"An Ode to 'Bandersnatch' and All the Things I Wish I Could Change" by Andrea Panaligan

I once saw a tweet that said something like, “You guys have never spent most of your days spacing out and imagining scenarios in your head and it shows,” or something, but I can’t remember exactly.

There are a lot of things I can’t remember. I’ve been meaning to google what it means when I can’t tell the difference between what happens in dreams and what happens in real life, but I always end up not remembering.

There are a lot of things I can remember, though. Right now I am overwhelmed by an itch I cannot scratch, a feeling of unrest I can never undo.

***

I’m too proud to admit that I’m a huge believer of alternate realities, but I am. Every time something goes wrong, the first thing that comes to mind is, “Somewhere out there in the universe is a timeline where this is not going wrong.” Every time I want something, the first thing that comes to mind is, “Somewhere out there in the universe is a timeline on which I have this.”

At first it’s romantic. Cutesy. Oh, maybe in another universe. To an extent, it is scientifically accurate. It even made me a better poet, I think (emphasis on the “I think”)—it made me seem more optimistic. Hopeful. And isn’t poetry more heartbreaking when it’s hopeful?

I don’t know what age it stops being hopeful and just becomes plain heartbreaking, though. I’m at that age, I think.

Okay, I think I’ve tiptoed around it enough, so I’ll just say it outright before I change my mind: very, very frequently I use my belief in alternate realities as an out; a defense mechanism, I think? I can never remember anything because I am never here—I am always somewhere out there in the universe, where nothing goes wrong and I have what I want to have. I have trouble remembering if I actually did something or said something in this world—my world, the real world—or if I just pictured it in my head, but I’m too afraid to ask. I can just simply imagine a world where I don’t have to ask, after all.

***

Since it looks like we’re telling secrets here, have another one: there are many, many, many, many, many things I wish I never did. Sometimes I just want to cry thinking about them. Shed my skin, maybe. I know we’re only human and we all make mistakes and all that faux-motivational the-past-is-in-the-past Quotes of the Day, but that just makes me feel more helpless—the past is in the past, I know that, but I’m stuck in it! I am in the past that is in the past!

It’s easier to create all these alternate lives—to start over, shed my skin—in my head than it is to actually start over and shed my skin here, in my world, the real world. It gives me a sense of control, like I finally get to decide the ending of my story.

***

I think you have to be some kind of psychopath to find comfort in a Black Mirror episode; maybe I am. I’ve been trying to write a review of Bandersnatch for what feels like weeks (I’m not so sure)—I put on my little Film Critic hat and took notes and tried to be as objective as possible, but any kind of review I tried to write that was detached from what it made me feel felt…pointless? I know rule number one of film criticism is to never talk about how it made you feel, so I’m gonna try not to, at least for the next few paragraphs.

Bandersnatch is the forerunner of this new genre/medium/experience that was practically destined for Black Mirror. The anthology’s episode plots very often double as thought experiments, so what better way to expound on that than by making the audience participate? Black Mirror in itself is already a feat—its bleakness is never just bleak for the sake of being bleak. It never fails to pack a punch—that punch usually being humanity’s impending doom that we brought upon ourselves. But after four seasons of bleakness and murder and humanity’s impending doom, the audience is, inevitably so, becoming desensitized. What used to be a series I could only watch one episode of every week because it stressed me out that much became something I binged. Season 4, the first to premiere on Netflix, was by far the breeziest—oh cool, he’s cloning them, when’s the next plot twist?

So this, this interactive episode/film/event was obviously a cause for anticipation; this was something new and exciting, not just for Black Mirror, but for television in general. It’s something that would practically force me to think about what I’m watching, because I control it, I get to make things happen.

News of it started circulating throughout last year, whispers about something interactive, etc. etc., but nothing concrete was confirmed until mid-December. It is interactive, starring Dunkirk breakout star Fionn Whitehead, with a reported 312 minutes of footage. The surprise trailer drop was, quite tragically, the highlight of my holidays then. I was staring at the Netflix homepage the day of the launch, etc., etc., you get the picture—I was excited.

