The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014) – Review

Review: The Grand Budapest Hotel is a delightful adventure comedy/drama that encompasses all the intricacies and indulgences of (its writer, director, and producer) Wes Anderson’s style and puts them to their best use, creating a film that feels utterly joyous to behold. The film is about Zero Moustafa, the owner of The Grand Budapest Hotel and former Lobby Boy for the very same hotel. Now retired, Zero recounts his adventures with the hotel’s extraordinary concierge M. Gustave to an inquiring writer who is staying at the now rundown hotel. Their adventures took place during the early 1930s as Europe was about to be once again engulfed in war.

The narrative structure of the film is multilayered (reminding me of The Hours a bit – for those who have not seen the film, it takes place in three different time periods, all centered around Virginia Woolf’s Mrs. Dalloway; the first sees Woolf struggling to write the novel in the 1920s, the second features a melancholic suburban wife reading the novel in the 1950s, and the third revolves around a woman who very much encompasses the character and story of Mrs. Dalloway set in the present). The prologue and epilogue that bookend the film feature a young woman in present day paying her respects to the statue of a famous author, carrying a book entitled The Grand Budapest Hotel. The next layer sees the author in the 1980s making a recording of how he came upon the story of The Grand Budapest Hotel, leading to the next layer in which the author, now much younger, is having a conversation with Zero. The final layer sees Zero as a young man working as a Lobby Boy in the hotel. There are also two narrators, as there are essentially two perspectives: the first being the author’s and the second Zero’s. This all sounds complicated and very easily could have ended up a confusing mess, the narrative jumping around in time; yet, writer-director Wes Anderson skillfully manages the narrative and his use of two distinct narrators enables the audience to follow the story with ease.

The differences in time period are also expressed in a cool artistic/aesthetic manner. The aspect ratio changes depending on the time period, which does create some pretty striking cuts between time periods. That said, the change in aspect ratio is probably something that is only “cool” to students of film (I am curious if average moviegoers even notice the change). Anderson also uses special effects (miniature models, rear projection, and other older techniques) to give the film a feel similar to films from the 1930s. All in all, the whole thing looks and feels a bit like it takes place in an elaborate children’s book, but with a sharp edginess, startling violence, and cursing.

Like Anderson’s other films, The Grand Budapest Hotel is a treat of brilliant and colorful aesthetics. Anderson has created a quirky romantically nostalgic world – a world that maybe only ever existed in the imagination/memory of those classic films from the 1930s. While Anderson does borrow from others (the film has elements from Jean Renoir’s La Grande Illusion, Alfred Hitchcock’s Vertigo/Bernardo Bertolucci’s The Conformist, Ernst Lubitsch’s Trouble in Paradise, and Yasujiro Ozu, among others), he makes it all his own. The film has a unifying style that is very evident and specific.

Often in the past, critics of Anderson’s work have called his specific style alienating, as if he were merely creating pretty lifeless dioramas. With The Grand Budapest Hotel, Anderson’s style is again in full swing, but the film seems to have a broader appeal than his past works. Is this due to the momentum building off the breakout success of Fantastic Mr. Fox and Moonrise Kingdom (which both also saw general moviegoers take a bigger interest)? Is it the film’s fantastical world that just glistens with Golden Age nostalgia (something that worked well in Woody Allen’s Midnight in Paris)? Or, is it the film’s overall jovial feel, mixed with elements of adventure, mystery, and romance/friendship? Probably all three. The film, too, resembles Anderson’s own work, particularly The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou and The Darjeeling Limited (other examples of Wes Anderson style adventure films); yet, those two were not nearly as well received (however, I do love them both and count them among my favorite films). The Grand Budapest Hotel, however, feels a bit more accessible than those two.

In many ways, The Grand Budapest Hotel feels like a grand film: almost like a tall tale of larger than life characters leading extraordinary lives (other modern examples would be The Curious Case of Benjamin Button and The Life of Pi). Anderson does a fabulous job mixing biting humor and absurdist humor with a tone that is light and creates a fun experience for the audience, but also has an undercurrent of sadness to it. Much in the way we look back at fond memories. They were happy times, but they have come and gone and we can never go back.

The set of eccentric characters that is featured in the film is also a lot of fun. M. Gustave is just electrically dynamic. It is hard not to be pulled in by his charisma. Meanwhile, Zero makes for a great straight man and in for the audience. Although the characters are all a bit off, Anderson still makes them relatable, because the themes of the film and the desires of the characters are all very much relatable. The audience is dazzled by the aesthetics, charmed by the humor, but left satisfied by the development of the central characters and their relationships with each other.

