Filmbound - Episode 16: Isle of Dogs

Episode 16 features a main review of Wes Anderson's ISLE OF DOGS as well as the creation of the FILMBOUND canon.  From time to time we’ll devote a segment in which Paul Markoff and I will induct a film into our personal collections of all-time greats. Our FILMBOUND canons are separate, so we do not have to agree on whether a film belongs. There’s also no requirement that what we pick conforms to critical consensus.

To make constructing our lists less predictable, we will be limited to films released beginning in 1995.  That year provides enough distance from today to search for important films during our lifetime and dig up forgotten gems. It’s also after PULP FICTION’s release in 1994, which seems like a watershed moment in film history, especially in helping to shape the tastes and willingness to look beyond the mainstream for our generation.



As a starting point 1995 is also shortly before the introduction of DVD.  Although there's the impression that everything made it to disk, arthouse and foreign films, particularly those released in the mid-1990s and a bit after DVD technology became available to consumers, sometimes fell through the cracks or, if they were published, have gone out of print.  CITIZEN KANE and VERTIGO don't need more critics championing them at this point in time to get burgeoning cinephiles to search for them; however, films in recent history may need a revival, especially as each year's flood of titles threatens to have us drowning in new films.

Although it wasn't planned, Paul and I each picked films by filmmaking brothers to establish our FILMBOUND canons.  I inducted THE KID WITH A BIKE (LE GAMIN AU VÉLO), the 2011 drama from directors Jean-Pierre and Luc Dardenne, while Paul selected the love-and-baseball comedy FEVER PITCH from directors Peter and Bobby Farrelly, which also made my 2005 Honorable Mentions list.  While my choice wouldn't be characterized as an obscure pick--it's available as an excellent special edition from The Criterion Collection--I thought this particular film made sense in representing what I value in cinema.  I also feel as though the remarkable consistency of the Dardennes also means that individual films don't necessarily stand out.  Consider this a good place to start if you're not familiar with their work.

Upcoming episodes:

-May 16: I FEEL PRETTY and our recommendations segment
-May 23: YOU WERE NEVER REALLY HERE and a discussion about who are the biggest new movie stars of the last twenty years and what defines a star in today's Hollywood
-May 30: AVENGERS: INFINITY WAR and our recommendations segment
-June 6: TULLY and a discussion about sequels, cinematic universes, and crossovers we'd like to see

The Grand Budapest Hotel

THE GRAND BUDAPEST HOTEL (Wes Anderson, 2014)

War is encroaching on the Republic of Zubrowka, a fictional country on Europe’s farthest eastern boundary, but for the main characters in THE GRAND BUDAPEST HOTEL their concerns are being dutiful in their jobs and then saving their own necks as they get entangled in a murder mystery. It is in 1932 at the luxurious mountaintop accommodations where lobby boy Zero Moustafa (Tony Revolori) comes to fill an existence as empty as his name. Although lacking in experience, education, and family, concierge M. Gustave (Ralph Fiennes) takes a shine to the conscientious lad and keeps him on as his protégé. M. Gustave teaches him how to attend to the guests, particularly the needy, old, wealthy, blonde women, and to appreciate the finer things.

M. Gustave’s years of fastidious attention to eightysomething Madame D. (Tilda Swinton) is rewarded when, upon her death, he learns that she has bequeathed a priceless painting to him. Rather than stick around for the rest of her horrid family to contest the will, M. Gustave and Zero depart her mansion in the neighboring state of Lutz with the masterpiece in hand. An accusation of homicide is directed at M. Gustave, and shortly thereafter authorities haul him off to prison. Zero carries on at The Grand Budapest Hotel in his stead while providing assistance from the outside for his escape and their subsequent adventure to clear M. Gustave’s name.

Through ingenious visual design writer-director Wes Anderson shows how everyday life is what happens while the greater course of history develops around us. Anderson uses a lot of shot-reverse shot construction and first-person perspective to maintain a narrower frame on the primary action while bigger events take place outside the protagonists’ view. The 1932 section, which comprises the greatest portion of the film’s running time, is photographed in Academy ratio, a creative choice that mirrors cinema of its day and suggests an inability of M. Gustave and Zero to see beyond their enclosed domain. (The 2.35:1 frame for the scenes in 1968 and 1.85:1 aspect ratio in 1985 and present day not only help to orient the action in time but allow for wider consideration of what happened in the past.) Insidious developments are afoot in the nation, yet the protagonists are practically incapable of seeing them, as when M. Gustave and Zero’s attention is drawn to news of Madame D.’s death in the newspaper than the large-type, above-the-fold headline speculating about war.

For Zero, who recounts his youthful tale to a young writer (Jude Law), the past exists in the brightness and pastels of nostalgic memory and is to be endlessly explored. THE GRAND BUDAPEST HOTEL was not shot and is not projected in 3D, but the camera scans and probes the frame in every direction, lending surprising dimensionality to the flat surface. The effect is akin to examining microfiche. If one scrutinizes every corner, perhaps what went unobserved and was thought unremarkable at the time will be revealed.

Alexandre Desplat’s score is almost constant as it supports the story in silent cinema fashion. Alternating between jaunty folk music and the rich, booming sounds of an organ, the music pushes the brisk action onward at a breakneck pace. The film editing has a musical quality to it as it bounces between reactions, and Anderson’s visual jokes come quickly too, whether it’s an absurd coat check receipt, the signs switching on a museum’s closing time, or the brief glimpse of a thug holding his shoes to explain how he snuck up on his target. THE GRAND BUDAPEST HOTEL is packed with details, and Anderson strives to make some of these flourishes as invisible as M. Gustave and Zero attempt to be in their servitude.

Although THE GRAND BUDAPEST HOTEL possesses an elegant Continental demeanor and a confection’s appearance, steely resolve and a tender heart are tucked inside. Zero fondly recalls the days he spent at the hotel, but those memories are also laced with pain. Long after the main action in the past The Grand Budapest Hotel is described as “an enchanting old ruin”. Its former glory may no longer be visible to the naked eye, but the charms the hotel holds for its admirers cannot be erased by remodeling or the march of time.

Grade: A