Budapest Hotel” is very
much a Wes Anderson movie, and you can largely predict whether you
will like it based on your response to his other films. This belongs
in the top half of his works, largely due to excellent work by Ralph
Fiennes, who plays Monsieur Gustave, the perfectionist concierge of
the titular hotel. M. Gustave demands the best from himself and his
staff, taking time off from his work only to bed the rich, elderly
women who frequent the hotel. He isn't a gold-digger. He seems to
view making love to these women as part of providing the absolute
best experience for clients of the Grand Budapest. In any event, he
likes older women. As he explains to his young protege, Zero (Tony
Revolori), “When you're young, it's all steak filet, but when you
get older you have to go for the cheaper cuts, which, anyway, I find
more flavorful.”
When one of these wealthy dowagers
dies, leaving M. Gustave a priceless painting, he is thrust into a
web of intrigue with her greedy children (including Adrien Brody), an
assassin (Willem Dafoe), and the police (including Ed Norton).
Gustave is framed for the woman's murder, escapes with fellow
prisoner Harvey Keitel, then crisscrosses the country to prove his
innocence.
“The Grand Budapest Hotel” is
action-packed, but it is the kind of brightly-colored, Keystone Cop
action that dominates Anderson's movies. I was rarely on the edge of
my seat. The action and characters were too cartoonish for me to
suspend disbelief. I couldn't shake the feeling that all these
excellent actors had gotten together for a dinner party, raided the
closets for costumes, and were putting on a silly play for the
entertainment of the other guests.
The real charm of the film is its
story-within-a story framework. The movie starts with a young woman
approaching the grave of a famous writer, then sitting down to read
one of his books. That book is “The Grand Budapest Hotel,” and
in it the writer describes how he visited the hotel in its decline
and met its mysterious owner, Mr. Moustafa (F. Murray Abraham).
Moustafa is the aged Zero, and he relays to the writer the tale of
his adventure with M. Gustave, who wound up owning the hotel and
ultimately passing it on to his loyal protege Zero/Moustafa.
Intertwined with the tale is the tragic story of Mr. Moustafa's one,
great love. Having these characters look back on the story from
different perspectives over the decades lends the tale a poignancy
that belies its cartoonish look. In this light, the stylized look of
the film represents the way our memories look to us, and these
tragicomic characters seem very real and beautifully human.
3.5 stars out of 5
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