If you’ve seen it then you know it warrants at least a second viewing, and so I did. I was adamant on unlocking every single iteration (and reiteration) of every single scene they shot, so I watched it four times in a row, only stopping when I was sure there were no more alternate paths to be taken. It only took me a second viewing, however, to realize that the novelty wears off much quicker than I would have liked. The tweets were coming in, and people were saying it was very gimmicky, and the story wasn’t really strong enough to match this new genre/medium/experience, and at that point, I agreed. I absolutely lost my marbles when my screen made me choose between Sugar Puffs and Frosties and Stefan (Fionn Whitehead) pointed at Frosties when I told him to, but somehow I wanted more. I didn’t want to run out of endings. So I watched it two more times that night, because I wanted more. 

I knew Bandersnatch wasn’t perfect, but that just made me more protective of it. I mean, how could people not like it? Were they not completely flabbergasted in the face of a choice point like I was? (It’s true that I didn’t like it as much when I watched it the second time, but seeing as I saw it four times, then another time, then another time, then another time, I’m thinking maybe I do love it, after all). I keep reading these reviews that all essentially boil down to, “It’s not actually interactive. It doesn’t really give you much of a choice!” and I’m sitting there, dumfounded (and honestly a bit hurt that something I truly love is getting so-so reviews), because wasn’t that the point? You’re not supposed to have control. You’re supposed to get the same bleak ending(s), no matter which permutation you end up choosing. This is Black Mirror, after all. 

But then I think, maybe they have a point. Certainly the geniuses behind Shut Up and Dance and Be Right Back can do better than “Destroy Computer” vs “Throw Tea Over Computer.” But what other episode/film/event has burrowed itself into the crevices of my mind for over three weeks (and counting), causing me to rewatch it again and again and again despite knowing it all ends the same, grim way? This mental do-I-love-it-or-do-I-hate-it limbo convinced me that no, I can never write a review of this; at least not one that follows the first rule of film criticism. Sorry, film critics—talking about my feelings is my only talent, after all.

What I’m trying to say is this: As someone who believes her life is greener on the other side of the universe, Bandersnatch angered me, scolded me, and ultimately healed me. I gasped when Stefan, sitting in his living room, defeated, said, “I should try again,” and then transported himself to another dimension where he could try again—that is a part of myself that I keep closed off and locked up, and seeing it onscreen—and so casually too—felt like I was being ripped open. Oh, how many times have I sat in my own living room, writhing in my own defeat, wishing I could try again!

So maybe I see myself in Stefan. Maybe the reason I keep watching it again and again and shielding it from the fangs of (objective) critics again and again is because I am Stefan. Maybe I see myself in the way he says, assertively, “I’m trying again.” Maybe I subtly flinch everytime I make a wrong choice and the film takes me back to the previous scene so I could choose again.

So maybe I see myself in Stefan, and seeing him end up in the same place I knew he would be no matter how hard I try to make my choices different this time, maybe that hurt me. That isn’t really an ~alternate~ dimension if what’s happening is not different to what happened in all the other dimensions. Maybe it hurt me to think that the things that went wrong here, in my world, the real world, could still go wrong there, in all my other worlds, and the things I can never get here are things I still long for no matter where I am.

But maybe it’s cathartic. Maybe on my fifth watch, or maybe sixth, I realized, hey, maybe the reason I’m watching this so much is because this is what I want. Maybe I don’t want to have control, in the real world or in any other world(s). Maybe it’s true that there are alternate dimensions, and like Stefan, I’m still making the same mistakes in all of them. Maybe the other worlds are just as flawed as my world, the real world. Maybe there is nowhere I can go where everything is pitch-perfect, where Stefan’s life doesn’t go into shambles and I do everything right. Maybe that’s okay. 

