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The Grand Budapest Hotel




The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014)
- 8


The setting jumps between four distinct periods; the most interesting to us is the most remote, in 1932. Eccentric Gustave H, prominent concierge at the Grand Budapest Hotel, and his newly employed lobby boy Zero Moustafa live the end of the hotel's golden age as the war approaches the state of Zubrowka. Both will get themselves in serious trouble after the mysterious death of Céline, one of the numerous love aberrations of Gustave. Among her voluminous heritage lies a valuable painting that was willed to Gustave--blasphemy for her family who won't take half-measures to reclaim what should be rightfully theirs. Gustave and Zero will jump on a risky and whimsical adventure until the conflict of interests is settled for the best and the worst. I think it's safe to describe this as the darkest Wes Anderson movie, darkly fun that is. Both for the story and the characters, especially the brutal cold-blooded killer J. G. Jopling, who has become one of my favorites in Wes filmography. Willem Dafoe can really put together a convincing killer act. This playfully eccentric, witty and darkly fun movie is among Wes' most expressive works, in my opinion. The Grand Budapest Hotel abounds with memorable scenes, dark humor and the deviant Gustave H might very well be the most iconic character in this mannerist universe, great acting from Ralph Fiennes. Steve Zissou is still my favorite goon, though. The Grand Budapest Hotel shows greater maturity and assertiveness from Wes, who has been granted with more sophisticated technical wizardry and casting quality in his latter works.

However, I'm left with a faint feeling that Wes may have reached the creative limits of his cinematic artifice. In the beginning, I was intrigued by the possibility that the four distinct settings and narrators could bring something new and substantial to the table, but that doesn't seem to be the case in my perception. Looking back, it almost seems like a simple technical gimmick to persuade the viewer that the movie holds more substance than it actually does. This is still the basic formula used in all Wes' movies, but this time enriched with a strong wistful flavor arising from the fact that the whole adventure is nothing more than the cherished memory of what was live and loved by Zero Moustafa--only this would justify a space-time transition, and only one would be enough. What's the point of four transitions? It seems redundant to me. The whole story is apparently read on the present by the girl in the a cemetery sitting just beside the grave of the book's author, but we barely become aware of it. Other than its darkly comical side, this could enhance even more the notion of distant or dreamlike past, in which case more development in the "sober" present would be desirable. Fortunately this wasn't a distraction per se; just a personal remark to explain my mixed feelings about the four settings and the ending. I found the whole movie very engrossing and entertaining; Wes is an expert of mood manipulation. I am very curious to see what he will do next. The Grand Budapest Hotel is Wes' sharpest mannerism. Highly recommended!