The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014, Wes Anderson)

Wes Anderson's film have nearly always harboured in them a sad sense of loss, a melancholic glance at an enterprise and/or person fallen from great heights and majesty. Just think of the departed mothers and fathers of Rushmore and The Darjeeling Limited, the flailing dynasty of The Royal Tenenbaums, and Steve Zissou tragically looking to regain past glories, literally cast out in a sea of bereavement. Anderson's latest further looks into these themes while divulging once again the director's fascination with the art of storytelling, entering further into his own painfully designed fantasy world perhaps more than ever before. 

Spanning many decades but largely told over the span of two fictional versions of the First and Second World Wars, the story centres around the fine Grand Budapest Hotel and its concierge - Mr. Gustav H - played by Ralph Fiennes on barnstorming comical form. The happenings of the once legendary hotel and its passionately loving high servant is told from the aged eyes of Mr. Zero Moustafa, once a young lobby boy trained under the scrutinous command of Gustav. But that's not all, as even the frail Moustafa's account of his youth is recounted by a young writer (Jude Law) who goes on to publish a book on these memoirs. The film opens with the older author (Tom Wilkinson) reading from his praised work of the man's life he was once lucky enough to have access to. Anderson's penchant for theatrics and the joy of storytelling has never been felt more than here in this multilayered recounting of a past-era and a man whose greatness lies in the memory and heart of a once young upstart.

Mr. Gustav H is a professional at heart and in the hands of these storytellers is held up as if the greatest concierge whom ever existed; his work treated like a dance as he swans from room to room, seeing to needs before they've even arisen in the guest's minds. But he's not quite the professional one presumes from the start, he harbours a 'playful' streak that involves the seduction and obtained adoration of the hotel's various rich (and elderly) female clients. It seems innocent enough through the light nature of Gustav's charms yet this dark vice, or materialistic streak of his, is never fully explored and is merely a subjective footnote we're left to mull over.

The Grand Budapest Hotel is a strange mix of tones and it's in the marvellous use of shading that marks its biggest success. The wafer thin plotting of a will left by one of Gustav's matrons and the subsequent war waged by her enraged son goes hand-in-hand with the audacious Python-esque slapstick humour. This is counterbalanced by the cut aways to the aged Moustafa as he recounts the events, his love and loss of both his loves - Gustav and the spritely young baker, Agatha (Saoirse Ronan). Such moments are rife with mourning and become the film's most anchoring scenes that make for the heaviest moments in what from the offset could have been Anderson's lightest outing yet. The humour is pitch perfect, largely thanks Fiennes's turn in a truly inspired character such as Gustav (his effortless reciting of poetry throughout never loses its comic hold) yet this is again neutralised by the oppressive darkness brought by the murderous hitman Joplin (Willem Defoe) who's out for Gustav's blood. This brutal turn from Defoe's hitman and the swan song like recital from Moustafa are harmonised in the arrival of a Nazi-like militia that casts a shadow over the golden years told thus far. This malevolent force destroys this way of life personified by Gustav and buries it forever much like the fallen aristocracy in Visconti's The Leopard (1963).

With an ensemble cast to rival all casts assembled before it The Grand Budapest Hotel is an uneven affair due to its vast attention span but one that manages to retain a dark and sad resonance thanks to a finely built mythology weaved in throughout. And, of course, the ghost of Kumar Pallana, the Anderson regular and dear friend who was sadly lost last October who's lack of presence looms over this tale of pain and awe. 

Moonrise Kingdom (2012, Wes Anderson)

This latest from Wes Anderson won't convert any detractors but will further strengthen his loyal legions, despite performing the same old tricks denying this work as a career highlight would be plain asinine. Expect fireworks, library books, 60s pop, familial dysfunction, and some very offbeat humour, so basically expect the expected. Moonrise Kingdom is a touching coming of age tale despite Anderson's usual irritating tropes, but perhaps we should be over these by now instead of vainly willing for him to be.


The year is 1965 and two 12 year olds flee their New England island town together in hope to escape the trappings of their families. Both unhappy, orphan Sam and depressed Suzy find solace in each other and look for a life in the wilderness with help from Sam's cub scout survival skills. Despite their tender age they truly believe in their love but have to come to terms that the world isn't ready for it. As the island sets out a search party new layers of drama are revealed from the adults as we see the alienation and loneliness plaguing the youngsters also haunts the adults. It's tough being a kid, but does it get any easier?

Much noted is Anderson's influence from Francois Truffaut, here, the misguided innocent actions of our young central characters are reminiscent of Antoine Doinel from The 400 Blows (1959) as they try so hard to do what they think is right but always at the judgement of elders, never allowed to live at their own discretion. As Sam's foster family refuse to have him back he faces juvenile detention, Antoine also faced the same fate and the two are linked in misunderstandings, in Moonrise and Truffaut's film bad things happen to good people. Suzy brings to mind Margot Tenenbaum from Anderson's 2001 film The Royal Tenenbaums though not for reasons of her adoption but for her blank morose manner, heavy eye make-up, and her resentment for her large overbearing family whom she feels rejected by. Sam and Suzy's meeting and planning of their escape is told in a brief but often hilarious flashback that charts their rising repellence of home life as well as their blossoming affection. It could be seen as an error to keep the backstory to a minimum, only dwelling lightly on the woes of our retreating couple, all the same, Anderson and co-writer Roman Coppola understand the universality of their story having faith that much of their characters feelings would be inherent within audiences already. Had that faith wavered, the film could have become stale and patterned given the amount of existing 'coming of age' stories, luckily the film strides along nicely without the weight of cliches.