How people feel about this episode/film/event mainly depends on how they feel about the illusion of control. I hated Bandersnatch when I feared not having control. But maybe not having control doesn’t have to be scary (and maybe we don’t have to hate Bandersnatch for it). Bandersnatch may not have given me consolation, or relief, or retribution, or redemption, or absolution from all the things I regret, but it gave me liberation. It has given me the knowledge, and it has set me free. 

"Lady Bird Meets Elio" by Andrea Oregel

I recently did a Halloween shoot with my friends Delaiah and Davey. Basically we did a Lady Bird and Elio inspired crossover shoot. The outfits were inspired off the films Lady Bird and Call Me By Your Name.

follow Andrea on Instagram @andreaaoregel to see more of her work

"Sickly Sweet: A Call Me By Your Name Diary" (excerpt four) by Saffron Maeve

MARCH 25, 2018

The last time I watched it in a theatre. I have not seen it since and I’m not sure that I want to. This is undoubtedly one of my most treasured films and I want to leave it where I last felt safe with it— on the big screen.

Today was the last time I got to see Call Me By Your Name on screen. My friend and I went back for the third time to the TIFF Bell Lightbox to watch it. The first two times, we were situated in large auditoriums. This was certainly exciting and today, we assumed would be the same. However, we ended up in a very small theatre of about 20 people. Initially, I was not happy with this because it felt so claustrophobic and odd in comparison to our prior experiences. By the end, hearing people crying and taking deep breaths almost felt comforting— we were all collectively experiencing the magic of this one thing. It felt wholesome.

Now, I am notorious within my friend group for sobbing when watching Call Me By Your Name but this was the first showing that I did not cry at. It’s odd to think about because I walked into it feeling upset, knowing that this beautifully crafted beacon of love and summertime no longer had a place on the big screen for me. I felt distraught knowing that my most emotional, theatrical experiences with the film are over but, somehow, I was so happy. I smiled throughout scenes that used to make me cry, I shed a tear of joy during the "Visions of Gideon" scene (the one that tends to rip me apart the most), and I finally understood the joy of Stuhlbarg’s speech— it is no longer sad, it is a declaration of care and honesty. It was like, for the first time, I was experiencing the film from the point of view of love rather than loss. It is so easy to become engulfed in Elio’s sorrows that one forgets the beauty of their relationship. Every moment, while fleeting, was still filled with desire. Finally, Elio staring into the camera, a shy smile plastered on his face, as though reiterating the best parts of his and Oliver’s journey for the audience made me feel like I was a part of something intangible and eternal. I’m really sad that this era is over but, god, am I happy to have experienced it.

"Sickly Sweet: A Call Me By Your Name Diary" (excerpt three) by Saffron Maeve

JANUARY 30, 2018

This was the first time I watched it with my best friend. We set it up in her basement (the home of many of my most cherished memories) and I distinctly remember promising her that I wouldn’t cry as I had seen it so many times. I failed to keep this promise and sobbed uncontrollably again. We talked on her couch for hours, contemplating and theorizing every aspect of the film. She’s the most wonderful person I know.

Every time I watch CMBYN, I feel more and more engulfed in its beauty. This was my fifth time experiencing it and I still shake during Michael Stuhlbarg’s monologue and the last scene. I watched it with my best friend last night because she hadn’t seen it and we just cried in silence for a good portion of it and then we talked for hours afterwards. Here are some of the topics/motifs that we discussed.

• Time — Time was the ultimate antagonist of the film. The idea that six fleeting weeks are not enough, but also too much. Some people dislike Call Me By Your Name because of its pace; they think it’s too slow and, in turn, dull. It’s this tedium, this stasis, that makes everything so ultimately painful. When Oliver and Elio are finally together, everything speeds up. The sexuality of their relationship is heightened and their comfort in one another becomes sincere and no longer surface. We all hate the ending but we need it. Nobody can speak to what Oliver and Elio would be like, had they ended up together. It’s the idea that it was a temporary, fleeting infatuation that draws in our attention. The understanding that it is all coming to a close and, because of this, every moment needs to be sacred. Elio’s watch, specifically, was overwhelming. His obsession with checking the time the night that he’s meeting Oliver speaks volumes about his fragility and vulnerability. There is a beautiful shot where Mr. Perlman hands Elio the watch, as if supporting the relationship before we even know he does.

