THE GRAND BUDAPEST HOTEL

The Data Points

• Year Released: 2014

• Runtime: 100 Minutes

• Directed: Wes Anderson

• Produced: Wes Anderson, Scott Rudin, Steven Rales, Jeremy Dawson

• Starring: Ralph Fiennes, F. Murray Abraham, Saoirse Ronan, Tony Revolori

• Oscars:

• Won: Best Costume, Best Makeup/Hairstyling, Best Score, Best Production Design

• Nominated: Best Picture, Best Director, Best Cinematography, Best Editing, Best Original Screenplay

• IMDb Plot Summary: A writer encounters the owner of an aging high-class hotel, who tells him of his early years serving as a lobby boy in the hotel's glorious years under an exceptional concierge.

Why The Grand Budapest Hotel is Great

Wes Anderson’s story and tone. After breaking onto the scene with Bottle Rocket in 1996, Wes Anderson developed a cult following for his films that steadily grew into the mainstream over the course of the last 20 years, and while his visual style has become trademarked, his storytelling style is worth noting as well. His protagonists are often men experiencing some sort of existential crisis, who can be obsessive over the tiniest details in life, and his stories often involve a plan/heist/crime that goes hilariously awry. The crises his characters face is remarkably human, and when he takes time in his stories to explore them, the emotions he conjures up in the silliest of settings with the goofiest of characters are quite poignant. In Grand Budapest, he presents his most fascinating narrative yet; there are technically four timelines, all overlaying each other with voiceover, but the primary two (1930’s and 1960’s) are speaking directly to each other through Zero’s ruminations on the passing of time and the memory of Gustave H. As such, there is the slightest undercurrent of melancholy during the 1930’s scenes that hangs in the atmosphere of the 1960’s – this allows for great tension during the ‘30’s scenes, as we understand that only Zero survives the story.

Despite Anderson’s usual calling cards all over the script, he still manages to flex into different genres; this movie feels like it operates in several at once, especially mystery, period piece, comedy, and drama. As is the case with his best work (and this is his very best), he successfully sends up the genre he’s operating in while clearly expressing his love for it and crafting visually fresh sequences. His dry humor is all over the script, but this is also his fastest-paced story yet; typically, he would draw some scenes out in the name of his sense of humor, but in this case the jokes come fast and furious, but it all feels like a natural part of character building, which he does spectacularly. In such a lean runtime, he’s able to establish a set of unforgettable characters, tell a fun and engaging story, get a little philosophical, and sweetly, gently, break your heart.

Wes Anderson’s production. Beginning with The Royal Tenenbaums in 2001, Wes Anderson developed a reputation of being a control freak with his productions; looking at the finished product, it’s easy to see why. He frames his shots to be perfectly symmetrical, employing tightly controlled zooms, lateral tracking shots, and perfect whip-pans to keep the viewer in his hands. What’s even more impressive, however, is how he exercises his control over the physical production design. His sets are perfectly manicured to build the world, express character, and generate his quirky, bittersweet mood. In the case of the Grand Budapest, this is expressed through his elaborate sets detailed to the finest point, and vibrant pastel colors. The effect here is palpable; not only does the film look great, as great films should, but every time we jump from the 30’s back to the 60’s, the lack of color becomes ever more apparent. Additionally, the purple uniform of the Grand Budapest seems like the perfect natural extension of M. Gustave’s character. He is flamboyant, refined, yet often hilariously out of place. And the instant we see him onscreen, we implicitly get a sense of this without even realizing we’re being communicated to.

Wes Anderson’s cast. Like a fanatic collecting baseball cards, Wes Anderson finds ways to keep growing the list of talented actors that he works with, but then maintains his collection with every subsequent film he makes; I have no idea how he gets people like Matheiu Almaric, Lea Seydoux, Bill Murray, Owen Wilson, Jason Schwartzman, Adrien Brody, and Tilda Swinton to show up for like 5 minutes in this movie, but I’m over the moon that he does. My favorite of these star-studded cameos has to be Harvey Keitel as Ludwig; shirtless, covered in crappy tattoos, and (like the best of this movie) lovingly sends up the “hard-boiled prisoner looking to escape” trope. Jeff Goldblum brings the right kind of silly weird, Willem Dafoe brings the right kind of self-aware menacing weird, and Ed Norton brings the right kind of quirky gentle weird. Tony Revolori was lovely as the younger Zero, and I’m bummed he hasn’t gotten more significant roles since then; I’m in your corner, kid. This might be one of the final performances that Saoirse Ronan gave before becoming the superstar she is today, and I’m always delighted to see the best actress under 30 in anything; she’s able to conform to and elevate the mood of the film perfectly, react to her co-stars, and give Agatha the sense of inevitable tragedy that is set up earlier. It’s important to note that the ‘60’s section is essentially just a conversation between Jude Law and F. Murray Abraham, and if you ever need a reason to remind yourself why they’re both great at what they do, just pull up a highlight reel of their scenes together. I’ll wait.

Of course it’s Ralph Fiennes who gives the best performance. M. Gustave is one of the most delightful, unique, eccentric, and fully-realized characters I’ve ever seen on screen. Like the best of Anderson’s protagonists, he’s frequently the butt of the joke, charismatic, a master of their quirky trade, yet shot through with a small yet poignant dose of tragedy. Fiennes owns the dialogue he’s given, but commits to giving the physical performance required to bring this character to life; look at what he does with his face, his voice, and the way that he runs. I do not think this film would work without him, and its success is due as much to him as anyone.

