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Mary Tobin on The Grand Budapest Hotel

3/14/2014

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Shockingly violent yet uproariously funny, The Grand Budapest Hotel maintains the delightfully quirky, hyper-stylized, and other unmistakable marks of a Wes Anderson flick. However, it features characters in situations notably more tangible than his previous films. Packed with action, intrigue, miniature buildings, and young love, Wes has created a world I’m sure most would be excited to check-in to.

The Grand Budapest Hotel is a story within a story within a story within a story (much less confusing than it sounds) largely set in an imaginary yet familiar Eastern European nation between two wars in the 1930s. The film explores the adventures of a legendary concierge, Gustave H, and his trusted lobby boy, Zero Moustafa, in the Grand Budapest Hotel. Gustave H has a flair for rich, blonde, vain, older women and enjoys speaking in sumptuously sophisticated poetic prose. After one of his latest and longest trysts, Madame D. (Tilda Swinton), departs the hotel with a premonition of death, she is murdered. Gustave rushes to her and learns she willed him a priceless Renaissance painting called “Boy With Apple”. Her dysfunctional family is so furious that her two sons, Dmitri (Adrien Brody) and Joping (Willem Dafoe), end up knocking out Gustave and Zero at the reading of the will. Gustave is implicated soon in her murder by a man who is now missing and is taken to jail by a reluctant policeman, Henckels (Edward Norton). Madame D.’s lawyer, Deputy Kovacs (Jeff Goldblum), attempts to piece together her will under the watchful eye of her family, and Zero must employ his love interest, a baker named Agatha (Saoirse Ronan), to help Gustave escape from prison and clear his name. Chases on motorcycles, trains, sleds, and skis ensue as the adventures twist and turn in a hilarious fashion. 
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The all-star cast knocks it out of the park—though I suppose it’s hard to go wrong when you’re working with Ralph Fiennes, Tilda Swinton, Harvey Keitel, Adrian Brody, Jeff Goldblum, Willem Dafoe, Saoirse Ronan and F. Murray Abraham in addition to Anderson’s regulars Bill Murray, Jason Schwartzman, and Edward Norton. For the more refined Anderson fans, you’ll also notice two teen boys returning to Anderson’s set after playing minor roles in his last film, Moonrise Kingdom. With such star power behind each role, you might think it’d be hard to keep them all straight; but Wes doesn’t equate star power with screen time, keeping these wonderful performances in short quips.

As with every other Anderson film, familial discourse is the norm among characters; yet this film feels very different. Anderson provides a much lighter take on the issues underlying each character’s family life. I can’t help but think of a recent conversation I had with Boston Globe critic Ty Burr, during which he commented, “This is the first Wes Anderson movie that doesn't feel as if it's nursing a private wound.” The characters seem to take themselves much less seriously. Gustave speaks poetically, but at one point as he’s about to launch into an all-too-familiar diatribe, he instead says, “Oh, fuck it” and takes a drink. Anderson seems to replace his usual emotionally heavy scenes and moments, like suicide in The Royal Tenenbaums or abandonment in Moonrise Kingdom, with straight forward violence. This reflects the darkness of the previous and impending wars the story is sandwiched between—and Willem Dafoe plays the perfect villain.

Wes’s style is perhaps one of the most recognizable in cinema, and The Grand Budapest Hotel delivers a hilarious and enjoyable story with heart shrouded in just the right number of [probably model-size] clouds.

Grade: A
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