"Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station shall be held by anybody else, these pages must show." Even though a title card in the end credits indicates that Stefan Zweig was the main inspiration for Wes Anderson's latest (and arguably greatest) film "The Grand Budapest Hotel," one cannot help but feel a kinship between the film and the immortal opening sentence of Charles Dickens' masterwork "David Copperfield." For in those words, the narrator not only plays with the ambiguity of his own character, but also sets a nostalgic tone for the remainder of the work.
While Anderson's film certainly does not aim for the same ideas as Dickens' novel, there are a few striking similarities between the two works, if only on a surface level. Dickens' novel tells the story of a novelist writing his autobiography. In "Budapest Hotel," Andersen takes the viewer to a cemetery where a young girl, presumably a surrogate for the audience, is visiting the grave of a venerated author; one immediately thinks of Dickens' own veneration by the English, his tomb in the Westminster Abbey and even the recent statue that was built in his honor in his hometown (of course Anderson's film would have already been in its final editing stages prior to the unveiling of the statue in January, but it is still a rather remarkable coincidence). The girl opens the book and is introduced to a voiceover from the author himself giving an introduction to the story; Dickens was known to give introductions in his own works and actually provided "Copperfield" with two (the first upon the publication of the work in 1850 and the second the year before his death in 1869). The older author (played by Tom Wilkinson) gets a rather comic and unique moment in which he shouts at a boy that is looking to interrupt his introduction; the author's delivery is rather serious, and this little addition maintains the lightness and quirk inherent in most Anderson films.
In the middle of the introduction, the voiceover switches to a younger voice which is revealed to be a younger version of the writer. He is in the Grand Budapest hotel and his extensive narration makes the viewer wonder whether he is the main character of the story. Before long he is introduced to Zero Mustafa, the owner of the locale and the two eventually engage in conversation about the history of the place and how Zero wound up as its owner. The narration shifts from the young author to Mustafa, implying that the story will center on Zero as the hero. But the ambiguity continues when he starts to describing the narrative; in the same manner as David Copperfield's story reveals a plethora of heroes from which to choose, Zero's substantial narrative also implies more than one hero.
This is not intended to be an essay on how "Budapest Hotel" compares with "David Copperfield" (one might even state that "Budapest" has references to other Dickens works besides "Copperfield," particularly in the film's climax and the fate of a major character) but this admittedly lengthy description hopes to emphasize how Anderson's latest film is quite rich in its content. In "Copperfield," Dickens is able to delve into the fantastical realm with more freedom than in any other work thanks to the first-person narrator; all the while, he manages to maintain the realism of his world in focus. Anderson seems able to obtain a similar artistic freedom as each transition from narrator to narrator not only moves to a previous era, but to a more fantastical one as well; however, the constant shifts to the older Zero (and then to the young and old author) remind the viewer of his/her own involvement in the viewing and interpretting of the information.
Zero's narration explores his relationship with the eccentric Monsieur Gustave who is the Grand Budapest Hotel's concierge and has a liking for older women. One day, Gustave discovers that one of the women that has been a constant visitor of the hotel has died. He visits her home to pays his final respects (along with Zero as his sidekick of course) and discovers that she has left him a valuable painting. Of course, this does not sit well with the children of the deceased and a wild chase ensues that takes the two protagonists on wild adventures in jail, in the mountains and into the heart of the Grand Budapest Hotel.
Anderson manages to create what seems like a dream-world at numerous junctures; the first image of the Hotel looks like a painting and is cleverly framed as the word "picturesque" is spoken in the voiceover. Anderson's glorious painterly style is in abundance here, but it seems that he has managed to frame it on a far larger scale than he has ever managed to do. Littered throughout the work are masterfully framed wide-shots as well as brilliant montage sequence that are effective not only for the tremendous enjoyment that they cause, but for their flawless execution. For example, Gustave concocts a plan to get help from other hotel concierges littered around the continent. Gustave makes his call and reaches the first concierge; Anderson cuts to a title card featuring the name of the hotel and then introduces the concierge. He talks briefly on the phone with Gustave, puts him on hold and then calls up the next hotel. The shot sequence repeats itself, but each time the viewer sees another concierge engaged in a new activity and each time he asks a younger apprentice to take command of the task for him. These range from tasting food to conducting CPR among others; Anderson manages to up the ante in each one, making for a more hilarious experience. The viewer almost wishes that this sequence would continue ad infinitum to see what other ingenious variations Anderson manages to come up with.
