A friend described The Grand Budapest Hotel thusly:
I liked it. At first I thought this is very dumb. After 15 min I was involved and had to watch the rest. It was strange and sad.
That’s a perfect review.
Wes Anderson is like that. Like, always. There’s that off-putting first impression, then an uncomfortable acquaintanceship, and before you know it that oddball has won you over.
And bittersweet, that man does bitter sweet like no one else.
Do you laugh, do you cry, do you run a marathon?