Wes Anderson’s technical collaborators. Even though Anderson is the primary visionary behind this film, even he can’t do it alone. Alexandre Desplat won a well-deserved Academy Award for his fantastic score of the film that brings the themes to brilliant life, which is smartly contrasted against Anderson’s tightly-controlled visuals to create an absorbing experience. Robert D. Yeoman’s cinematography is something of a miracle, as he doesn’t just execute on Anderson’s vision for multiple aspect ratios and camera moves, but fully captures the vibrant pastel color palette while also creating old-timey, smoky visuals. Despite not regularly working with Anderson, Barney Pilling edits the hell out of this movie, making him responsible for lining up the pacing of the reaction shots with the fast and funny dialogue, but letting his characters also give longer monologues completely unbroken; the edits also match the score for an immaculately crafted watching experience.

Legacy. The consensus seems to be that this is Wes’s best film; I guess we’ll wait to see if The French Dispatch is any better when it hits theaters this October. It was also his most commercially successful, but in this climate, I worry he won’t be able to replicate its success. I’ve never heard anybody say anything bad about this film, however, which is quite special. Taking some vibes/sequences from classics like The Third Man and Torn Curtain, making something original out of them, and getting audiences of varying ages to buy in is no small feat; we don’t get movies as special as this very often, which is something that the movie itself feels acutely aware of. This is Anderson’s love letter to people who love what they do, but whose passion and careers of choice are becoming rarer by the day. As a lover of movies, I feel some kinship with M. Gustave, whose “world probably stopped existing before he was even in it” when it comes to stuff like this. There are, however, still faint glimmers of civilization left in this barbaric slaughterhouse that was once known as humanity. Indeed, that’s what I provide in my own, modest, humble, insignificant – oh, f*ck it.

John’s Highlight Reel

• Opening. You know within like 2 seconds that you’re watching a Wes Anderson movie, and he demands that you meet him and his work on his terms. This film features a rather confusing multi-timeline opening before slowing down in the ‘60’s section, which is when the film’s story as we know it really begins. However, starting in the present day with someone who’s reading a book of the story we will later see makes us question what of Zero’s story the author would later embellish. Additionally, it reminds us that the wonderful world we have yet to experience will be lost to time, and we won’t forget it as we get fully ensnared in the heyday of the hotel.

• Reading the Will. This scene does a couple of key things: establish our story’s conflict, and establish just how damn funny this movie will consistently be. Anderson’s sense of humor is expressed through his visual style in some fantastic ways, my favorite of which is how Gustave and Zero’s costumes contrast with not just the other guests, but with literally the mansion itself.

• Prison. If you haven’t given yourself over to the charm of the movie yet, I have no hope for you; this set of scenes is amazing. The set of the Grand Budapest is wonderful, but I think some of my favorite use of color happens here, as well as my favorite jokes. If “fish out of water” is even remotely funny to you, then you’ve gotta love “flamboyant Gustave in prison”.

• Agatha. It’s not just the comedy that I love in this movie; in about 60 seconds, Anderson is able to convey the sweet simplicity of young love wrapped in melancholy; Desplat’s score does an awful lot more lifting than you realize, but the distance that Anderson keeps us at makes Saoirse’ closeup, backlit by carnival lights, breathtaking.

• The Society of the Crossed Keys. This is one of the sequences I return to the most on YouTube to remind myself of how simply joyful movies can make me. All we’re seeing is a smartly constructed montage of patterned shots, showing different concierges in different-colored hotels and uniforms, but when it’s right it’s so damn right. It’s so satisfying to see perfectly framed shots, perfectly aligned color schemes resulting in a perfectly paced montage with perfectly building music that I get giddy when I see it.

• Gablemeister’s Peak. Remember what I just said about perfect patterns? Yeah, it’s still true here, but it’s vastly more comedic this time around; the editing is also perfect. I think my favorite aspect of this scene, which only Anderson could pull off, is that as the music builds it gradually goes from non-diegetic (meaning it exists outside the story and only the audience can hear it) to diegetic (a part of the story) without missing a beat, changing tone, or us even realizing it’s happening as our main characters reach the summit with the chanting monks.

• Climax. Including the fake Nazi invasion of the fake European country is a fascinating subplot that becomes increasingly relevant to the central plot as the film goes before finally intertwining the two in this scene. Dmitri is revealed to be a “Nazi” collaborator and the hotel is being used as barracks for the troops, leading to some great cat-and-mouse where the stakes never feel too high, but the threat of death is constant for Agatha and Gustave. After some great physical comedy and wry staging, we zip through the happy endings that our characters deserve.

• Epilogue. Alas, the happy ending is only temporary. Our time in the ‘30’s ends in stark black-and-white, and the tragic fates of our characters are revealed using voiceover. We don’t get to return to the comedy we were originally treated to when we return to the ‘60’s, as the melancholy tone permeates the remainder of our time there. As we progress back to the present day and the start of the film, we stay in this mood, elevating what was a perfectly crafted film into one capable of touching all corners of our hearts.