Bruce Willis and Edward Norton play against type as the geeky Island Policeman and Sam's Scout leader. Both are lonely men with a childlike quality to them, the film sees them searching for responsibility and purpose much like the children. Suzy's parents are standouts played by Francis McDormand and Anderson regular Bill Murray, many of the film's humorous highs come from their disfunction, and Tilda Swinton hilariously credited as 'Social Services' gives us another ice queen bereft of empathy. The real stars here though aren't stars at all; Jared Gilman and Kara Hayward as Sam and Suzy convey their roles with confidence and finesse given this is an acting debut for both of them. The exchanges between them are dry and typically fitting for a film by Anderson but their love, confusion, and angst is all perfectly portrayed within this fairytale like world.

Like all of Anderson's films Moonrise Kingdom is stylised within an inch of its life with all of the director's trademarks on display at the forefront. This time the film doesn't feel as suffocated by its creators' haughty presence giving way for a more airy experience, feeling less smothered. Strange given the story takes place in a small shut off community but something works better here that hasn't been felt since Rushmore (1998), perhaps the decision to shoot on 16mm adding a more intimate look to the picture has helped, or the dominant exterior locations leading to a more simplistic approach. The film's humour also feels less contrived than past examples possibly helped by Coppola's influence; much of the laughter inducing moments catch you completely off guard, coming from the most unexpected of places. It's refreshing to know a Wes Anderson film still has the ability to confound.


How much you'll enjoy Moonrise Kingdom will depend largely on your affinity with Wes Anderson's style, despite that factor this marks a slightly more accessible turn from him as we've all wanted to run away from life at times, haven't we? With the assumed eye catching visual style, standout soundtrack, and dry-wit throughout, this latest may offer all the expected traits from this cult director and not much new, but with a story this relatable and well assembled there should hopefully be something for all.

In Cinemas This Week - Moonrise Kingdom (2012, Wes Anderson)

After a generally positive plaudit at the Cannes Film Festival Wes Anderson's 6th feature Moonrise Kingdom opens nationwide in the UK this friday. With a cast boasting some of the finest performers in Tilda Swinton, Edward Norton, Bruce Willis, Harvey Keitel, and Francis McDormand, as well as Anderson regulars Bill Murray and Jason Schwartzman, it's surely a cinematic event worth getting worked up for. Or is it?

Wes Anderson's auteur status is undeniable, his films are of pure authorial vision and so no wonder fits well within the Cannes scene in a year uncharacteristically overshadowed by literary adaptations. Also undeniable is the polarising effect which Anderson induces upon audiences; he's a playful filmmaker full of personality, passion, and innovation, yet his films though always showing moments of masterful brilliance are often smothered by his directorial flourishes. Devices utilised early on in his career now feel stale and contrived as his films are stylised within an inch of their lives, creating a self-contained result stumping any sense of life or freedom. 

This all sounds rather harsh but the truth so often does. I'm not a big Wes Anderson fan though I've enjoyed most of his work, the problem stems from the feeling that as an artist (much like Quentin Tarantino) he's suffocated by his own genius, that he's capable of so much more if only he could reel in his creativity and show restraint. Anderson (again like Tarantino) has massive talent for building fitting memorable soundtracks around the pop music of old, has encyclopaedic cinematic knowledge, and evidently has technical directorial prowess - his command of the camera is often stunning though equally distracting. I described Anderson's films as if operating within a self-contained world, often displaying innocent yet damaged worlds like he's fighting for a utopia, an unattainable reality destroyed by the strains of life - in his case, most often familial issues. Yet for all the heart and truth on display Anderson never delves too deep, never dwelling too much as he's distracted by technical wizardry and his penchant for 'quirky cool', the results of frustratingly stifled. This frustration is only made due to seeing Anderson getting it so right, if only sparingly; just think of Luke Wilson as Richie Tenenbaum as he stares into the mirror announcing he's going to kill himself, as Elliot Smith's 'Needle In The Hay' takes up the soundtrack we get something truly heartbreaking and utterly sincere, all this aided by Wilson's understated and felt performance. Another example, again from 2001's The Royal Tenenbaums, is of Ben Stiller as Chas Tenenbaum; towards the end of a beautifully choreographed 'Wellesian' long-take Chas reconciles with his father in one short expression that strikes the biggest emotional chord of the film. As he looks at his father with pained expression he says, "it's been a tough year dad", in mere seconds the long-felt contempt towards his father dissipates adding touching resolution while cutting straight to the heart of the film with impressive economy. These are just two examples of when Anderson's technical flair and aptitude for melding sound and image harmonise to create these human moments that resonate so heavily. Unfortunately on many occasions his constant desire to show off technique blocks other attempts at what would other wise be more stunning examples like these.

Along side the instantly recognisable cast, Moonrise Kingdom boasts two first time actors as the 12 year old lovers who flee together causing their small island community to search and come apart at the seams. The footage brings to mind Richard Ayoade's Submarine which back in 2010 upon that film's release echoed Anderson's work, this comparison is made stronger due to Anderson bringing his attention this time to child protagonists. 

So can we expect anything resembling a departure from Moonrise Kingdom? Will Anderson's latest show a progressive step for him? Will it convert any of his many detractors? News from Cannes looks doubtful. Reception ranged from kind to emphatic with popular opinion being it was his best since Tenenbaums, though it's exactly what we've always come to expect from Anderson. As always his assembled cast is marvellous but I expect once again Wes will have the spotlight securely placed on him. Depending on your affiliation with his brand of hyper stylised hipster tendencies this may not be a problem, or it could be the final nail in the coffin if this talented filmmaker continues to operate firmly within his box. 

Moonrise Kingdom is out nationwide Friday 25th May - review coming soon.