After the so-so Fantastic Mr. Fox and the limp Moonrise Kingdom, Wes Anderson's The Grand Budapest Hotel is a return to form.
Gustave (Fiennes) is almost as famous as the eponymous hotel where he serves as concierge in the 30s. Known for his attention to detail and his high standards, Gustave is also a lothario to the hotel's wealthy elderly patrons and when one of his conquests (Tilda Swinton) dies and leaves a priceless painting to him in her will, he is accused of her murder by her jealous son (Adrien Brody) and thrown in jail. Helping him escape is lobby boy/sidekick Zero (Revolori), who will one day inherit the hotel and regale this tale (as Abraham) to writer Jude Law…
All the Andersonisms are in play again - the precision pans, the sandbox framing, the chapter plotting, the seventies vibe, the flawed mentor, the penchant for men in uniforms - but unlike Moonrise, Budapest… has a natural urgency and momentum. It's a busy and pretty thing - when not moving or up to something it takes in some wondrous German scenery or some eye-catching hotel interior. It's a lot funnier too with the whiff of sex and bad language, most of it unexpectedly coming from the sophisticated Gustave, new additions to the director's rather clean oeuvre. Brody calling Fiennes ‘a faggot' is out of place in the Anderson world, however.
Clearly enjoying himself playing against type, Fiennes's Gustave is a grown up Max Fischer, Anderson's selfish, scheming teenage antihero; steadfastly holding onto a world that he knows is disappearing, the hotel is Gustave's Rushmore, allowing him to happily wallow in arrested development forever. Anderson regulars Bill Murray, Jason Schwartzman, Owen Wilson have cameos, Ed Norton (officer), Jeff Goldblum (lawyer), Willem Dafoe (fanged assassin) return, while Harvey Keitel (prison hardcase), Saorise Ronan (love interest), Tom Wilkinson (an older Jude Law), and Mathieu Almaric (butler) make their debuts and help keep the story playing at such a high note. No one, by the way, bothers to alter their accent one iota.
As usual Anderson can lose the run of himself with too many mini-missions and capers that can make one forget the main plot but he does shed himself of one bad habit in that Budapest… doesn't outstay its welcome.
What does it all amount to? Very little. But it is very funny.