What Does ‘The Grand Budapest Hotel’ Reveal About Nostalgia?
Nostalgia in ‘The Grand Budapest Hotel’
The potency of cinematic nostalgia often stems from a juxtaposition of presence and absence, bringing back memories in vivid detail and spectacular fantasy, but with flickering images always in motion and continually eluding your grasp—somehow both spectral and haunted. Perhaps no living director understands this better than Wes Anderson. His recurring focus on the pleasures and pangs of childhood, as well as the retro designs and palettes of his films, expresses both a wistful vision of the past and a canny understanding of how it lives in the present.
The film is rich with longing for the beauty and grace of a society literally foreign to Anderson: a vision of ‘Old World’ Europe as the center of civilization and sophistication. It’s so perfectly, thoughtfully crafted because it doubles the nostalgia: it’s not just about the characters’ desire to revive a vanishing idea of Europe, it’s also about Anderson’s own nostalgia for the films of the great European directors who shared this same desire.
Nostalgia permeates The Grand Budapest Hotel’s fictional setting, ‘the former Republic of Zubrowka,’ which was ‘once the seat of an empire.’ This suggests a particularly Eastern European sense of loss and longing, where crumbling palaces, proud town squares, and half-remembered waltzes spark memories of a grand culture gradually eroded by two world wars and the enforced drabness of the Soviet era.
The Grand Budapest Hotel contrasts the beauty and aristocratic refinement of the lost world of yesterday to the brutality of ascendant fascism— through this filter, Anderson portrays the elegance of the once-stately hotel as a facade, even in its prime.
Nostalgia is indeed an explicit theme in the film. It is evoked by the juxtaposition of the hotel as it was at the height of its splendor in the early 30s with how drab it became in the communist post-war period. However, nostalgia is not really a central problem in this movie. It’s there, of course, but not as a problem, not as something it struggles with. Rather than sorrow at the loss of the lovely world of yesterday, the movie delights in its dazzling, fictional reappearance before us.
The film opens with typical Andersonian nostalgia for a lost world—this time, the glory days of an aging European hotel. Anderson’s adorable world of knickknacks and nostalgia crossed a line in showing those scenes, and in that moment, violence became absurd. Within the laws of his own world-making, Anderson can only stretch so far before his art begins to break down.
Wes Anderson’s Grand Budapest Hotel is a comedy about the tragedy of nostalgia, but nostalgia can also be a resurrecting force. This paper explores how Wes Anderson strategically uses nostalgia in his 2014 film The Grand Budapest Hotel as a form of social commentary.
When Zero softly but firmly explains that he has come to Zubrowka because his family has been killed and his village burned, Gustave is immediately chastened and horrified. ‘This is disgraceful, and it’s beneath the standards of the Grand Budapest. I apologize,’ he says, ‘on behalf of the hotel.’ It’s a very Lubitschean joke, collapsing the distance between an individual and an institution, and striking a light note that contrasts poignantly with Gustave’s tears and profound remorse.
Gustave embodies Lubitsch’s elusive, double-faced style. Lubitsch never shied away from showing (and getting a laugh from) all the sweat and labor that went into maintaining his glittering worlds. There are jokes and montages about harried but consummately professional staff running through corridors and up and down stairs; Anderson does this too, as Gustave and Zero first run to keep the hotel going, and then run from the law after Gustave is accused of murdering Madame D.
Those dismembered fingers lying in the snow, and the assassin’s pleasure in violence are meant to be disturbing. Gustave is an absurd character, but proudly spouting poetry in the face of a sadist made him noble. He proved to be the strongest character in the film because he could slip into the world of art whenever he needed.
Ultimately, Gustave did not die that day on the cliff face. He returned to his hotel. And surprisingly, he gave me insight into the power and purpose of art. Be it poetry, painting or any other form, art is something strong. It amuses, and makes our lives sweeter, but most of all, it provides refuge in terrible hours.
