Let's picture a table reading with Wes Anderson. I can see a bunch of old friends getting back together for the first day of school. They sit quietly. Then two of them glance up (usually Jason Schwartzman and Edward Norton), grinning at each other and they start throwing paper balls. Someone draws stylised genitalia (or even realistic genitalia, don't ask me why but Owen Wilson seems a pretty talented artist to me) on a colleague's script (I'd say Tilda Swinton's) and they laugh and giggle until long-haired Wes calls them all to order.
Okay, maybe this vision is way beyond every professional actor's imagination, but let's pretend it happened. And I bet it was just like that during the making of The Grand Budapest Hotel.
The events are introduced by The Author (inspired by the Austrian novelist Stefan Zweig), recalling a visit to the Budapest Hotel in the late 1960s, a decade in which its glory days are over. We follow the Young Author Jude Law meeting Zero Moustafa, the owner of the Budapest who's willing to tell him about his life and the reason why he doesn't want to close down the hotel. And that's when the real story begins.
Ralph Fiennes (he has the nose in this one) is Monsieur Gustave H., more than a concierge of a super luxurious hotel in the fictional Republic of Zubrowka in 1932. He makes sure everything's perfect and guests are happy, especially if they're needy and blonde. He also mentors Zero, the new shy lobby boy apprentice, starting sort of a friendship with him. But tragedy awaits. War is getting closer and it's not easy for anyone to pass the border. But this is little trouble for Gustave, more concerned about the mysterious death of one of his special guests, Madame D. She is found dead in her mansion and the concierge is convicted for murder, but ready to prove his innocence with the support of Zero and his girlfriend Agatha, who also happens to be a very crafty baker at Mendl's and will provide help in an unexpected way.
The film is extremely funny in that peculiar Anderson style we all know and love. Dialogues between Zero and Gustave are so witty and cynical it was hard for my armchair neighbours to watch themselves. There's also some average bloody scenes, cut off fingers and A LOT of dead bodies. And after all that, you're all craving for your happy ending, right? Well, you shouldn't. Moonrise Kingdom taught us it can't rain all the time and sun will always come up in the end and stuff like that. We all exited the theatre in a positive mood in some sense. Uh-uh. The Grand Budapest Hotel leaves you with some gracious sadness, if such a kind of sadness has ever existed. You find yourself thinking about the passing of time and how things change, sometimes not in a good way. You understand why the art of telling a story is important to keep people alive even if they're not and how you can be attached to places reminding you of what you loved the most. The best thing (which is my favourite thing in every Anderson movie) is that you don't even realize you're getting sad while watching. There could be blood, and death, and breaking up but all of these things together are presented in such a visual perfection and harmony you can't help yourself enjoying them and know they are right where they're supposed to be. Plus, you don't have time to get really desperate because you're too involved laughing at those wonderful lines and appreciate the perfect ensemble of characters written for the first time by Anderson alone.
It worths every penny of the 12.50 I spent to watch it. Anyway, if going to the cinema was a little less expensive in England I'd be a lot happier.
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