2) The Grand Budapest Hotel
Wes Anderson has always been a virtuoso of the visual arts, bringing to his films a striking symmetry and such distinctive use of color that many consider him to have created a directorial style unto himself. But The Grand Budapest Hotel finds the director’s storytelling brio catching up to his unique visions – it’s by far his most mature, engaging and thought-provoking work to date. And even with such films as Rushmore, The Royal Tenenbaums and Moonrise Kingdom in Anderson’s rear-view, I can say with absolute certainty that it’s his best.
Set in the fictional European nation of Zubrowka, in which the threat of war hangs heavy as a storm cloud, The Grand Budapest Hotel is at once an elegantly zany caper and a tragic meditation on the temporality of life. Anderson strikes the balance with dexterity. And in hotel concierge Gustave H. (Ralph Fiennes) and lobby boy Zero (Tony Revolori), he’s created two of his loveable and intriguing characters. Watching the pair galavant across Zubrowka in hopes of proving Gustave’s innocence in the murder of elderly hotel guest Madame D. (Tilda Swinton, hilariously unrecognizable), encountering all manner of imposing henchmen, wacky ski chases and hidden societies in the process, is the most wildly entertaining cinematic experience of the year.
Enough can’t be said about how marvelous Fiennes is in the lead role. Gustave is an inspired creation, a silver-tongued rapscallion with a heart of gold, and the actor nails every single nuance of his complex personality. Fiercely intelligent, free-spirited, promiscuous, unflappable and irrepressible, he’s a flesh-and-blood representation of all the vibrant art and culture that the brutality of war seeks to snuff out. We see him through Zero’s worshipping eyes, as a god among men seemingly gifted with immortality. Anderson reminds us, though, that all life must come to an end – that’s why the film is the typically lighthearted director’s most mature to date.
The Grand Budapest Hotel is best described a twelve-level layer cake, filled with sumptuous characters, delectable dialogue and absolutely exquisite images. It’s the most extravagant and appetizing dessert of the year, candy-colored and filled with moments of pure magic.
Anderson doesn’t let viewers get away with just eating the sweets, though. He adds in somber truths about war and death, sweeping statements about the temporary nature of peace and happiness, ideas that the director wouldn’t have dared broach just a few films ago. As a step forward for Anderson, The Grand Budapest Hotel is giant. He’s sharper, harsher and smarter behind the camera than ever before. The film is a masterpiece – there’s no question about that. What’s also thrilling, though, is the notion that this is Anderson’s first, and now that he’s come into his own, he may have many more to come.
