Movie reviews: The Grand Budapest Hotel

In its pomp The Grand Budapest Hotel (15A) hosted the monarchs of Europe, but Wes Anderson’s latest film opens between the wars, with the hotel stripped of much of its cachet. Nevertheless, concierge Gustave (Ralph Fiennes, playing a role reminiscent of Max Fischer in Anderson’s 1998 film Rushmore) refuses to allow his standards slip. When Madame D (Tilda Swinton) dies and bequeaths Gustave a priceless painting, her paranoid son Dmitri (Adrien Brody) accuses Gustave of her murder. With its precision pans, mathematical framing, chapter plotting and penchant for men in uniforms, The Grand Budapest Hotel won’t be mistaken for anything but a Wes Anderson film, but there are changes to the template. Gone are the drawn-out endings and the deliberately quirky storytelling, and in comes sex, violence and bad language to muddy what has been up until now a chaste and clean oeuvre. By way of counterbalance, this is Anderson’s prettiest film to date, with Robert D Yeoman’s cinematography dominated by wondrous scenery and cheerful colours. While the stellar cast might look great on the poster — Anderson regulars Bill Murray, Owen Wilson, Jason Schwartzman appear in one-scene cameos, as does newcomer Tom Wilkinson. — Jude Law, F Murray Abraham, Mathieu Almaric and Saoirse Ronan enjoy slightly more screen time, but this is Fiennes’ film, and the fun he has playing against type is very infectious indeed.