The Grand Budapest Hotel: I'm Utterly Charmed

With no real attention to narrative, cohesiveness, or accurate description, let me relate to you the experience of watching The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014, dir: Wes Anderson).

This film is charming and vulgar; lovely and crude; quaint and pointed; apolitical and sharply mocking.

The entire cast is like a movie buff's dream team: Jeff Goldblum, F. Murray Abraham, Adrien Brody, Tilda Swinton. Willem. Freaking. Dafoe.

And of course, Ralph Fieness. Who should no-shit win an Oscar for his performance. It was perfection. His timing was impeccable. Even when I knew a joke was coming, he still managed to surprise me with it. His character is pompous, vain, bitchy, and demanding but also brave, loyal, talented, loveable and inspiring.

Wes Anderson's style doesn't always speak to me, but Grand Budapest bowled me over. The characters all hit the right note between whimsy and realism. The world is beautiful, but it still has very ugly parts. And the ugliness really strikes you--in the midst of determined quirkiness you are shocked and affronted to be reminded of the very plain and boring evil of which man is capable.

F. Murray Abraham is luminescent, Ed Norton is grimly dutiful, Goldblum is directly ethical, Brody is a foul brat, and Dafoe is menacingly fascinating.

This movie was sort of like if Inglorious Basterds (which I enjoy) had been made from love of life rather than love of justice. I was smiling as the credits rolled. I smiled every time I thought of it today. In one viewing this movie has evinced an ineffable fondness from me. I will be enjoy this one for a long time to come, hopefully.