Another brilliant stylistic technique employed by Anderson is his choice of aspect ratio and how it divides up the narrative and creates a sense of timeline organization for the viewer. With each step back in time, the film also alters its aspect ratio until it settles on 4:3 throughout Zero's narrative.
The performances are equally brilliant in maintaining a consistency of tone throughout. Even though the style of the film is heightened, Wilkinson and Jude Law give the author a strong sense of realism that contrasts sharply with the characters in Zero's narrative; F. Murray Abraham, who portrays the older Zero, also maintains a similar tone to Wilkinson and Law. And while these performances are commendable in their own right, the show really belongs to Ralph Fiennes as Gustave and Toni Revolori as the young Zero. The two contrast in a number of ways that manage to add variety and unpredictability to the relationship.
Revolori's Zero is timid, wide-eyed and awkward; his monotone seems a bit bizarre, but adds to his identity as a stranger. He maintains this characteristic for most of the film, but it emphasizes Zero's innocence and also beautifully informs the romantic nostalgia of his older self.
Fiennes' Gustave, is overly energetic (so much that his sexuality is often called into question), witty, vibrant and unpredictable. In one particular scene he lambasts Zero for making a mistake on one of their missions. He speaks rather quickly but there is a restraint and polish to the verbal beating; the subdued tone emphasizes Gustave's eloquence, but also his inherently good nature. This is not a man that will turn into a raging maniac. Moments later, the situation is clarified and the character makes a complete turn emotionally; he still speaks quickly and energetically, but there is a sense of resignation and pain in the voice. Fiennes manages these two emotional shifts without moving an inch or changing the speed of his delivery; it is simply with marvelous, almost completely imperceptible subtlety that he manages to allow the viewer to seem his dynamism.
The remainder of the cast is filled with major A-list actors; many of them making little more than excellent cameos. Willem Dafoe gets substantial screen time as Jopling the villain. His eyes radiate with fury and menace. Adrien Brody is also a villain, but imbues his role with a pathetic quality that is fun to laugh at. Saoirse Ronan plays Zero's love Agatha, who matches Revolori's awkwardness and wide-eyed performance. Anderson actually places a tremendous amount of emphasis on her eyes throughout the film, allowing the viewer to immediately identify her as the completion of Zero's character. While Zero's eyes reveal a confused blankness at times, Agatha's are full of life and radiance.
Edward Norton, Owen Wilson, Harvey Keitel, Jeff Goldblum, Mathieu Amalric, Lea Seydoux, Bill Murray and Tilda Swinton are just a few of the numerous stars that get a chance to make their imprint on the story; and every single one of them manages to become memorable on some level.
As always, Anderson's choice of music is wonderfully chosen. He utilized Benjamin Britten's "The Young Person's Guide to the Orchestra" as his main musical motif for "Moonrise Kingdom" to portray the sense of discovery of children. In "The Grand Budapest Hotel" he utilizes a score that features a predominant amount of baroque music; this choice not only emphasizes the high-end society portrayed in the Grand Budapest Hotel, but it also expresses the fact that the hotel belongs to a glorious past that no longer exists.
In concluding this review, a final comparison with "David Copperfield" seems rather fitting. That novel ends with a retrospect in which the author acknowledges the close of his writing task; the effect is one of nostalgia and despite the happy ending, the reader cannot help but feel a sense of loss. Anderson's other films have managed to capture a similar feeling and nowhere is the nostalgia and sense of loss greater than in this film. The story keeps its chin up in its world view, but the effect is not filled with unabashed optimism; there is a painful tragedy lurking beneath that remains with the viewer.
Wes Anderson, the true hero of "The Grand Budapest Hotel," manages to imbue his ever-quirky style with potent humanity and vibrancy that keeps the viewer not only immersed in his fantasy world (arguably his most fantastical film to date), but also grounded in the emotional realism that it portrays. Anderson's films seem to be getting better and better and with this film he has set a new standard.
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