Dir. Wes Anderson
USA, 2014
As a fervent Wes Anderson fan, I was disappointed by his latest film, The Grand Budapest Hotel. While no one ever wants to read a review that begins with a sentiment like that, I do have my reasons as to why I felt the film lacked his usual quirky eccentricity and mystique which has lead me to watch certain films of his over and over again. From what I've gathered from also fervent fans of his work, their disappointment was palpable as well, but for those just coming into his cinematic universe, The Grand Budapest Hotel was the perfect segue way into his expansive library.
The Grand Budapest Hotel is at its best an introductory course into Wes Anderson filmography. There's quirky characters, a doomed romance, the quick witted and idiosyncratic characters that fill the screen with their eccentricities, but what I found to be missing was that layer of depth, of consequence that can be found in Rushmore, The Royal Tenenbaums and The Life Aquatic. While these previous films do have the fantastical, absurdity of twee brilliance found in The Grand Budapest, they also have characters that are more than caricatures of themselves.
The cast, as always, is filled with Anderson's favorites, some newer than others: Tilda Swinton, Jason Schwartzman, Bill Murray, Adrien Brody as well as some new faces: Mathieu Amalric, Ralph Fiennes and Saoirse Ronan. The general plot is a series of flashbacks with a frame story. Jude Law, as a young writer, comes to the decrepit Grand Budapest and meets the aging owner of the establishment, played by F. Murray Abraham. Curious as to how he acquired his fortune, Abraham's character invites him to dinner and begins with his own meager start as a lobby boy under the guide of M. Gustave, the concierge at the time. The winding history follows the tragic murder of one of the hotel's most wealthy patrons and the accusation of M. Gustave's hand in her murder.
While at times the script is a farcical whodunit, the character development is weak at best and not representative of the era or plot at all. For example, Adrien Brody's character, a prodigal son set on getting his late mothers money, has dialogue that is neither period centric or character driven at all. It's anachronistic and unfounded. The relationships are also tenuous at best. Zero, the lobby boy, falls in love with Agatha, the bakers helper. The love between the two of them is supposed to be so strong that they get married in their preteenage years. However, the audience never learns how they meet or why they truly connect. There is just no build up to that.
The same can be said for the murder scenes. While the film is light and fluffy, the murder scenes are slapstick and silly. This might go along with the whole airy manner of the film, but does not make the audience think that any of the characters are in real danger. When the world war truly sets in on their hermetic town, things change but only slightly. You never see the full course of action driven by this change.
The only piece of this film that made me enjoy it was Ralph Fiennes' character and his acting. A mixture of good character development and good acting is what saved his character from the two dimensional fates of the others.
The Grand Budapest Hotel is a caricature of a Wes Anderson film. It has all the tell tale signs without any of the true payoff of his earlier work. It's aerated and cloy at best and only serves to add to his collection. The relationships are reluctant and forced and the character development, sans Fiennes, is lackluster and flippant. The reason why I enjoy Wes Anderson films is for the polemic archetypes of quirky eccentricity and lightness played against the seriousness and reality of characters who have stakes in a matter. It's only with that duality that I'm driven to care about what happens in the film. Grand Budapest made me an apathetic viewer, which, sadly, is not what any director wants.