Berlinale Opening: The Grand Budapest Hotel

The first Berlinale day began with loud shouting. I had forgotten how upset people can get, when they are afraid to miss something and was completely unprepared for the rage of some Mister, who screamed loudly thinking he might not make it into the screening of Wes Andersons latest work The Grand Budapest Hotel. If he made it into the cinema after all I cannot tell you, as I was way ahead of him in the queue, but if the film was worth the fuss I will tell you after the jump…

Wes Anderson creates dream worlds, absurd scenarios, fascinating characters. Each costume, each house, each piece of furniture seems to come from the endless building set called Andersons imagination. Each last little detail is thought through and so The Grand Budapest Hotel is a celebration for the eyes made of colours, shapes and patterns.

Just like the eye, the ear has fun as well. The dialogues are fast and funny. Plays of words and scurrility combine into a firework of words. Each character is so fascinating and on point that even the tiniest supporting role becomes a highlight.

But this is where my hymn of praise stops abruptly. Because even if the story is entangled and fast paced it is also vacuous.  I like Wes Anderson films to dive into and I’m certainly entertained from beginning to end. But once the credits roll not much remains. Especially seeing so many films at Berlinale it becomes clear that most leave you with questions to this world or insights and impressions of other worlds when ducking back out onto Potsdamer Platz. The Grand Budapest Hotel doesn’t do that at all and neither have the past few Anderson features.

One can now bicker about this or just enjoy the pretty pictures and stunning actors. I decided to do the ladder, although I will certainly forget all about this film much quicker than I will some of those small and unknown Berlinale Pearls.

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