The Grand Budapest Hotel recounts, through several detailed layers, the story of Gustave H., a charming and loyal concierge, and his devoted lobby boy Zero Moustafa.
The Grand Budapest Hotel recounts, through several detailed layers, the story of Gustave H., a charming and loyal concierge, and his devoted lobby boy Zero Moustafa. Gustave is a Gatsby-esque character- doused in perfume, ornamented, seemingly extraverted, and rather breathtaking, but in a way just another lonely guy.
After running back and forth to meet the needs of his (always rich and/or important) clients and courting several older ladies, he delivers a long sermon-like speech to his staff and eats dinner in his small and shabby room, alone. (On a side note, this scene is a great example of Anderson’s use of juxtaposing contrasting colors)
Despite the fact that Zubrowka (where the hotel is located) is on the brink of war, Gustave ignores the conditions of the outside world and continues to lavishly pour over his guests. At one point the narrator says, “His world had vanished long before he ever entered it, but he certainly sustained the illusion with a remarkable grace.” This almost over-the-line sophisticated lifestyle takes a turn when he hears of the death of Madame H., one of the hotel’s guests and also one of his courters. An unexpected gift from the late Madame H. leads Gustave and Zero on run-ins with military police, a sled and ski chase, and in Gustave’s case, even jail.
The movie is remarkably “Wes Anderson,” but with a slight mature twist. His usual cast, Bill Murray, Owen Wilson, Jason Schwartzman, etc. all have small roles in various parts of the film (he started doing this a bit in Fantastic Mr. Fox, and really went out with it in Moonrise Kingdom), but none of these usual spotlight characters take on a huge responsibility. His incredibly detailed color scheme makes the switch from yellowish hues to pastel colors with hints of bold orange here and there. His humor is a little more dark and unexpected than his older films, yet has the same idea of splashing odd jokes in the most intense scenes. (be prepared for chopped off fingers and a little more)
Other than these minor yet impactful changes, Anderson’s emotionally stuffed characters remain similar; his older characters (Gustave) remain child-like and innocent, and his younger characters have an aged hue to them (Zero). His love of being incredibly detailed with minor props, as well as his fascination with miniatures and animations also remain alive and well.
You’ll also notice a screen-format switch – from full frame, to wide-screen, etc. The changing ratios are supposed to represent different time periods within the plot. This minor detail is hard for casual movie goers to catch, but it stands out as yet another tool in the Anderson cinematic war chest.
Renaissance paintings with fancy boarders, complex architecture, old-fashioned ways of traveling (matching 1930s suitcases, train cars, etc.), and exceptionally eye-pleasing sets (bird’s eye view, uses of line segments and right angles) are all included in this film, not to mention a cute little cake shop, a girl with a birthmark the shape of Mexico on her face, and some really kind-hearted inmates. The miniature of the exterior of the Grand Budapest Hotel is much like a combination of 111 Archer Ave. in The Royal Tenenbaums and the Belafonte in The Life Aquatic.
Like most Anderson movies, the story doesn’t end on a happy note, but doesn’t make you ball like a baby either. Unlike the other Anderson’s timeless, nostalgic movies, it seemed to have a history, or what Anderson imagined as European life before the war. The story, as stated in the film, is “inspired by the writings of Stefan Zweig,” an Austrian-Jewish writer who committed suicide in 1942, leaving a note mourning over the loss of “my spiritual home, Europe.” Anderson magnificently combines the perspective of someone who actually lived during the 30s with his imagination to create a work of fiction that, strangely, everyone can seem to relate to.
The Grand Budapest Hotel is typical Wes Anderson, but that’s what makes it so great. It’s like reading classical romantic fiction; you know it’s fake, you know basically what’s going to happen, you know the themes and symbols of the books because they’re basically all the same, but yet you can’t put it down because the story and the images described are too intriguing. Anderson is able to use his idiosyncratic charm and style in order to reveal the depths of human emotion and nostalgia that one would quite not be able to explain using only words. I highly recommend you go see it.
