Review: Wes Anderson's "The Grand Budapest Hotel"

It's safe to assume that any filmmaker with a recognizable stamp on their work is going to have both avid fans who connect with the way they tell stories and vehement detractors who don't. For Wes Anderson, the man behind Moonrise Kingdom, The Royal Tenenbaums, and Rushmore, each new film seems to widen that gap between the extremes, and it's easy to understand why. As someone who enjoys all of Anderson's work, even I would agree that his films are becoming more elaborate and his style more pronounced.

His latest feature, The Grand Budapest Hotel, is the delightfully manic tale of a hotel concierge who is framed for murder. Of course, nothing that simple could adequately explain the plot of a Wes Anderson picture, or its cast of characters and caricatures, so we begin in 1985, as a writer (Tom Wilkinson) is recording an interview about his book, "The Grand Budapest Hotel." Insisting that the book is based on real events, the writer begins to recall how, in 1968, his younger self (Jude Law) was regaled by the story, which came directly from the hotel proprietor, Mr. Moustafa (F. Murray Abraham). While we spend very little time in 1985 -- a section whose purpose will only come into focus at the very end of the movie -- the 1968 portion lovingly lingers, and is periodically returned to throughout the picture. Law and Abraham have an easy chemistry, and Jason Schwartzman, an Anderson regular since he made his debut in Rushmore, shows up for a spell in this section also.

Over dinner in a mostly-empty and slightly run down version of the hotel, Mr. Moustafa's story transports us back to an unspecified time in the mid-1930's. The Grand Budapest was still in her glory then, full of candy colors and bustling with energy. Young Zero Moustafa (Tony Revolori) is a newly-hired lobby boy under the charge of the hotel's indelible concierge, Monsieur Gustav, played with equal parts poise and gusto by Ralph Fiennes. Gustav provides that personal touch for each guest, particularly the very wealthy, elderly blonde women, whom he frequently beds -- his penchant for the "more seasoned" yields some hilarious moments. Zero's hard work gains the respect of Gustav, and the concierge takes him under his wing, going so far as to interview a potential girlfriend, Agatha (Saoirse Ronan), confectioner at the local bakery, before offering his blessing to their relationship.

Word reaches Gustav that one of his most treasured guests and lovers, the 84-year old Madame D. (Tilda Swinton) has died suddenly. His lobby boy in tow, Gustav leaves immediately to pay his respects, only to discover that the heiress'  priceless renaissance painting, "Boy With Apple" has been bequeathed to him. Fearing Madame's fascist son, Dmitri (Adrien Brody) and his henchman Jopling (Willem Dafoe) would never let him leave with the painting, Gustav and Zero secretly take "Boy With Apple," and rush back to The Grand Budapest. Just as soon as he can hide the painting, however, the authorities arrive to inform him that Madame was poisoned and that he is under arrest for murder. And, we're off and running...

It may seem like there's a lot of story to get through before the situation gets hairy, but things happen fast and Fiennes is absolutely on fire. Nothing he's done previously will prepare you for just how good he is in a thirties-style screwball comedy. The supporting cast (including Bill Murray, Owen Wilson, Jeff Goldblum, Edward Norton, and Harvey Keitel among others) is terrifically cartoonish as well, passing into and out of the story through a series of jailbreaks, snowbound chases, secret societies, fistfights, gunfights, and murder. My only complaint would be that very few characters, save for Gustav and Zero, appear for more than a scene or two, and one sequence in particular, The Society of the Crossed Keys, felt like it existed solely to squeeze in more cameos. A minor quibble, but a quibble nonetheless.

As always, the technical credits for costume, art direction, production design, and set decoration are top notch, as well as Alexandre Desplat's musical score, which perfectly compliments the onscreen antics. Perhaps Anderson's most important collaborator, however, is cinematographer Robert Yeoman, who has photographed all of Anderson's live-action films. For Budapest, they chose to shoot the bulk of the film in the more boxy, period-accurate aspect ratio of 4:3. It's kind of amazing that Anderson is able to wrangle this goof troop into the smaller frame, but it suits his meticulous visual style just right, with each image carefully composed and constructed, jam-packed with color and depth and visual gags. Anderson also uses rear-screen projection, matte paintings, miniatures, and stop-motion animation -- all techniques of the day -- recreating the tactile quality of films from yesteryear.

I suppose the reason Anderson's popularity gets under the skin of so many is because they feel all the hullabaloo exists for work that isn't especially deep or thought-provoking. They're self-obsessed, goofy films by a director whose influences include Monty Python, The Marx Brothers, and Howard Hawks, among others. Well, I'd say that's some good, no, GREAT quality stuff to emulate, and while perhaps not "deep," there's always an emotional truth or two to glean from each new Anderson experience. Speaking for myself only, I'll take a movie like The Grand Budapest Hotel over ten summer blockbusters, and I LOVE summer blockbusters. There's just a charm and a wit and a level of precision to Anderson's work that is truly unique, not unlike Monsieur Gustav himself.