Directed by Wes
Anderson
9/10
You see there
are still faint glimmers of civilization left in this barbaric slaughterhouse
that was once known as humanity. Indeed, that’s what we provide in our own
modest, humble, insignificant… ah fuck it.
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Obviously enough, The
Grand Budapest Hotel looks exactly
like a Wes Anderson film. That disarming, cutesy-witty style of his, preserved
in its ideal state down to every last word and wrinkle. And every time you
think: but it shouldn’t work, those mannerisms, that suffocating dollhouse
perfection. And every time his masterful execution just wins you over. You
accept his rules, you have no choice.
The cast is breathtaking. Usual suspects (including,
yes, Bill Murray) mixed with new blood (Jude Law, Ralph Fiennes, Mathieu
Amalric, others). But while the acting is always impeccable
(Fiennes in particular is a portrait of solemn hilarity), you always get the feeling that these are no more than talented puppets, beautiful animated dolls in a Wes
Anderson show. And I mean that in the best possible sense.
The Grand
Budapest Hotel is like a weirded-out adventure
story for children. The usual, then. From shot one, Anderson places you into his world, and
this time it is a fictional country called Zubrowka. Eastern Europe, by the
looks of it. Gustave H (funny, kind, generous, odd), a concierge of one truly
striking and singular hotel, is framed for murder and is on the run. Lots of cute
characters and whimsical sequences along the way, nothing you would for a moment mistake
for reality. Most of the story takes place in the 1930’s, and you will be aware that
some bad stuff is going on outside, but the Nazis are a Mickey Mouse organization
and even the prison view is basically a postcard from Amsterdam.
Allegorical statements don’t really fit into a Wes
Anderson world, so instead enjoy it as a unique spectacle. The Grand Budapest Hotel is a genuine tale of kindness for insecure
adults with a strong sense of self-irony and taste.
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