Tilda Swinton in The Grand Budapest Hotel (Fox Searchlight Pictures)

Tilda Swinton in The Grand Budapest Hotel (Fox Searchlight Pictures)

Written & Directed by Wes Anderson, based on a story by Anderson & Hugo Guinness,
Produced by Wes Anderson, Scott Rudin, Steven Rales & Jeremy Dawson
Released by Fox Searchlight
UK/Germany. 100 min. Rated R
With Ralph Fiennes, F. Murray Abraham, Mathieu Amalric, Adrien Brody, Willem Dafoe, Jeff Goldblum, Harvey Keitel, Jude Law, Bill Murray, Edward Norton, Tony Revolori, Saoirse Ronan, Léa Seydoux, Jason Schwartzman, Tilda Swinton, Tom Wilkinson & Owen Wilson

Love ’em or hate ’em, Wes Anderson’s movies are meticulous as he brings to life his cartoonish characters and style-infused universe. You may find his work overly precious and affected, but there’s no denying the stamp of authorship. The Grand Budapest Hotel is no exception but a continuation of his stylistic tendencies—a self-obsessed main character who dreams big and leads a ragtag group of misfits on a mission, sumptuous production design, quaint model sets, symmetrically-composed camera shots, flash pans, etc. While not a major advance or surprise for the filmmaker, it is a solidly witty, sweet, visual treat that only he can provide.

Primarily set in the 1930s in an imaginary European country, Zubrowka, Gustave H. (Ralph Fiennes) is the fastidious head concierge at the famed Grand Budapest Hotel.  His attention to detail and service is unparalleled and extends to sleeping with and caring for its elderly, rich female clientele. Eighty-four-year-old Madame Céline Villeneuve Degoffe und Taxis (Tilda Swinton) is among his lovers, and when she passes away, there is a dispute over her large fortune. Gustave and his trusty protégé, Zero (Tony Revolori), make off with her most valuable painting, leading to a stint in jail, murder, high-speed chases, and romance. The police want Gustave for theft and murder and the Madame’s family want him dead, all against the backdrop of Europe on the brink of war.

Anderson’s usual players make delightful appearances big and small—from Bill Murray and Jason Schwartzman having minor roles to Edward Norton playing the captain of the military police. Willem Dafoe is his sinister best as a Nosferatu-like murderous associate. F. Murray Abraham plays an elderly Zero, recounting the tale to a talented writer (Jude Law), and  Tom Wilkinson is the older version of the writer, telling the story within a story within a story. It’s all very calculated and self-conscious and it works. It’s like a well-constructed Russian doll with humor, sweetness, and adventure at the core. But while this film is a success, one wonders if the filmmaker has plateaued. Perhaps that’s unfair as he’s making very enjoyable, highly stylistic pieces. At some point, though, I, for one, would like to feel deeper, more mature emotions.