Wes Anderson is an addiction; it's something you either get or you don't; and, if you've kept the child you once were untouched and safe in a small corner of your mind, then you probably adore his sensitivity, love for colour, detail, humour and bias for action. Because his characters are big children: they do not think a lot (overly contemplating before doing is a sign of old age, after all), they act. Action is character, they say, don't they?
The film is inspired by the ambience, style and small-town allure of Stefan Zweig stories, which creates a burning necessity for the following rhetoric question: doesn't great literature make good material for cinema more often than not? Even if a well-known issue on film adaptations exists? Wes Anderson explains his choice in a lengthy interview on the classic Austrian author, and as we brought the subject about, you may allow me to point out that project Gutenberg has no short stories of him whatsoever (so I will have to actually buy a real book to read some).
I don't know exactly why it took me so long to finish this post. I've watched this movie a bit more than a month ago, and it still is the last movie I've watched (sic). Not counting same-country, lacklustre stuff that are watched mainly for the sake of it. Not only it is the last movie I've watched, but it's the last movie I've watched and want to recommend it to whoever asks for a recommendation and the last movie whose cinematic style I feel defines/describes me. Today I found myself once more having a chat on how I find that Wes Anderson fans are the right crowd for me. So, yes, in the end this post is not so much about this particular Wes Anderson film, but a thankful note to the director himself, for giving me the opportunity to unconsciously dig in the psyche of people I meet, finding gold where I was not expecting it.
An exuberant story of affairs full of affection between people desperate for love and reassurance leads to the stealing of an invaluable painting, the gloomy research of the causes of death of a rich lady -a quest for truth which ends ups quite badly-, just before fugitives of all sorts try to escape their destiny or save the lives of others and become rich at the same time, not quite in this order. A story-in-a-story which references/parodies real life events in a hilarious way; that doesn't make them less sad on their own merit, though. But life is not a 100% pleasant thing, just like yummy cakes do not come without malevolent consequences, just like The Grand Budapest Hotel is not what it seems to be in the end.
As for the glorious tenants of The Grand Budapest Hotel itself, I have to say they were all most welcoming. Then, again, I bet they were, cause they were sleeping in beds more comfortable than my own.
I don't know exactly why it took me so long to finish this post. I've watched this movie a bit more than a month ago, and it still is the last movie I've watched (sic). Not counting same-country, lacklustre stuff that are watched mainly for the sake of it. Not only it is the last movie I've watched, but it's the last movie I've watched and want to recommend it to whoever asks for a recommendation and the last movie whose cinematic style I feel defines/describes me. Today I found myself once more having a chat on how I find that Wes Anderson fans are the right crowd for me. So, yes, in the end this post is not so much about this particular Wes Anderson film, but a thankful note to the director himself, for giving me the opportunity to unconsciously dig in the psyche of people I meet, finding gold where I was not expecting it.
An exuberant story of affairs full of affection between people desperate for love and reassurance leads to the stealing of an invaluable painting, the gloomy research of the causes of death of a rich lady -a quest for truth which ends ups quite badly-, just before fugitives of all sorts try to escape their destiny or save the lives of others and become rich at the same time, not quite in this order. A story-in-a-story which references/parodies real life events in a hilarious way; that doesn't make them less sad on their own merit, though. But life is not a 100% pleasant thing, just like yummy cakes do not come without malevolent consequences, just like The Grand Budapest Hotel is not what it seems to be in the end.
As for the glorious tenants of The Grand Budapest Hotel itself, I have to say they were all most welcoming. Then, again, I bet they were, cause they were sleeping in beds more comfortable than my own.
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