Recounted in the present day to a recuperating hotel guest (Jude Law), this is the story of Zero Moustafa (F. Murray Abraham), owner of the now-dilapidated Grand Budapest, whose mysterious past lingers through the hallways, suites and servants' corners. The story that unfolds harks back to the tail-end of the hotel's 1930s glory days when the fictional Republic of Zubrowka was on the edge of a major war. Pulling the hotel's strings with effortless charm is Gustave (Ralph Fiennes), concierge and devotee of the hotel's elder patrons, in particular Madame D (Tilda Swinton) who fears her death is near. With her demise comes the execution of her will. Left to Gustave at the anger of her vicious, gothy kin (incl. Adrien Brody & Willem Dafoe) is a valuable painting. From there: a robbery, a prison, a shoot-out, a ski scene, a war, a confession, a young romance and (because Anderson can't seem to resist) a dead pet.

A fast-paced beauty, this is Wes Anderson in his prime. The Grand Budapest Hotel has all of the auteur's hallmarks but never falls into cliché: the colour palettes, the impeccable production design, the wry sense of humour, the sudden harshness, the cameos! Look out for almost all of his old faithfuls — Bill Murray, Jason Schwartzman and Owen Wilson, to name a few. The ensemble cast is impeccable too, with Tilda Swinton in full elderly regalia and Ralph Fiennes beautifully embodying the suavely camp lead matched against a flamboyantly evil Adrian Brody and glowering Willem Dafoe.