The Grand Budapest Hotel

Wes Anderson is a director with his own world. I’ve seen his world a few times before and I never liked it as much as I did in this movie. It may have been caused by the atmosphere of the Second World War, but I rather think it was the absurdity as such, that the director toys with in this war. It’s a bit like Tarantino’s Inglorious Basterds, only in the far more distinctive and positive style of the director, which I’ll probably never forget. And I have to admit, after watching this movie, I immediately have a reason to watch all his other movies I’ve seen before, but also the ones I haven’t seen yet. That’s how much The Grand Budapest Hotel affected me. (10/06/2014)

This is my first encounter with the work of the cult director Wes Anderson. I must say that it was a pleasant meeting that invited me to explore more films from his workshop. The success of the film does not lie in the plot - if the backbone of the story were to carry a vertebrate, that poor thing would practically not move from its place. I don't know about elsewhere, but in this case, Anderson's strength lies in caricature and grotesque exaggeration. The director conceived his search for the source of the hotel owner's wealth as a fantasy retelling of the modern history of Central Europe from the prelude to World War I and the rise of fascism to the social changes resulting from the political movement to the left. The charm of The Grand Budapest Hotel also comes from the casting of episodic roles by famous faces from the world of acting and their use in atypical positions. For example, Tilda Swinton plays a decades-older character from a withered and shamelessly wealthy family clan, which seeks her life and property. The Grand Budapest Hotel is a series of comic characters, amusing gags, chases, and twisty situations, cleverly written and performed with an unmistakable charm. Overall impression: 80%. (05/06/2014)

In Anderson’s nostalgic and grotesque retro worlds, this one may be the most literal and gaudy, but at the same time it represents a (perhaps too) literal confession not only to its own protagonists, but to the filmmaker himself. “To be frank, I think his world had vanished long before he ever entered it. But, I will say, he certainly sustained the illusion with a marvelous grace.” (25/07/2014)

It all relies completely and solely on Wes Anderson’s direction. He manages to sell both special stabilization and an absurd story, but without him it’s “just" a tried and tested mishmash of (sometimes more, sometimes less) funny scenes. It’s not a boring movie, it’s playful, lively and has excellent actors. The problem is that we find innovation only in the trimmings, but not on the inside. Movie magic hiding yet another empty ode to an incredible life that just isn’t that entertaining anymore. (22/07/2015)

Wes and his animated woods, this time in a cabaret version of The World of Yesterday: Memories of a European. The film is best described by the quote dedicated to the main character: "His world came to an end long before he entered it." Unlike Zero, however, I seriously doubt that Anderson handles this paradox with grace. Unfortunately, I am already able to guess ahead of time the points and camera movements, and the cameos of the stars. The story is less inventive than Murder in a Parlor Car Compartment, and it's hard to tell if an alibi with nickel-and-dime novels will stand up (these are full of twists, which The Grand Budapest Hotel is not in its linear caricature). As soon as the enthusiasm for the artistically beautifully grasped retro faded away (if we can call a style retro that is freely reminiscent of something old, but does not even correspond to it), I found myself in a sequence of dynamic and loosely connected gags that float in an approximate intellectual goulash of references, paraphrases and winking. Anderson is so fascinated by the veneer of his toy industry that, when you finally make it to the melancholic finale, you are almost sorry that he has devoted so much time to characters and scenery that are beautiful but totally flat. The Grand Budapest Hotel captures an artist at the height of narcissism, who misses what is really interesting under the influx of colorful props and grotesque gags. No doubt more fun than the desperately overrated Moonrise Kingdom, but otherwise similarly meaningless. (28/02/2014)