By Jake Howell jake.howell@utoronto.ca

The Torontonian Reviews: THE GRAND BUDAPEST HOTEL

budapest1Having continuously refined his style to the point where it is now immediately identifiable, Wes Anderson’s The Grand Budapest Hotel sees the American auteur’s signature meticulousness at its highest level of detail and affectation, and fans of his work will know that that is a Very Good Thing. If you’ve previously found these affectations to be pretentious instead of cute, you may be out of luck here; otherwise, this picture is very, very funny. Speaking strictly in terms of dialogue, it’s clear that Hotel’s Ralph Fiennes is to Wes Anderson as Christoph Waltz is to Quentin Tarantino, which is another way of saying that both directors have found the perfect actor to deliver their stilted monologues with comedic panache.

The Grand Budapest Hotel frames its narrative like a Matryoshka doll, nesting the main story inside two other ones. At the top of the film is a girl clutching a book with the same title as the movie; coincidentally, this book tells about an author’s (Jude Law) fateful dinner with Zero Moustafa, who at a much younger age was the lobby boy to flamboyant hotel proprietor Gustave H. (Fiennes) in the 1930s. A caper surrounding a fictional painting brings Gustave and Zero closer together as friends, and we watch with pleasure as the two pair up to investigate the murder of Madame D. (Tilda Swinton) and the sensitive matter of her estate. Like Moonrise Kingdom before it, the latter half of the film proceeds to break loose and gain speed, toppling Anderson’s house of cards with precise theatricality.

17-the-grand-budapest-hotel-2As we slip between the present to the past (1960s) to the older past (1930s), Anderson opts to switch between three distinct aspect ratios. Whether or not this accomplishes anything artistically productive will be up to you; personally, it’s kind of neat to watch a film primarily viewed in 1.33. Ultimately, however, the decision to shoot each timeline differently echoes the same obsessive rigidity seen elsewhere in Anderson’s ordered chaos, and in that sense it works. The aspect ratio is just one element to the film’s magnificent production design, which riffs on 1930s history and holds some gorgeous, striking set pieces. It’s a lot of fun to fall into.

If over his filmography Anderson’s characteristically juvenile protagonists have slowly matured or simply become smarter, it is an aspect of his authorial style that has evolved for the better. Fiennes’ Gustave H. is an excellent Anderson archetype; his snippy air of superiority is undercut by a childish sensitive side, and the contrast is typically very humorous and witty. Fiennes does an impeccable job with the material here, which is long-winded but very quotable. Similarly, it will be well-deserved when Tony Revolori, the young actor playing Zero Moustafa in the 1930s, enjoys a break-out following Hotel.

For every casting decision The Grand Budapest Hotel gets right, though, it would seem that one of the biggest things holding Anderson back is his insistence to work with the same pool of actors. Edward Norton, Jason Schwartzman, Owen Wilson, Adrien Brody, Bill Murray, Jeff Goldblum—it’s not that these players aren’t great in most everything they do (Anderson’s past films included), but the American accents peppered throughout this movie seem out of place, too self-referential, and perhaps a little lazy. Each of these actors are suitable, but the rich, textured accents heard here by Ralph Fiennes, Mathieu Amalric, and Léa Seydoux remind that the American cameos could have been better than just “fine” or “okay” in a movie set in a fictional European country, and I’m wondering if Wes Anderson is limiting himself by playing the family reunion game with each outing.

Still, the casting here is a minor issue—these are cameos, after all. Everything else about The Grand Budapest Hotel is so finely tuned that if you don’t enjoy it, it’s unlikely because of an underwhelming script, miscalculated pacing, or anything else that generally poisons a production. Rather, this feature is one of the rare, justifiable examples of filmmaking where you can point to one person and feel entirely comfortable blaming solely them, claiming that his approach just isn’t your cup of tea.

If Anderson’s fastidiousness isn’t your thing, I’d nevertheless make a point of seeing this film anyway. What is most interesting (and important) about his work is that even his weakest features include things relatively forgotten in American cinema, like a mastery of mise-en-scène, engaging camera pans and tracking, and dollhouse master shots. I am more or less tired of the tautological maxims offhandedly summarizing Anderson’s career (paraphrased as “Wes Anderson makes Wes Anderson movies”) but admittedly, Hotel is his most recognizable work to date. Fortunately, it’s also one of his grandest.

One Response to “The Torontonian Reviews: THE GRAND BUDAPEST HOTEL”

  1. mike says:

    I don’t think it’s right to say that Wes Anderson has “continuously refined his style to the point where it is now immediately identifiable”. Rather, it was immediately identifiable right out of the gate. Almost miraculously so. He’s never made a film you could mistake for any other director.

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From AMPAS president John Bailey:

Dear Fellow Academy Members,

Danish director Carl Dreyer’s 1928 film “The Passion of Joan of Arc” is not only one of the visual landmarks of the silent era, but is a deeply disturbing portrait of a young woman’s persecution in the face of the male judges and priests of the ruling order. The actress Maria Falconetti gave one of the most profoundly affecting performances in the history of cinema as the Maid of Orleans.

Since the decision of the Academy’s Board of Governors on Saturday October 14 to expel producer Harvey Weinstein from its membership, I have been haunted not only by the recurring image of Falconetti and the sad arc of her career (dying in Argentina in 1946, reputedly from a crash diet) but of Joan’s refusal to submit to an auto de fe recantation of her beliefs.

Recent public testimonies by some of filmdom’s most recognized women regarding sexual intimidation, predation, and physical force is, clearly, a turning point in the film industry—and hopefully in our country, where what happens in the world of movies becomes a marker of societal Zeitgeist. Their decision to stand up against a powerful, abusive male not only parallels the cinema courage of Falconetti’s Joan but gives all women courage to speak up.

After Saturday’s Board of Governors meeting, the Academy issued a passionately worded statement, expressing not only our concern about harassment in the film industry, but our intention to be a strong voice in changing the culture of sexual exploitation in the movie business, already common well before the founding of the Academy 90 years ago. It is up to all of us Academy members to more clearly define for ourselves the parameters of proper conduct, of sexual equality, and respect for our fellow artists throughout our industry. The Academy cannot, and will not, be an inquisitorial court, but we can be part of a larger initiative to define standards of behavior, and to support the vulnerable women and men who may be at personal and career risk because of violations of ethical standards by their peers.

Yours,
John

.“People that are liars — lying to his wife, to his children, to everyone — well, they have to turn around and say, ‘Who stabbed me?’ It’s unbelievable that even to this moment he is more concerned with who sold him out. I don’t hear concern or contrition for the victims. And I want them to hear that.”
~ Bob Weinstein