"doubt"

Wes Anderson’s disarming new film, “The Grand Budapest Hotel,” is undoubtedly his most ambitious to-date. While the director’s signature visual style will be familiar to his fans, “Hotel” feels distinctly fresh and different. From its genre (a caper of sorts) to its complexity (his most complicated story yet, with multiple storylines and flashbacks); from the soundtrack (no British Invasion-era Kinks or Stones) to the script (tight, mercilessly funny, yet with tragic elements), “Hotel” is a bold, exciting step forward in Anderson’s career as a filmmaker. The main story thread follows the exploits of Gustave M. (Ralph Fiennes) and his protege, Zero Mustafa (newcomer Tony Revolori). Gustave is the titular hotel’s legendary concierge, resident expert on romantic poetry, and gentleman lover to the hotel’s migratory flock of elderly, blonde aristocrats.  When one particularly besmitten widow dies (an unrecognizable Tilda Swinton), it’s discovered that she bequeathed Gustave a priceless painting in her latest will. Her jealous family, led by her jackbooted, eldest son Dmitri (the wonderfully profane Adrien Brody), challenge the will’s legitimacy. Undeterred, Gustave and Zero abscond with the painting. Pretty soon, everyone who knew of this second will begins to disappear. Can Gustave and Zero survive Dmitri’s deadly machinations?

With streaming, you get that thing we all crave: immediate gratification. Complete spontaneity, no need to plan ahead. And that’s a big deal over the holidays, when we’re all over-stressed, overbooked, overloaded. Who has time to think about what to watch on Christmas Eve before you’re actually there?

The movie’s interest in itself is not as self-serving as it might seem. How these magical and mysterious creations come into being is a subject that fascinates audiences as well as filmmakers, and we are endlessly interested in what goes on behind the camera.

I found it interesting (if not particularly surprising) that the top box office performers of the last several decades have tended to be longer movies. Scanning over tent-pole movies released since the millennium, blockbusters like the “Lord Of The Rings” series clock in at about three hours per installment, while “Avatar” and “The Dark Knight Rises” run well over the two and a half hour mark. Other more recent superhero franchises show the same trend. Examples: “The Avengers” (143 mins.), “Captain America” (136 mins.), and “The Amazing Spiderman” (142 mins.) Then there’s the talented but increasingly self-indulgent Quentin Tarantino, whose pictures most always go on and on. Most recently, “Inglorious Basterds” (153 mins.) and “Django Unchained” (165 mins.) prove my point.