Unless the trailer is extraordinarily misleading, The Grand Budapest Hotel could have been called Wes Anderson’s Greatest Hits. And I for one couldn’t be happier. All of his stylistic flourishes seem to be present and correct, from the immaculately constructed symmetrical framing, jazzy whip zooms and idiosyncratic dialogue. Expect an elaborate tracking shot over the opening credits (Futura Bold, font nerds).
Every movie that Anderson has released since The Royal Tenenbaums (2001) is unfairly criticised for not being another Rushmore (1998), but in my opinion his body of work is close to perfection. If I was to be unreasonably captious, I’d admit that the scripts of his post-Owen Wilson collaborations seem vaguely unfinished, and haven’t always matched the polished standard of the visuals. This is the first movie of his career that Anderson hasn’t co-written, so if this script isn’t up to muster, the blame will fall at no one’s feet but his own.
Related: Moonrise Kingdom