In film, there are two distinct ends of the artistic spectrum. On one end we have realism - an incredibly popular facade to be found in Australian film (e.g. Look Both Ways, Muriel's Wedding). On the other end we have substantial, orchestrated, staged glamour. Extravagant costumes, set pieces and colour schemes. This is where we find Wes Anderson. Wes Anderson is just about the most stylish director of his generation. He takes notions of 'originality' and 'artistic zeal' under his wing and flies with it. He brought us the feverish dream-like films The Darjeeling Limited and Moonrise Kingdom. Never abandoning his distinct aptitude for creating worlds within worlds, he disappoints us not in his latest creation.
Every time he allows us to see through his eyes, ours inevitably shine in awe of the new world. We leave the cinema having seen more colours than we ever knew existed. If it is possible, Anderson has let simply let perfection run awry in his latest masterpiece.
The story of A Grand Budapest Hotel is no simple one. Set in three different time frames, the film chronicles the adventures a young meagre lobby boy, Zero Moustafa (Tony Revolori), and how he comes to own the once-renowned hotel. Taken under the strict tutelage of a notable, rather legendary concierge Gustave H (Ralph Fiennes), Zero becomes his greatest confidant. When a murder mystery, a stolen priceless Rennaissance painting and an organised jailbreak are thrown into the mix the result is nothing less than pure cinematic delight.