Upon my initial venture of a scene analysis I had decided to analyze a classic: Jean-Luc Godard’s ‘Vivre Sa Vie’ (1962). That decision was compelled by my desire to explore the elegance of films in the French new wave movement. I then reconsidered as I decided my real desire was to explore a more contemporary film with that same elegance, that same sense of refinement. For this reason, I chose to analyze Wes Anderson’s ‘The Grand Budapest Hotel’ (2014).
The elegance is not accredited to the story, which essentially follows a concierge (Ralph Fiennes) who befriends his employee (Tony Revolori) to prove his innocence after he is framed for murder. No, this elegance is assuredly accredited to this film’s form. The film’s narrative is in fact dark, referencing a devastating period of war. The fact that his narrative can still center on this subject matter and remain graceful is what I admire most about Wes Anderson as a director.
I am analyzing a scene whereby the outrageous yet beloved Concierge, Gustave H, receives long time hotel visitor, Madame D (Tilda Swinton), who happens to be incredibly obsessed with him. The scene opens as the narrator offers “ our story begins with the beloved…” which then cuts from the narrators face (CU) to the title ‘M.Gustave’ written in the foreground of a red door. The narrator’s voice abruptly stops as the audience is impelled to read the name themselves. The slight awkwardness of this moment in fact sets up the tone of the remainder of the film, which continues to utilize this type of sudden abruptness through editing. The audience observes a side view of Mr Gustave as he paces across the hotel room to open the door. Here we have a beautiful synthesis between the setting and camera movement. The set, which is almost perfectly symmetrical with bright colours of pink, yellow and red, resembles that of a dollhouse. The moment an off screen knock is heard the camera smoothly pans following Gustave travel across the room in an almost overly choreographed fashion. The lens used her would be a wide angle lens which enables more information into the frame. The camera movement itself basically screams to the audience of its artificiality. The set itself is filmed in a most symmetrical manner, emphasizing the intricately detailed world of the Budapest hotel. Anderson is emphasizing the lack of realism for a particular reason here. A film does not need to mimic the physical world realistically in order to offer some truths about life. Rather, Anderson seems to suggest quite the opposite: the abstract, and overly fictionalized world in this film offers the greatest and most genuine truths about humanity. Gustave’s determinism and intrigued self actually offers an optimistic perspective of persevering despite the grim backdrop of war (war perhaps functioning here as a metaphor for all that is unexpectedly devastating). The camera simply pans back as Gustave returns to the room with an assembly of maids who hurriedly place tables and decorations around the room. The camera crosses the separating door between the two rooms, which further enhances the scene’s artificial set like nature. As Gustave guides the workers, he stands framed perfectly in center of the screen in a wide shot that reveals the depth of the room. The two butlers on each side of the frame enhance the symmetry.
A fast-paced inquisitive sounding harp that echoes the speed of the movement within the frame supplements the organized chaos of the moment. The music itself is even synthetic sounding, in that it does not enhance the realism or the emotion of the scene, rather functioning as another piece of the choreographed puzzle. Similarly, the warm yellowish lighting within the scene emphasizes the saturated colors within it.
Anderson utilizes the technique of repetition liberally throughout this film, further enhancing the choreographed atmosphere. The long shot then cuts to another abruptly silent close up of Gustave. Oddly, it is that abruptness that to me enhances the elegance of this scene because each sudden stop allows the audience a ‘breather’ where they take in the moment prior and prepare for the moment to come.
Here begins a discussion where Madame D begs Gustave to come with her in her travels, as she is afraid of being alone without him. Although this scene is bathed in a beautifully light-hearted finesse, the audience experiences the melancholy nature of an old woman afraid of loneliness. To achieve that level of depth and complexity while maintaining the sensibility of the scene is also a reason why I admire Wes Anderson. The moment is covered by a simple shot- reverse- shot technique; however, there are extended pauses where the camera lingers on the individual before they speak. Although the previous shots seems hurried, moments like this change the pace and what you are left with is a scene that satisfies both needs to immerse yourself within a film that progresses the narrative yet, every once in a while, encourages the audience to stop for a moment, and breathe with the characters. This abruptness is again carried out as Gustave interrupts his kind supportive dialogue as he suddenly notices Madame D’s “physically repul[sive]” nail polish. The melancholy guitar playing synchronically stops as Gustave changes topic matter.
This conversation is also framed in a two shot that sometimes alternates between the shot reverse shot sequences. This medium shot emphasizes a great depth of field where Gustave and Madame D are foregrounded, the food-filled table and the opened balcony doors are middle ground, and the mountains are in the background. It is this depth of field that, in my opinion, adds another touch of delicacy. Instead of constant cuts that simply enhance the action, Anderson reveals beautiful static shots of a stunning, doll house-like mis-en-scene that encourages the viewer to be more active in their watching experience. This particular frame appears to be shot using a zoom lens whereby the cameraman stands afar from the subject and zooms into them. The audience can now look around and focus on what they choose to look at as opposed to being forcefully instructed by the camera movement. The length of the shots is extended to allow time to take in such beauty. I have only witnessed such an elegant atmosphere in the films of German Director, Ernst Lubitsch, whom Anderson himself has admittedly been inspired by. I am particularly reminded of a scene in Lubitsch’s’ ‘ The Merry Widow’ (1934) where Danilo and Sonia engage in a moment of continual eye contact as they are seated at different tables at a ball. There is no speech here rather, long lingering close up shots of eyes as they stare at each other. The elegance of this moment is simply in the fact that things are suggested as opposed to literally. No words are spoken yet the audience is able to experience the character connection within this moment.
I strongly argue that this elegance and sensibility cannot exist without the acting technique of the actors. The camera can linger on an actor yet if that actor is not engaging, the stylishness ceases to exist and becomes quite oppositely unbearably awkward to watch. Fiennes is overly expressive, again in a caricatured way that mimics his artificial surroundings suggesting the characters themselves want to escape the harshness of the way through this fantasy world. The way in which Fiennes delivers his dialogue is encapsulating as he speaks in unnaturally fast pace with perfect eloquence that encourages the viewer to listen closely for every word.
The following shot is inside an elevator draped with the colors red and purple. So much so, in fact, that there is no semblance to the real physical world within this shot. Here Anderson purposely creates an awkward environment where Gustave and Madame D are seated to the right of the screen whilst the elevator man and lobby boy are in the background to the left of the screen
(perfect symmetry once again). The woman in red, as echoed by the elevator colour is distinguished from the workers dressed in purple to emphasize the social class differences. Here, the camera functions as though the fourth wall of the elevator, simply revealing the pair speaking. Again, the audience is not forced to focus on elements within the frame, they may choose to observe Gustave as he comforts Madame D, or observe the focused mannequin-like lobby boys. The audience may shift focus from one side of the screen to the other and take in the difference in dynamics within the elevator.
For myself, a film is sophisticated when it does not try so hard to direct the viewers attention but rather, encourages them to actively play a part in understanding the world presented to them; something I believe Wed Anderson has achieved incredibly in The Grand Budapest Hotel.