Movie Review: ‘The Grand Budapest Hotel’

Ralph Fiennes plays a legendary hotel concierge in Wes Anderson’s ‘The Grand Budapest Hotel’ (20th Century Fox)

Even the most ardent detractor of the pressed collar world in which Wes Anderson operates will struggle to suppress the infectious brilliance of his latest slice of obscure life. Constructed with all of his signifiers and tropes in place, as well as a roll-call of familiar faces from his universe, it’s his best since The Royal Tenenbaums and easily the most accessible Anderson adventure so far. 

This is the story of a legendary concierge, Gustave H (Ralph Fiennes), and is told using a wraparound in which Jude Law’s current resident gets to meet the man who was at his side throughout this colourful escapade, contemporarily played by F. Murray Abraham, but more prominently in flashbacks by newcomer, Tony Revolori (better known as Zero the lobby boy). Together, and for the crux of the narrative, they must negotiate the dangers inherent in running the hotel, including the underhand scheming of Dmitri (Adrien Brody) and his cat-throwing henchman Jopling (Willem Dafoe), who are perturbed at not being left the hotel by deceased proprietor Madame D (Tilda Swinton). Taking in everything from the breakout of war (twice), the travails of young love, and a prison sentence, The Grand Budapest Hotel is full to the rafters.

There are few directors working today who piece together a film with the precision that Anderson does. Regardless of how emotionally detached some of his narratives may be, the way in which threads are stitched together in such a concise way, with nothing superfluous to the story, is a skill he has honed to perfection here. Not a frame is wasted, whether it be visually or with one of the brilliantly scripted lines of dialogue, or a combination of the two, this is a celluloid tapestry. 

It must be an actor’s delight to work within such a uniquely creative world, and as such the performances are terrific. Some are frustratingly fleeting – it’s hard to recollect what Bill Murray does during his couple of scenes, ditto Tilda Swinton – but that’s not surprising when the guest list is this vast and impressive. 

Fiennes proves that In Bruges wasn’t a one-off when it comes to comedy, and he translates the superb profanity of that performance into this schizophrenic role of heightened pomposity and hyperactivity. He revels in the character and it’s an absolute delight to watch. Revolori grows into the role, exuding that awkward sophistication so often seen in Anderson’s youngest characters, and it’s his relationship with Fiennes that provides the film with the heart that is supposedly so often missing with his films. 

Skirting the story, but making no less of an impact, are a wonderful gamut of deadpan performances: Harvey Keitel’s prisoner, Dafoe’s thug, Edward Norton’s police chief, Jeff Goldblum’s lawyer... the list is endless in this kaleidoscopic cast. 

Ambitious without the slightest sign of excess, gloriously twee, darker than you might imagine, and continuing a career trajectory of accessibility and creative integrity which might have seemed unimaginable whilst watching the polarising Life Aquatic, it goes without saying that you must reserve a room at The Grand Budapest Hotel post-haste.