Tyler Bellavance ’29

by Tyler Bellavance ’29 on November 6, 2025

Wes Anderson, known for his auteur style of literary geek, used a post-post-modernism approach in the creation of the film, The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014). Post-post-modernism—a style that embodies the goal of recovering the sincerity of film, focusing on existentialism, ethics, morality, and the absurdity of coincidences—ties in with Anderson’s distinct and vibrant visual style, unique cinematography, and narrative form, along with a star-studded cast to mold an excellent film that both creates lighthearted laughter and poses serious questions to the viewer.

The Grand Budapest Hotel tells the story of the elderly Zero Moustafa (F. Murray Abraham), recorded by an unnamed author (Jude Law) who treats the viewers of the film as readers of his book. Mirroring the narration style, the movie is split into five parts, like chapters of a book, all with unique titles. The film begins with a short introduction to our two narrators meeting at the dull, orange, run-down Grand Budapest Hotel. The two begin to talk over dinner once the author finds out about Mr. Moustafa’s ownership of the hotel, and over dinner, Moustafa begins telling the story of the once great hotel. The young Moustafa (Tony Revolori), a refugee of war with zero family or experience, finds himself working as a lobby boy under the renowned concierge M. Gustave (Ralph Fiennes). Gustave takes the young man under his wing, and as they grow closer as mentor and mentee, they also become closer as friends. A friend of Gustave and regular at the hotel (we’ll leave it at just a friend so you can discover their relationship within the film) passes away, and Gustave is invited to her inheritance meeting. After some trouble on the train, Gustave and Moustafa arrive at the manor, making it just in time for the reading of the will. Surprisingly enough, Gustave is awarded his friend’s prized possession, a painting of a boy holding an apple, appropriately named “Boy with Apple.” The awarding of the painting creates great conflict between Gustave and the family, especially between her son and the new patriarch of her family, Dmitri Desgoffe-und-Taxis (Adrien Brody). With the help of J. G. Jopling (William Dafoe), the family’s helper, part-time hitman, and supervillain, Desgoffe-und-Taxis blames the death of his mother on Gustave. With the dramatic disappearance of her butler, Serge X (Mathieu Amalric), who was the only witness to her death, Gustave becomes the suspected killer after leaving with the portrait. Further ahead in the timeline, the family’s lawyer mentions a missing document and refuses to back down to intimidation. The following parts of the movie are filled with comedic highs, melancholic lows, and fun clichés, like a prison-break and wacky chase scenes as hitman Jopling is in search of the missing document, which all add up to an exhilarating climax involving Gustave, Moustafa, his fiancée Agatha (Saoirse Ronan), Desgoffe-und-Taxis, the police, and a large military group within the hotel itself, which ends with a complete tonal switch that will leave the viewer thinking deeply.

Not only is the fictional story itself a delight to watch, the narrative style is also masterful. The strategy of splitting a film into parts is commonly used by Anderson and other directors like Quentin Tarantino. Not only does the book-like feel create a new type of relationship between the narrator and the audience, but it also nuances characters and creates thrilling mysteries. What builds on this to exalt The Grand Budapest Hotel as an amazing film is Anderson’s visual auteur style. Anderson switches his visual style greatly between parts and settings. The new hotel, fallen from grace, is covered in an orange, grey, white, and brown color scheme. While still vibrant as Anderson’s work usually is, the vividness of the orange is cut down by the dull colors to create a solemn, dirty feel to the hotel, which really ties with the melancholic feeling of the fall of grace. To directly contrast this, the bright pinks, yellows, reds, and purples of the hotel at its peak perfectly complement the comedic and lighthearted feel in the hotel. 

Anderson also utilizes the strategic style of metafiction, a film that is conscious of itself. Our narrator—who pauses and speaks to us directly, sometimes making jokes—almost breaks the fourth wall by having conversations with the audience, sometimes calling us out and sometimes asking us questions. The use of metafiction underlines the absurdity of circumstances covered in the post-post-modernism style. Moustafa wears his purple lobby boy hat with the words spelled out in all gold and his purple jacket and pants for almost the entirety of the movie, even at a wedding. The only time he changes is when he is wearing different disguises, some ridiculous, which fit in with the clichés of prison break and heist. To give the film a more mythical feel, tied with the use of literary geek auteurism, Anderson uses distinct cinematography, which gives the set a more surreal feel. Anderson is known for his symmetrical camera shots, strange camera zooms used very rarely by other directors, moments of slow-motion, and the use of miniatures like the Grand Budapest Hotel. Anderson uses all these film form techniques to perfection and creates an uncanny, changing environment with great comedic effects that are directly opposed by the melancholic themes of the film that are built on a narrative form that’s  character-driven rather than plot-driven. 

The Grand Budapest Hotel is a unique movie and a breath of fresh air compared to the Hollywood studio system. The plot, narrative structure, film form, auteurism of the director, unique cinematography, and vibrant, changing visual style all tie together perfectly in an amazing package that is an instant classic film. If you are tired of the factory-feel of movies of the modern era and want a fun, surprising film that you will think about the next morning, The Grand Budapest Hotel is certainly for you.