Director Wes Anderson has done it once again and crafted a beautifully intricate movie with The Grand Budapest Hotel. This artfully precise comedy is full of rapier-sharp wit, and Ralph Fiennes’s timing is note-perfect.
The Grand Budapest Hotel recalls the adventures of Gustave H. (Raph Fiennes), a famous concierge at a famous European hotel between the wars, and Zero Moustafa (Tony Revolori), a lowely lobby boy who becomes his most trusted confidant.
The story involves the theft and recovery of a priceless Renaissance painting and the battle for an enormous family fortune -all against the back-drop of a suddenly and dramatically changing Continent.
The movie is shown to us in three parts. Each flows seamlessly into the next. We start our journey in 1932. This is where we first meet our protaganist, a famous concierge known as Gustave H. He is the heart and soul of The Grand Budapest Hotel, a gigantic pink palace siutated on the top of a Mitteleuropean mountain range.
Things take an interesting twist when one of Gustave’s favouite guests, an 84-year-old widow called Madame Céline Villeneuve Desgoffe und Taxis (Tilda Swinton) passes away leaving her former lover a fmaily heirloom. A bust-up between Gustave and her money-grabbing family ensues and the adventure begins.
With his new young lobby boy Zero Moustafa in tow Gustave tries to outrun the Madam D’s family. Then the police get involved and all hell breaks loose. Along the way the seasoned pro educates his protégé in the ways of the hotel and sex.
Fiennes may seem like an unlikely choice for Anderson to have picked.But his performance is spot-on. It’s a side of Fiennes that we haven’t seen before and I hope we see much more of it because his performance is hilarious.
The supporting cast is made up of the usual Anderson ensemble players, Jeff Goldblum, Edward Norton as an apologetic police inspector called Henckels, and Willem Dafoe.
Watch the official movie trailer here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Fg5iWmQjwk.
Anderson doesn’t milk the nostalgia in thios movie, but in stead turns it on its head. The Grand Budapest Hotel is both Anderson’s most tightly wound and funniest film in years, lacking the melancholy charm of his previous film. but making up for it in comic timing.
By Ruth Walker