Furthermore, The Grand Budapest Hotel is filled with Mr. Anderson’s distinctive and pored-over touches: pastel color schemes, baroque costumes… The great theme of the movie is nostalgia, and how it colours our view of the past, and how the past, as it truly was, is ultimately impenetrable.
Near the end, the aged Zero Mustafa is asked by the ‘author’ if he kept the old hotel in order to stay in touch with ‘his world,’ the world of Gustave. No, he replies with a smile, that world was already gone at the time of Gustave, ‘but he sustained the illusion with marvellous grace.’
Wes Anderson’s Cinematic Style in The Grand Budapest Hotel
The Grand Budapest Hotel uses a not dissimilar narrative stratagem, a nesting-doll contrivance conveyed in a blink-and-you’ll-miss-a-crucial-part-of-it opening. A young lady visits a park and gazes at a bust of a beloved “Author,” who is then made flesh in the person of Tom Wilkinson. He recalls his younger self in the person of Jude Law, who recounts his meeting with Mr. Moustafa (F. Murray Abraham), the owner of the title hotel. This hotel is a legendary edifice falling into obsolescence, and Law’s “Author” is curious as to why the immensely wealthy Moustafa chooses to bunk in a practically closet-size room on his yearly visits to the place.
Moreover, all of this material is conveyed not just in the standard Wes Anderson style, e.g., meticulously composed and designed shots with precise and very constricted camera movements. In ‘Hotel,’ Anderson’s refinement of his particular moviemaking mode is so distinct that his debut feature, the hardly unstylized ‘Bottle Rocket,’ looks like a Cassavetes picture by comparison.
Although it’s packed with incident, there’s a stillness to the film that makes looking at it feel as if you’re staring at a zoetrope image of a snow globe. At the same time, a stray epithet here or the spectacle of some severed digits there pulls in a different direction. This suggests that Anderson’s conjured world is subject to tensions that exist entirely outside of it, calling attention to that which is unseen on the screen: an anxious creator who wants everything just so, but can’t control the intrusion of vulgarity or cruelty.
Furthermore, much as ‘The Grand Budapest Hotel’ takes on the aspect of a cinematic confection, it grapples with the very raw and, yes, real stuff of humanity from an unusual but highly illuminating angle. It is a movie about the masks we conjure to suit our aspirations, and the cost of keeping up appearances.
Anderson, the illusion-maker, is more than graceful; he’s dazzling. With this movie, he’s created an art-refuge that consoles and commiserates. It’s an illusion, but it’s not a lie.
The Grand Budapest Hotel finds Wes Anderson once again using ornate visual environments to explore deeply emotional ideas. Typically stylish but deceptively thoughtful, the film showcases Anderson’s ability to blend visual artistry with profound themes.
In essence, The Grand Budapest Hotel is a stylish, fantastical film, which is sometimes comic and sometimes tragic in its re-imagining. Over the years, Wes Anderson’s movies have steadily developed a lush, eccentric world that operates on its own terms, and ‘The Grand Budapest Hotel’ excels at exploring it.
Additionally, Wes Anderson’s newest film recounts the adventures of M. Gustave, a legendary concierge at a famous European hotel between the wars, and Zero Moustafa, the lobby boy who becomes his most trusted friend. The story involves the theft and recovery of a priceless Renaissance painting and the battle for an enormous family fortune—all against the back-drop of a suddenly and dramatically changing Europe.
Lastly, the rap on Wes Anderson is that he doesn’t make movies so much as build castles in the air. To Anderson haters, from Bottle Rocket and Rushmore to Fantastic Mr. Fox and Moonrise Kingdom, his films continue to evoke strong reactions, showcasing his unique style and vision.
Critics’ Consensus: How Does ‘The Grand Budapest Hotel’ Compare?
The Grand Budapest Hotel is magical! I adore The Grand Budapest Hotel. It is the most Wes Anderson movie the quirky American auteur has ever done. Most, not in the sense of having the greatest amount of Anderson’s trademark aesthetics crammed in, but rather, in the sense of these aesthetics realizing their full potential.
