The Grand Budapest Hotel

A sign of middle age and approaching oldism, is the fact that a 4pm movie on an autumn afternoon, followed by Vietnamese noodles is perfectly acceptable as an evening out, especially if one gets to be home by 8pm on the couch, in pyjamas for a quiet night in.  We wondered, in a cinema where 3/4 of the audience were over 60 years old if they enjoyed the movie?  I had been told by one of my patients during the week, that in fact it was the worst movie they had ever seen.

For me, I am on the fence on Wes Andersons movies.  I can see the charm and the magic sprinkled with a kooky sense of humour, I just wish they were more funny or witty, that I came away thinking it was a touch of magic.  Instead I see something very visual and composed, but it just feels kind of empty and soulless.  I also think that there is movie snobbery at work, just like those who ignore popular fiction or search for the never heard of but super cool indie band, I think that there is a club of cool hipsters who will list this movie in their all time favourite top three.  To me it just reeks of a self indulgent director indulging themselves in their passion and much like Quentin Tarantino who makes boring eye candy and Peter Jackson who spends too much time devising intricate battles or 40 minute fights with spiders, I feel the story is neglected and for me the very magic of a movie or a book, is that the story should be the most important part.  No matter how visual or beautiful a movie is, if you are not touched by a character or their tale, it never remains with you.

So a 3/5 from me, only because secretly I love Ralph Fiennes and was glad to see that he Owen Wilson cameo only took up about five minutes.