The Grand Budapest Hotel is wonderfully compelling not just because of its visuals, tone, characters, or ambitious narrative but because Wes Anderson weaves all these elements together, creating what feels like a magical world; yet, one filled with relatable characters (even though they are all a bit fantastical) and emotions. It is probably not too early to call it a strong contender (if not lock) to be among 2014’s ten best films (it is that good).

Technical, aesthetic & acting achievements: Wes Anderson has now made eight feature films; each film seemingly becoming more and more steeped in Anderson’s all-consuming style (a style that is part French New Wave and part Ozu with a few other things thrown in too). It is a style that I really enjoy because it is clear that Anderson cares about and is very much in tune with every aspect of his narrative, actor performances, visuals, and accompanying music. Every detail is specifically designed. This is a trait of only the truly great filmmakers, whom I consider Anderson among. I also love Anderson’s sense of humor, a dry crisply edgy wit. Upon one viewing it is difficult to name The Grand Budapest Hotel as his best film as a few have (for me, at present, it probably stands number four); however, it is so rich and spectacular that I can see it only blossoming with even more radiance with each additional viewing (there is also apparently a George Clooney cameo I missed – though this is unconfirmed).

Wes Anderson is known for his aesthetic, but he is a very collaborative filmmaker. He often works with the same people over and over (both actors and other technical crew members). Composer Alexandre Desplat scores the film – his third collaboration with Anderson – turning in his best score with Anderson to date. It is a wonderful mix of infectiously festive/lighthearted pieces, rousing adventurous pieces, and somber dramatic pieces, all with a very Prussian feel (while also seemingly somewhat building off his score for Moonrise Kingdom). His score sets the tone for the film very well and perfectly accompanies the visuals – and it needed to more than past Anderson films, as this film only sparingly uses found music (and they are all classical pieces). Robert D. Yeoman returns as Anderson director of photography, their seventh collaboration. As always, the look of the film is perfect – from the lighting to the framing and camera moves. Here, however, Yeoman has to create a film that feels both classic and modern in its visual approach, and he pulls it off splendidly. Production designer Adam Stockhausen, working with Anderson for the third time (second as production designer), does his best work to date with the filmmaker as well. Some of the credit does go to the beautiful locations that the film takes advantage of, but for the most part it is Stockhausen, working with Anderson and his art department, who creates the magnificent sets and mise en scene. The film is a visual splendor.

The film is also stuffed with fun performances from a stellar cast (most appearing in brief roles). The highlights among the small roles include: Tilda Swinton who is quite remarkable as the elderly Madame D. (can you be nominated for an Oscar for less than five minutes of screen time?), Edward Norton who is funny and endearing as Henckels, Tom Wilkinson who is just right as the older version of the author, Jude Law who is great as the young version of the author, Mathieu Amalric who is sniveling as Madame D.’s head servant Serge X., Adrien Brody who is wonderfully snide as Madame D.’s awful son Dmitri, Willem Dafoe who is the embodiment of a classic henchman as Jopling, F. Murray Abraham who is touching and mannered as the older version of Zero, and of course Bill Murray who is a lot of fun as the concierge of another grand hotel. Saoirse Ronan plays Agatha, a local cake baker and candy maker, who gets wrapped up in the adventures of Zero and M. Gustave after she falls in love with Zero. Ronan plays Agatha to be a little more pragmatic than the other characters in the film, not as quick to just jump in; but, she is very brave and very lovely. Ronan’s strong performance is a crucial element in fully pulling the audience into the narrative on an emotional level. Tony Revolori gives what could be a breakthrough performance as the younger version of Zero, and arguably the film’s main character (though he is not as flashy as M. Gustave). Revolori acts almost as a wall, allowing the other characters (primarily M. Gustave) to bounce off him. He grounds the film and gives the audience a way into the world. It is very good work.  And then there is Ralph Fiennes who is completely and wonderfully brilliant as M. Gustave, giving one of his best performances to date (up there with his characters Amon Goeth, Charles Van Doren, Count Laszlo de Almasy, and Lord Voldemort). M. Gustave is played to be exceedingly charming, always pulling all focus towards himself. He is the biggest and loudest presence in a position in which most might consider small and quiet. It is certainly to be among this year’s best performances.

