The adventures of Gustave H, a legendary concierge at a famous European hotel between the wars, and Zero Moustafa, the lobby boy who becomes his most trusted friend.
The haters will no-doubt hate, but this is a sparkling effort with an utterly endearing lead turn from Ralph Fiennes.
It's a nimblefooted, witty piece, but one also imbued with a premonitory sadness at the coming conflagration.
Like the eye-catching cakes Agatha makes, Wes Anderson’s eighth feature has a heft beneath its icing, heart behind its artifice. Check in, and you won’t want to leave.
It’s wonderful stuff.
More surprising is the subject matter: behind the predictably whimsical yarn of a hotel concierge on the run lies a darker tale of pre-war Europe, a land of intrigue, disease, love and bubbling violence.
The Grand Budapest Hotel is arguably Wes Anderson’s most Wes Anderson-y feature to date, and as such your level of enjoyment will depend on how you feel about the quirky filmmaker and his extremely idiosyncratic style.
The Grand Budapest Hotel is as ravishing as it is madcap; channelling a childlike sense of wide-eyed wonder, it recaptures the magic of early cinema whilst remaining peculiarly modern and thoroughly, utterly Anderson.
This movie is a confection in itself – deceptively light, very rich, and decidedly moreish.
Another meticulously stylish and deadpan Wes Anderson movie that walks the fine line between masterpiece and folly.
The narrative sags in the second act when Gustav takes a back seat to a new group of characters, a rugged bunch of prison inmates led by Harvey Keitel, and as ever Anderson’s stage-managed artistry precludes proper feeling.
For the first hour you want passionately to love the film. For the second hour, or much thereof, you want passionately to leave it.
Watching this is like taking the waters in Zubrowka. A deeply pleasurable immersion.
It’s a measure of Anderson’s skill that he can make a film whose main subject is loss seem so light-hearted and pleasurable.
Quirky but wonderful.
This artfully precise comedy is full of rapier-sharp wit, and Ralph Fiennes's timing is note-perfect.
Wes Anderson: in a world of his own
Wes Anderson
A brief guide to the many guests at The Grand Budapest Hotel
General release. Check local listings for show times.