2014: #12

I had a grand plan to write about a bunch more movies for this post, but Q-Tip and Ali Shaheed Muhammed are out of cat food, and they eat this special stuff that only my vet carries, and my vet closes at 1 on Saturdays. Pretentious, right? Worry not, more later.

For now...

#12 The Grand Budapest Hotel

Is there such a thing as too much Wes Anderson? Is it possible to be Wes Anderson'd out?

That was my thought leaving the theater following  his latest, I felt like his elaborate set pieces and visual symmetry and quirky dialogue and quick pans and wide-angle lenses had all worked to smack me around and leave my head spinning. And don't get me wrong--Tenenbaums, Fantastic Mr. Fox and Moonrise Kingdom are all top-five finishers. The dichotomy of Anderson fandom is that you hope he pushes the envelope, branches out a little bit, but you ultimately go to see his movies because you know exactly what you're going to get.

In "Zubrowka" lies the Grand Budapest Hotel, a dream set for history-loving Anderson, full of lush carpets and chandeliers and big stairs and wealthy upper-crust socialites on vacation. We are first introduced to it in 1968 through the eyes of Author (Jude Law), who visits the once prominent resort to find it somewhat bleak and empty. There he meets Zero Moustafa (F. Murray Abraham), the owner of the hotel, who he convinces to tell his story about how it all came to be. This takes us back to World War I, where a teenaged, pencil-mustachioed Zero (Tony Revolori) works as the lobby boy for Gustave H (Ralph Fiennes), the sharp-talking concierge who is carrying on a relationship with the elderly Madame D (Tilda Swinton, in makeup and prosthetic). Fiennes' advice and mentoring of Zero are a thing of beauty as he loads him up with more and more responsibility. Shortly thereafter, Madame D has died back at her estate, and they travel there to be present for the reading of her will. In an amendment, her attorney says that her most valuable possession, a painting titled "Boy with Apple" is to be bequeathed to Gustave and not her son Dmitri (Adrien Brody). Refusing to wait for the matter to be investigated. Gustave and Zero take the painting off the wall (the painting they replace it with is the film's funniest sight gag) and run for it. From there the movie turns into a madcap caper, involving Dmitri's evil henchman (Willem Dafoe) and Inspector Henckels (Edward Norton) consistently tailing them, a prison break, vaults and lots of pastries.

This is a pretty great movie that would only be good were it not for the fantastic Ralph Fiennes. He is without a doubt one of my favorite actors working today, and as Gustave H, he carries the movie on his smarmy back, even in the moments when his confidence and charm are humbled. True, Anderson is in his comfort zone, in full auteur mode, but with the rest of the talented bunch (save Revolori) playing paperweight caricatures, it's only a bunch of pretty scenery without Fiennes.

Back with more later!