Wes Anderson’s eclectic films have sometimes seemed burdened by the cinema of the past; The Royal Tennenbaums recalls John Irving’s The Hotel New Hampshire, while The Darjeeling Limited references Indian cinema. By looking back to the writings of Austrian humourist Stefan Zweig, whose The World of Yesterday is suffused by nostalgia, Anderson finds a common soul to work with, and the result is a complex, over-stuffed but frequently delightful film, at odds with modern fashions.
Ralph Fiennes plays Gustave H, a concierge at a glamorous eastern-European hotel who takes an interest in a lobby-boy Zero (Tony Revolori). Gustave has a secret passion for the elderly Madame D (Tilda Swinton), but when she dies, an act of art-theft sets himself up as her killer, and Gustave and Zero break out of jail to attempt to clear his name.
Told through flashbacks between an older Zero (F Murray Abraham) and an interested writer (Jude Law), The Grand Budapest Hotel is busy even by Anderson’s standards, with cameos from Owen Wilson, Bill Murray, Tom Wilkinson and a host of other familiar faces. The effect is charming, in that it evokes a past where character and style were omnipresent, contrasting nicely with the somewhat tatty setting of Zero’s recollection.
The Grand Budapest Hotel has lots of comic situations, and even if there are fewer laughs, the elaborate staging and cheerful air of anything-goes storytelling will ender it to a small but passionate group of cinema-goers. Fiennes wasn’t first choice for the role, but he plays it with gusto, and the whole cast seem to be in on the joke.