A brilliant, stylistic, heartfelt adventure.

Rating: 10/10 (5 April 2014)

Coupled with the subtle pastel corridors and inflammatory red hotel doors, the sprawling Grand Budapest Hotel is home to many exquisite and unconventional characters, as director Wes Anderson further contorts eccentric stereotypes with his brilliant and farcical narrative. The Grand Budapest Hotel is certainly true to its grandeur title, boasting the broad and sensational world of Gustave H. (Ralf Fiennes, Schindler's List), the fabled concierge of the ages and the celebrity of the Grand Budapest Hotel itself. When an unexperienced refugee lobby boy, Zero (Tony Revelori), seeks an adept mentor, he is instead dragged into the confounding and bizarre world full of brass-knuckled psychopaths, diabolical schemers, and an immense conspiracy spanning a soon to be war-torn Europe. Wes Anderson doesn't disappoint, as his comedic adventure is astoundingly resplendent and magnificent in its execution and farcical manner.
The enthralling dichotomy between Gustave and Zero is not only aided by Anderson's colourful visuals, but is tied together in a neat knot as their superficial differences become an apparent similarity. Gustave, the man in the know, deeply engrossed in his library of romantic poetry and his ability to tame insecure and rich elderly women at the drop of a dime, is presented as the perfect mentor for his soon-to-be protégé, a naive and compulsive child. His wit and conceited bravado defines his charming character, but as one should suspect, this is a mere mask, an opaque reflection of his ostensible character. Instead, he is a perfect likeness of Zero; naive and lost in the unknown, especially when he realizes the unfortunate truth: his glamorous exterior cannot stop a proverbial bullet.
Zero, a refugee, hiding from the war that stole his family, is finally given the chance to roam the plains and mountainous ranges of Europe with his eccentric mentor. Falling in love, enveloping his mentors charming ways, and even developing his own persona, Zero is shown the life he would likely never have, a life he is never to leave behind. Unlike his beloved mentor, however, Zero doesn't pursue Gastave's gold-digging ways, but instead pursues a life of isolation. An old man, stubbornly attached to the memories of the once grand hotel, is withered and alone, but inadvertently immortalised his memoirs through a the curiosity of a young writer (Jude Law, Closer).
In true farcical manner, The Grand Budapest Hotel encapsulates the very raw essence of fun; sporting a cast of extremely cartoonish protagonists and villains in an abundance of comic situations, Anderson's adventurous endeavour latched a smile to my face like a parasite – it didn't fall off until a quarter-hour after the film ended. A brass-knuckled Jopling (Willem DaFoe, Spiderman), always accompanied by a menacing organ tone; a deadpan lawyer, Kovacs (Jeff Goldblum, Jurassic Park); a stern police commissioner, Henckles (Edward Norton, Fight Club); The Grand Budapest Hotel has countless colourful and eclectic personalities step through its radiant doors.
Whether the loudest and most unsubtle recreation of The Great Escape, or an exhilarating ski/sled chase, Anderson captures the quintessence of humour and entertainment in its many shapes and sizes; the menacing psychopath throwing a cat out of a window, or severing four fingers in an extremely tragic door-slam, The Grand Budapest Hotel condenses the basics of dark humour. Meanwhile, it contains compelling and light humour, from the delightful back-and-forth between the eclectic cast, to its eccentric visual farce. Full to the brim with laughs and giggles, it isn't a film that laughs at the audience, but instead laughs with them and embraces its comical and meta air.
From an impossibly coincidental Chekhov's gun that saves the day in true deus-ex machina style, to the ridiculous escapades our radiant cast gorges itself upon, The Grand Budapest Hotel does nothing to avoid its inherently light-hearted disposition. Instead, it embraces it, as Anderon's popular 'fiction inside a fiction' style (See: The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou, for example) is embraced in its entirety – even the aspect ratio of the picture changes as the narrative jumps from past to present. Visual elements that I would once deem tacky are now welcomed in my mind, as Anderson proves his squared and symmetrical style tantalizing and hypnotic. Vibrant and colourful, the bountiful hallways and stairwells of the Grand Budapest are a pleasure to the eye.
I feel bad having written this far without giving some of the lesser performances the attention they deserve – in the few lines she delivers, Agatha (Saoirse Ronan, The Lovely Bones), Zero's talented dessert designer and soul mate overshadows many of the smaller performances. I daresay that Bill Murray paled in comparison, although his role was extremely limited. Wes Anderson proves that even with an immense cast of well-known actors, he is able to extract their essence of entertainment in mere seconds or minutes, as minor roles are diverse and extraordinary. Gustave, however, with his nuances and idiosyncracies, steals every moment on scene, and Fiennes once again proves his acting mettle.
The Grand Budapest Hotel is an overwhelming triumph, a pleasure to the eye, the ear, and the mind. Absorbing the true meaning of entertainment in its self-parodying and meta fashion, it manages to radiate enjoyment and energy around every corner of the sprawling hotel, and the immense land-mass of Europe. While I despise the use of sensationalistic hyperbole, it is, without a doubt, among the most enjoyable films I have ever perused. I suggest this to all, young and old, as The Grand Budapest Hotel has depth, humour, farce, and fun in an amalgamation of film-making talent. Violent and crude, innocent and naive, hilarious and touching, this is a film that cannot be missed, even if its bizarre but effective style may appear intimidating to the average watcher.