Furthermore, the presentation of this film is immaculate. The narrative takes up the form of a nestle doll set that starts and ends in a similar manner. Anderson’s obsession with symmetry is raised to a whole new level; each setting neatly wraps around the central adventure and holds it in great affection, reverence, and melancholy.
What surprised me the most was perhaps how funny The Grand Budapest Hotel is. Comedy is present in all of Anderson’s movies; however, none of them can measure up to this film. The humor is dry, sometimes physical, and oftentimes unexpected.
Additionally, The Grand Budapest Hotel is a showcase of masterful filmmaking—it is perfectly framed, perfectly choreographed, and perfectly edited. It is a well-balanced film that loses not an ounce of human warmth in its pursuit for precision.
The film is a book who is telling the story of Zero and The Grand Budapest Hotel of the past. The two sit down to dinner in the now rundown hotel, utterly sad, and old, Zero and a young, curious writer, the Author. There are many things about this film that are a delight to behold, and one thing that makes the film as enjoyable as it is the characters. In The Grand Budapest Hotel, there is a certain gentleness that the characters embody that endears the viewer to them almost immediately.
Moreover, there is sorrow, there is hope, there is love, and there is loss. We follow the character, Zero, throughout his employment at The Grand Budapest Hotel. He has zero hotel experience, zero schooling, and zero living family members. M. Gustave takes him in as a protege and teaches him the ins and outs of running a hotel with an iron fist. Zero falls in love, so quickly yet so genuinely. Everything that the characters do is genuine, even the ones trying to kill the main characters at every turn.
One would not expect there to be comedy in a movie about the downfall of a once exceptional hotel and an old man’s grief. However, the comedy is tasteful and subtle. There is one scene I remember near the end, in which a disgruntled heir attempts to shoot Zero and M. Gustave, triggering all of the hotel guests to brandish their own weapons, resulting in a spontaneous shootout.
It is the simple story of quirky characters in this quiet, yet eccentric world that is built in The Grand Budapest Hotel that has me raving about it even two hours after watching it.
Finally, The Grand Budapest Hotel features an odd narrative structure that works very well for the film, again adding to its uniqueness and freshness. The film explores themes of fascism, nostalgia, friendship, and loyalty, and further studies analyze the function of color as an important storytelling device.
The characters are extremely well written, with the bond between Gustave and Zero being the backbone of the whole movie as it’s so well written. A transfixing chord of melancholy runs through Wes Anderson’s latest film, a curt, chipper European caper called The Grand Budapest Hotel.
The narrative is fun and full. An epic adventure consisting of murder, ski chases, lustful dowagers, pre-war tensions, prison breaks, poetry, and more. It’s a delightfully complex brain-teaser, with so many moving parts and clever mechanisms that watching it becomes a giddy race to absorb it all.
Exploring the Themes of Love and Loyalty in ‘The Grand Budapest Hotel’
Gustave grills Zero when he first meets him. He wants to make sure that he is well-suited for the job of lobby boy. In the role of lobby boy, Zero must prove his undying loyalty to the Grand Budapest Hotel and to Gustave as his superior. When Zero passes Gustave’s tests, he is rewarded in kind with Gustave’s unfaltering loyalty. The bond of trust between the concierge and his protégé is profound; they stick together throughout many hardships.
Gustave’s ultimate act of loyalty comes at the end when he dies at the hands of the fascist soldiers in order to save Zero’s life. While Gustave seems like a rather superficial character, he is, in fact, a man of integrity. He is willing to put himself on the line on behalf of his young friend.
While Gustave’s relationship with Madame D. is primarily carnal in nature, there is also an actual love shared between them. Madame D. feels more loving and trusting towards Gustave than towards her own children. Promiscuous though he may be, Gustave is capable of deep affection and love. He does not shy away from expressing his romantic affiliations, particularly through his recitation of romantic poetry.
Agatha and Zero also share a profound love between them. They kiss passionately at the movie theater, proposing to one another and professing their romantic attachment. Their love binds them together through the ensuing caper, but is tragically cut short by Agatha’s death. Even after her unfortunate expiration, however, Zero continues to honor her memory. He tells the Author that he purchased the Grand Budapest Hotel in her honor. Love is an important theme in an otherwise farcical and wacky film.
