Movie Review: The Grand Budapest Hotel

I’m not a part of the Wes Anderson cult but when he’s really good (like in his masterpiece “Rushmore” or “The Fantastic Mr. Fox”) you can see why somebody would be. Well, after some so-so live action outings like The Darjeeling Limited and Moonrise Kingdom, Anderson is back in top form with The Grand Budapest Hotel.

What Works: A breakdown of the plot would probably eat up about five paragraphs since this is really a story within a story within another story but this is the closest Anderson will ever get to making an action film, and when the story really gets going into full caper mode (we’re talking elaborate comedic jail breaks, bodies piling up over an inheritance and a swiped art masterpiece, and even an honest-to-God shoot out) the movie reaches new heights for Anderson: he’s always complicated, but this time it’s complicated fun.

As always, the cast is made up of Anderson standbys like Bill Murray and Owen Wilson (along with about a dozen others that have been featured in his previous movies), but it’s company new-man Ralph Fiennes who really stands out. Who knew he’d have such a talent for light physical comedy?

And even though it’s more about style than substance, there is a real theme beneath this one: the romanticization of old-world civility and pining for the level of service that used to mean. Anderson’s fussiness has always come off as painfully old-fashioned, but here he seems to be saying “well yeah, and that’s the point.”

What Doesn’t: If somebody didn’t like this movie, I’d understand. Some of the “jokes” are deliberately too highbrow and arcane for their own good, but if you’re even remotely a fan of any of Wes Anderson’s movies, then this is for you.

What I Would Have Done Differently: Who knows? A lot of movies could be made by anyone and tweaked here or changed there, but this is a singular experience made by an obsessive known for his details. I’m not saying that makes it perfect, but it does make it hard for an outsider to improve it.