A solid Wes Anderson movie that's mostly carried by a brilliant comic performance by Ralph Fiennes.
As the final leg of our unplanned, incomplete return to Wes Anderson's movie catalog, my wife and I rewatched Grand Budapest Hotel for the first time since seeing it in the theater back in 2014. Before this, we had returned to The Darjeeling Limited, Rushmore, The Royal Tennenbaums, and The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou. Now, the itch has been fully scratched.
Grand Budapest is a chronologically layered tale, beginning in the 1980s and quickly jumping two levels backward into the past, ultimately landing in the 1930s for the majority of the film. There (and then), we follow M. Gustave, the famed concierge of the luxurious Grand Budapest Hotel, through a wild adventure involving an invaluable painting and the viciously greedy family that covets it, all set to the backdrop of a rising, Nazi-esque fascist movement throughout this fictitious segment of Europe. Helping Gustave much of the way is the hotel's eager bellhop and concierge-in-training, Zero (Tony Revolori).
This movie is arguably Anderson's most sweeping, romantic picture. At least, romantic in Wes Anderson's unique way. More than any other of his live-action pictures, Anderson constructed an entire world. Yes, it's based on familiar elements of pre-World War II Europe, but the setting feels more exotic and romantic than anything we've seen from him. On top of that, this is the only Anderson film that doesn't hinge on the dynamics of a dysfunctional family unit. Instead, we focus on a uniquely charismatic, if not exactly honorable, figure in Gustave. He is an extremely polished, charmingly eloquent, and amusingly immoral character whose great tragedy is only that his era is slowly slipping away. Bittersweetness is always a part of Wes Anderson's movies, but never before had he examined the bittersweetness of feeling oneself slowly and inexorably becoming an anachronism. And it is a hilarious and touching study.
As one might expect, all of Wes Anderson's gifts as a visual filmmaker are on display, perhaps more than any other movie. By the time Grand Budapest - his seventh full-length live-action movie - arrived, we knew to expect the meticulous and vibrant sets and costumes, and carefully considered cinematography. What really jumps out, though, is Ralph Fiennes's performance as Gustave. Anderson's movies have often featured memorable turns as his quirky and flawed characters: Gene Hackman as Royal Tennenbaum. Jason Schwartzman as Max Fisher. But Fiennes turns in what I think is the best main performance of any Wes Anderson movie. It can't be easy to make an immoral hedonist like Gustave so amiable, but Fiennes pulls it off. Part of this is the great script, but even more of it is Fiennes's ability to shift registers and emotional tones with incredible agility. One moment, he's using wonderfully flowery and elevated language to wax poetic and profound, and in a blink he gives up and drops a completely resigned, "fuck it." And you feel that sad "fuck it" right along with him. It's brilliant, touching, and hilarious, and it happens several times throughout the movie.
As much as any Wes Anderson movie, this one features countless great actors filling in major and minor roles, alike. There are plenty of Anderson film mainstays like Willem Dafoe, Jeff Goldblum, and Harvey Keitel. But we also get an early and memorable performance by a then-less-known Saoirse Ronan (Brooklyn, Ladybird) and a nice turn by Tony Revolori as Zero the diminutive bellboy, whose character is revealed to be made of far sterner and deeper stuff than we might initially believe.
This second viewing reminded me of how much I enjoyed this one when I first saw it. While it doesn't quite rise to the level of Rushmore or The Royal Tenenbaums among Wes Anderson's canon, in my mind, it's in that close second-tier along with The Darjeeling Limited. This is one that I would happily recommend to someone who has seen and enjoyed one or two of Anderson's other films, and I'm sure to return to it in the future.
As the final leg of our unplanned, incomplete return to Wes Anderson's movie catalog, my wife and I rewatched Grand Budapest Hotel for the first time since seeing it in the theater back in 2014. Before this, we had returned to The Darjeeling Limited, Rushmore, The Royal Tennenbaums, and The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou. Now, the itch has been fully scratched.
Grand Budapest is a chronologically layered tale, beginning in the 1980s and quickly jumping two levels backward into the past, ultimately landing in the 1930s for the majority of the film. There (and then), we follow M. Gustave, the famed concierge of the luxurious Grand Budapest Hotel, through a wild adventure involving an invaluable painting and the viciously greedy family that covets it, all set to the backdrop of a rising, Nazi-esque fascist movement throughout this fictitious segment of Europe. Helping Gustave much of the way is the hotel's eager bellhop and concierge-in-training, Zero (Tony Revolori).
This movie is arguably Anderson's most sweeping, romantic picture. At least, romantic in Wes Anderson's unique way. More than any other of his live-action pictures, Anderson constructed an entire world. Yes, it's based on familiar elements of pre-World War II Europe, but the setting feels more exotic and romantic than anything we've seen from him. On top of that, this is the only Anderson film that doesn't hinge on the dynamics of a dysfunctional family unit. Instead, we focus on a uniquely charismatic, if not exactly honorable, figure in Gustave. He is an extremely polished, charmingly eloquent, and amusingly immoral character whose great tragedy is only that his era is slowly slipping away. Bittersweetness is always a part of Wes Anderson's movies, but never before had he examined the bittersweetness of feeling oneself slowly and inexorably becoming an anachronism. And it is a hilarious and touching study.
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| M. Gustave in the foreground. Ralph Fiennes's performance here ranks among his very best, which is no mean feat for such an accomplished actor. Ronan and Revolori do excellent work here, as well. |
As much as any Wes Anderson movie, this one features countless great actors filling in major and minor roles, alike. There are plenty of Anderson film mainstays like Willem Dafoe, Jeff Goldblum, and Harvey Keitel. But we also get an early and memorable performance by a then-less-known Saoirse Ronan (Brooklyn, Ladybird) and a nice turn by Tony Revolori as Zero the diminutive bellboy, whose character is revealed to be made of far sterner and deeper stuff than we might initially believe.
This second viewing reminded me of how much I enjoyed this one when I first saw it. While it doesn't quite rise to the level of Rushmore or The Royal Tenenbaums among Wes Anderson's canon, in my mind, it's in that close second-tier along with The Darjeeling Limited. This is one that I would happily recommend to someone who has seen and enjoyed one or two of Anderson's other films, and I'm sure to return to it in the future.
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