In Wes Anderson’s The Grand Budapest Hotel, the moments of absurdity are essential to understanding the humanity of the story. Our relationships with others define our lives. Gustave clearly feels a strong bond with Zero early on. He treats him as a friend once they are outside the hotel, but Zero does not feel that same way immediately. Gustave pours him wine (which Zero does not drink) and plans that, if things were to go south, they should run away together. Gustave even chooses Zero as his heir to his estate when he is gone. Zero is the closest thing that Gustave has to family, and the hotel is the closest thing either of them has to a home.
Gustave is delighted and surprised, as he is probably not thanked in the same way for his services in the hotel. He treats the prisoners the way he would anyone else, likely seeing them in a very similar light. He says that even, ‘The most dreadful and unattractive person only needs to be loved and they will open up like a flower.’ Living for the hotel and acting as a concierge are Gustave’s sole purposes in life. This is why he does not let go of his duties even while behind bars, giving letters to Zero to read on his behalf to take care of the hotel the way that he would.
When Gustave escapes through the sewer with the prisoners and meets with Zero, he is quite the opposite of his charming self. He is in the shoes of the concierge as a boss and not as a companion. Zero has no disguises for them, no safe house, and has not brought a bottle of l’air de panache for Gustave to freshen up with. When Zero rebuts with the story of how his father and family were killed and how the violence of the war caused him to leave, Gustave realizes the error of his ways. He apologizes, ‘On behalf of the hotel… Don’t make excuses for me. I owe you my life. You are my dear friend and protégé, and I am very proud of you.’
Anderson uses the bonds of Zero and Gustave, and later the addition of Agatha, to present a realistic portrayal of how life goes on when tragedy occurs. All you can do is laugh and try to make the best of your situation. Anderson carefully weaves in the exaggeration of comedic situations and actions with the grim reality of Gustave being framed, people being murdered, and the government falling to a new regime in just a way that makes you think about what you’re watching. This approach makes you question why you feel the way you do.
What Makes ‘The Grand Budapest Hotel’ a Visual Masterpiece?
The Grand Budapest Hotel is like a Faberge egg: so much whimsy and beauty and point-of-view wrapped up in a comparatively tiny 100 minutes. It’s a witty, irreverent film. Just when you think you’ve regained your footing after yet another bizarre, hilarious and ultimately charming plot twist, it trips you up again.
Director Wes Anderson creates such specifically visual, detailed, delightful movies, and there’s plenty to think about too. Though The Grand Budapest Hotel is larger than life and highly stylized, as is the case for most of Anderson’s movies, it’s also touching and thoughtful. Teens and their parents will find a good balance between the bizarre and the true. They may even recognize themselves in the hopeful, aspiring yet devoted Monsieur Gustave or his longtime friend, Zero.
Moreover, it’ll make you think about friendship and loyalty while transporting you to a world that seems both strange and familiar. That’s a feat.
The visual style is peculiar, almost like a comic with many ideas. While it has many familiar ingredients—from the atmosphere to the ensemble of Anderson regulars in nearly every role—everything about The Grand Budapest Hotel is a welcome dose of originality in its allegiance to Anderson’s vision.
Director Wes Anderson, known for his unique style, has done it again. This story seems simple at first glance, but it is very complex. The hotel has a unique and flamboyant look, a witty story, and intriguing performances. The director deserves credit for creating a unique and memorable story with especially funny gags.
With this film, Anderson has built a thoroughly likable vision of a prewar Europe—no more real, perhaps, than the kind of Viennese light-operetta that sustained much of 1930s Hollywood—but a distinctive, attractive proposition all the same. This is a nimblefooted, witty piece, but one also imbued with a premonitory sadness at the coming conflagration.
The Grand Budapest Hotel is a stylish, fantastical film; sometimes comic and sometimes tragic in its re-imagining. Over the years, Wes Anderson’s movies have steadily developed a lush, eccentric world that operates on its own terms, and ‘The Grand Budapest Hotel’ excels at exploring it.
