Wes Anderson’s Worldbuilding Made The Grand Budapest Hotel His Best Movie

In the 10 years since audiences first checked into The Grand Budapest Hotel, the gravitas of the majestic mountaintop stay still marks a high point in Wes Anderson’s filmography. In his eighth feature, Anderson incorporates real history into a surreal land, pulling off his boldest setting yet. The story takes place in the fictional country of Zubrowka—a shaken snow globe of cartoonish characters and lavish architecture made even more whimsical by Anderson’s effervescent use of color and symmetry. Upon closer inspection, Zubrowka isn’t just a wondrous escape, but a parallel to mid-century Eastern Europe on the brink of World War II. Over the course of the movie, the resort’s bellhop-turned-owner Zero Moustafa (Tony Revolori) takes us back to the hotel’s heyday, recalling its fascist occupation, as well as the antics of its eccentric former concierge, Monsieur Gustave (Ralph Fiennes).
Anderson’s style is instantly recognizable: The visual balance, the quirky ensembles, the cutesy title cards and storybook tableaus. Applying this style to different landscapes is the director’s specialty, but The Grand Budapest Hotel shows the director at his best, and the key to its effectiveness lies in immersive worldbuilding. The film’s Eastern European influences are instantly recognizable in its spellbinding scenic design and art nouveau architecture. The Grand Budapest is inspired by a real hotel, built in 1896, called the Corinthia Hotel Budapest (but originally called the Grand Hotel Royal Budapest). While the world doesn’t share many other connections to Budapest, Anderson said he invited people he met in Budapest, Prague, Berlin and Poland while traveling across the continent to appear in ensemble scenes. Anderson said the world is “a pastiche of the greatest hits of Eastern Europe.” Thus, Zubrowka’s ornate architecture represents an amalgamation of styles taken from Eastern European cities and nations, though Anderson cited Prague as his primary inspiration.
The exterior of the Grand Budapest, as well as the film’s recreation of Switzerland’s Sphinx Observatory, are not multi-story buildings, but handmade miniatures. The stylized, pastel blue and pink model contrasts the curvilinear interior, which was built as a set, inspired by an old department store in Gorlitz, Germany. An opulent hotel design separates the past from the post-war present, with the colorless, Soviet-inspired transformation featured in the beginning of the film representing the collectivist values of the new regime (as well as the domination of communism in real-world Eastern Europe).