Summary & score: The Grand Budapest Hotel encompasses everything fans of Wes Anderson love about his films, while incorporating just enough nostalgia, humor, and positive buzz to attract the masses as well. This very well could be Anderson’s biggest critical and commercial hit to date. 9/10

Inside Llewyn Davis (2013) – Review

Review: Inside Llewyn Davis is a circular character drama that uses the 1961 Greenwich Village folk music scene to show the audience something about themselves, about humanity. The film is about a struggling folk singer and guitar player Llewyn Davis. He is kind of an asshole, favoring the integrity of his music over all else. He has bad manners and a surly disposition, leaving him short on friends to freeload off. Davis is desperately trying to make a career out of his music, but it just does not seem to be working out – on top of that he is dealing with the death of his former partner Mike, who recently committed suicide.

Like many of the Coen Brothers’ films, Inside Llewyn Davis is a parable with an antihero at its center. Here, the lesson appears to be about the beauty of artistic expression, when humanity is otherwise often marred in ugliness. Davis is completely unlikable in almost every way. He is a leach who does not seem to care about anyone other than himself, just grinding it out trying to play music as a source of employment. And yet, when he does perform there is something marvelous to it. The Coen Brothers expose the man as being deeply passionate and affected by life – how else could he absolutely capture the emotions of the songs he plays and resonate so strongly with the audience?

But, Davis is also not completely lost. When he finds out that he may have impregnated Jean (and thereby potentially ruining her home life with her partner Jim), Davis does not hesitate to step up to pay for the abortion. Yes, it is easy to say that he is eager to pay to avoid any future responsibility, and this is probably partially true, but he also could have just as easily told her that it was her problem to deal with (which would be in line with how he behaves in other situations, like abandoning a strung-out Roland Turner). This indicates that on some level he does care about Jean – who is in a way his moral compass. Davis also seems to care about the Gorfein’s cat Ulysses, as if saving the cat will somehow make up for all his other bad deeds. Still, in the end, Davis is fairly despicable and hard for the audience to get behind.

That said, the Coen Brothers do something quite interesting with their portrayal of the world around him to get the audience on his side (though, I am not sure it will work for every viewer). Basically, Davis is shown as a pure musician and one who is genuinely talented. The Coen Brothers interact with the world of the film and all the other characters through the perspective of Davis – who more or less looks down on everyone else. Thus, the other characters are either just as awful as (if not more so than) Davis or laughably goofy. Thus, the audience too takes on Davis’s perspective of superiority, which allows the film to work as a comedy as the Coen Brothers roll out a series of odd characters and situations for Davis to encounter.

The musical performances are really the standout aspect of the film, which some ways works as a musical – on a much purer level than the typical musical structure viewers are used to as filmgoers. Davis delivers a number of fantastic performances and the audience are treated to a few others from supporting characters as well (like the hilarious Please Mr. Kennedy). It is in these performances where the film and Davis expose their souls, where the beauty and emotional power of the music is put on display to shine, erasing all the ill feeling the audience might feel towards Davis. Despite being an ugly person, his music is something special and the audience is able to see something deeper, truer inside him (which creates a connection). This speaks to humanity in general. Throughout our existence, humanity’s history is littered with unmistakable heinous repulsiveness, yet our history too is filled with monumental achievements of grace (often resulting from the arts). There is a dichotomy within people, they have it within themselves the ability to destroy and create wonders. The beauty and emotion of Davis’s music may in fact come out of his tortured life. It is his release. The music allows Davis to show his emotions (grief, loss, a joyful exuberance for the music, and so on), and may in fact be his redemption.

Another interesting aspect of the film is the circular narrative structure that the Coen Brothers employ. The film starts and ends with the same sequence, a flash forward that the audience does not realize is a flash forward until the scene happens again to end the film. In between, the audience experiences a week in Davis’s life, as he desperately tries to make something of his career, going up to Chicago to play for a music promoter/club owner. Like many of the Coen Brothers’ narratives, the world just seems to have it out for Davis (some of which he probably brings upon himself). As much as he wants to make it as a performer, everything seems to be working against him. The audience sees him struggle for a week with really nothing to show for it. Has he even grown as a man or learned anything new? But as with other Coen Brothers’ films, the point is not so much the character, rather he is just a foil for them to express something deeper – which is really more up to the audience’s interpretation than an exact meaning.