What follows is a hugely ambitious merging of filmmaking styles and genres. Grand Budapest combines gentle comedy with drama, murder mystery, heist caper, prison movie, and romance.
A Journey Through the Characters: Who Are the Heart of ‘The Grand Budapest Hotel’?
The central figure of this period is equally a figure of fantasy on par with the setting: Monsieur Gustave H. (Ralph Fiennes), the giddy concierge of the Grand Budapest Hotel. He happily seduces the older clientele while offering dubious life advice to the young doting bellboy Zero (newcomer Tony Revolori, playing the youthful version of Abraham’s character).
Furthermore, the resulting chemistry between Gustave and the increasingly confident Zero, as they head across the countryside with various forces on their trail, consolidates aspects of several recent Anderson ventures. Like ‘The Darjeeling Limited,’ much of the exposition takes place on a train. Additionally, like ‘The Fantastic Mr. Fox,’ chase scenes maintain a marvelous cartoon-like fluidity. As with ‘Moonrise Kingdom,’ the goofy romance and high stakes plot belie the sincerely touching relationships beneath the surface.
Moreover, Gustave’s peculiar nature is itself a wry caricature of European ideals in the first quarter of the twentieth century. His flamboyance and sexual promiscuity are at odds with his ostensibly conservative views on etiquette. A profound and ridiculous figure whose suave demeanor equally calls up memories of Oscar Wilde and Cary Grant, Gustave embodies Anderson’s restless approach.
Despite the relentless charm factor, Anderson’s whimsical expressivity is not devoid of greater significance. A comedic allegory for wartime relationships, ‘The Grand Budapest Hotel’ explores the tragedies of socioeconomic collapse in the wake of Communist uprising and fascist threats without giving the conflicts a name.
The Grand Budapest Hotel pivots around the character of Monsieur Gustave H (Ralph Fiennes), the hotel concierge who believes that etiquette helps define civilization. Gustave’s morals are no match for his manners as he enjoys sexual congress with guests of both sexes. It’s a feast of a role, and Fiennes, exuding Olympian verbal dexterity, nails every comic and dramatic nuance. He’s sensational.
Anderson cleverly surrounds Gustave with glorious liars, lovers, and clowns. Newcomer Tony Revolori excels as Zero Moustafa, the lobby boy Gustave takes under his wing. The vain concierge flirts with Agatha (Saoirse Ronan), Zero’s true love, who carries a facial birthmark shaped like Mexico. Agatha works at Mendl’s bakery, where her famed pastry, Courtesan au chocolat, helps thicken the plot.
Additionally, it’s the murder of Madame D and a stolen Renaissance painting that puts Gustave and Zero on the run from cops, led by Inspector (Edward Norton) and Dmitri (Adrien Brody), Madame D’s ruthless son, and his henchman Jopling, a killer played all in black by a killer-funny Willem Dafoe, a Dr. Strangelove cruel enough to throw a cat out a window.
The film has a careless ease that’s irresistible. Characters tumble out with frenzied unpredictability, including Bill Murray, Owen Wilson, and Jason Schwartzman as a trio of wacky concierges.
Anderson wants to create more than the movie equivalent of a pastry from Mendl’s. He frames his film with an older Zero (F. Murray Abraham) telling his story to a young writer (Jude Law). Anderson credits Viennese writer Stefan Zweig for inspiring the script he wrote with Hugo Guinness.
The Grand Budapest Hotel recounts the adventures of M. Gustave, a legendary concierge at a famous European hotel between the wars, and Zero Moustafa, the lobby boy who becomes his most trusted friend. The story involves the theft and recovery of a priceless Renaissance painting and the battle for an enormous family fortune—all against the backdrop of a suddenly and dramatically changing world.
In the 1930s, the Grand Budapest Hotel is a popular European ski resort, presided over by concierge Gustave H. (Ralph Fiennes). Zero, a junior lobby boy, becomes Gustave’s friend and protege.