Inside Llewyn Davis is odd and quirky, like most of the Coen Brothers’ work. But additionally, some viewers may find it to be overly long in parts (I am specifically thinking of the road trip to Chicago sequence). While the pacing did not bother me, I can see it being an issue for those not fully engaged in the narrative, as it is a bit slow.

The music in Inside Llewyn Davis is onto itself a good enough reason to see the film (especially for fans of folk music), but the Coen Brothers offer so much more with their typically irregular characters and penetrating parable narrative.

Technical, aesthetic & acting achievements: The Coen Brothers, who briefly ventured closer to a conventional Hollywood narrative with True Grit (though, still a film I really liked), have found their way back to making wonderful, strange films with Inside Llewyn Davis, which feels in some ways like a companion piece to Barton Fink and A Serious Man, and musically maybe a bit of a continuation of O, Brother Where Art Thou? The Coen Brothers continue to distinguish themselves as true American auteurs, with each new film both expanding their impressive catalog and exploring something new and grand. Each of their films (minus a couple) is a cinematic treat.

As stated many times above, the music in the film is fantastic. The Coen Brothers and executive music producer T-Bone Burnett have assembled and crafted a very strong array of folk songs that entertain and get to the soul of their performers. However, Bruno Delbonnel’s cinematography may be the film’s most impressive aspect. It is at the same time surreal and felicitous, creating a feeling within the audience that they are watching a time-soaked period drama (which they are) – it feels both old and new. It also perfectly echoes the grief stricken sadness of Davis, thereby fitting the tone very well. There is even a slight hint of nostalgia, despite all the characters being fairly unlikable. Jess Gonchor’s production design provides a real authenticity to the film, as everything looks and feels as it should. Gonchor also succeeds in using his design to speak to who these characters are – which particularly can be seen in Mary Zophres’s costume design.

In some ways the film is episodic, with sequences feeling separate and insular – characters coming in and out. There are many small performances, all of them strong. Garrett Hedlund has almost no dialog, for example, but feels so dynamic on-screen. Other great small supporting performances come from Ethan Phillips, Stark Sands, Max Casella, Justin Timberlake, F. Murray Abraham, and especially Adam Driver (who just steals the Please Mr. Kennedy scene). John Goodman plays Roland Turner, an obnoxious aging cripple jazzman. As unlikable as Davis is, Goodman’s Turner makes him appear in a much better light (if only for a moment). Carey Mulligan is fantastic as Jean, a young woman and folk singer who is both fed up with Davis and probably secretly still has a thing for him (because why else would she care so much about him or be so infuriated by him). Her scene in the park opposite Davis is maybe the most compelling, acting wise, of the film (really, I kind of wish there was more between these two as their chemistry is electric). Oscar Isaac is brilliant as Llewyn Davis. He has always been a good character actor, but this film sees him at his best. He plays Davis to be a dirt bag, yes, but behind all that is a man who is in intense emotional pain. Maybe all his bad behavior is just a protective front or him acting out against a world that has seemingly never given him a real chance, instead taking so much from him.

Summary & score: Fans of the Coen Brothers will again be enchanted by yet another great character driven parable, and in addition Inside Llewyn Davis offers incredibly moving and entertaining musical performances. 8/10

Movie of the Week – The Name of the Rose

This week’s movie: The Name of the Rose (1986).

Monk William of Baskerville, a noted investigator, arrives at an isolate abbey to prove that a series of murders is not a sign that the abbey is inhabited by Satan, but rather that the deaths are the work of man.

The film is directed by French director Jean-Jacques Annaud. The Name of the Rose is his best film, but Quest for Fire, The Bear, and Enemy at the Gates are other notable films he has made.  He worked with composer James Horner (whose score is quite good and memorable), brilliant cinematographer Tonino Delli Colli, and production designer Dante Ferretti.

Sean Connery stars (winning a BAFTA for his performance) with Christian Slater co-starring. Michael Lonsdale, Valentina Vargas, Ron Perlman, and F. Murray Abraham feature in support.

The film is a great mystery drama with fantastic visuals and tone, but it may be most interesting for fans of Sean Connery. Disregarding his work as James Bond, Connery’s best films are as follows (in chronologic order): Marnie, The Hill, The Man Who Would Be King, A Bridge Too Far, The Name of the Rose, The Untouchables, Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, and The Hunt for Red October. Thus, this is a must-see for fans.

Trailer: Here

Available on: Blu-ray and Video-On-Demand