• The peach — Everyone mocks this aspect of the film or finds it hilarious, but I am convinced that this is the saddest scene. Elio has sex with a peach and afterwards, feels ashamed of what he did. I say “what he did” because of Oliver’s line “What did you do?”; already (potentially inadvertently) inserting guilt and suggesting that Elio had done something wrong. When taking into consideration what the peach symbolizes, the scene becomes pensive. Elio is ashamed of why he had sex with the peach more than the physical act. It is the idea of being gay that is worse to Elio than actually being gay. This is noticeable when Elio cries and kisses Oliver. This is Elio acting on his desires unabashedly while simultaneously crying over the nature of his desires.

• The Star of David— The Jewish undertone of the film is beautiful. From the beginning, when Elio says “We are Jews of discretion”, it becomes very apparent how much being openly Jewish is going to parallel being openly gay. Oliver wears the star of David around his neck, something that Elio marvels at. As Oliver and Elio’s relationship flourishes, Elio also starts to wear one. The idea that being Jewish is not something to hide, the same way that being gay is not something to hide. Religion makes its way into the film at pivotal moments and I hope to pick up on it even more when I watch it next.

• “Does Mom know?” — Michael Stuhlbarg’s entire monologue is disheartening and yet, upliftingly wise, but there are some parts that stick out more than others. Like when Mr. Perlman says “I envy you” and “I may have come close but something always held me back or stood in my way”. The phrasing is ambiguous. A theory that I like is that Mr. Perlman is not heterosexual and when Elio asks “Does Mom know?”, he is not speaking about himself, he is speaking about his father. It is clear that Elio’s mother knows about him and Oliver, so why ask? Food for thought, I suppose.

“In my place, most parents would hope the whole thing goes away, or pray that their sons land on their feet soon enough, but I am not such a parent. In your place, if there is pain, nurse it, and if there is a flame, don’t snuff it out, don’t be brutal with it. Withdrawal can be a terrible thing when it keeps us awake at night, and watching others forget us sooner than we’d want to be forgotten is no better. We rip out so much of ourselves to be cured of things faster than we should that we go bankrupt by the age of 30 and have less to offer each time we start with someone new. But to feel nothing so as not to feel anything—what a waste!”

"Sickly Sweet: A Call Me By Your Name Diary" (excerpt two) by Saffron Maeve

JANUARY 1, 2018

This was an emotional viewing. I only caught the last half and you’ll read why below. I can not think of a better way to have started a new year. I have not spoken to the person I went to this with in a long while, but I hope she still carries this memory with her as dearly as I do. 

I went to see 2001: A Space Odyssey tonight. I was so excited because it was at my favourite theatre and it was in 70mm, something I’ve never experienced. The music came on, the curtain rose, and the movie played. It did not click with me, even in the slightest. It started to get good around the intermission but by then I was already upset. I devoted my New Years to seeing this, certain that I would love it. I stepped out during the intermission and my friend and I bolted into the theatre across the hall. The theatre was playing Call Me By Your Name. This was my third time seeing the film. I only saw the second half, but it was one of the best experiences ever. My friend (the same one I was with tonight) and I had gone to see it together the week before and we laughed and cried and talked about it for hours on end. But tonight felt different; it was like watching a memory. A beautifully timed and calculated memory. The movie ran perfectly so that as soon as the clock hit 12 and it was a new year, the first few notes of “Visions of Gideon” started. The final scene. My first three minutes of 2018 was my friend and I holding hands and crying. I don’t believe in Gods or powers or any such thing, but I’ve always believed in fate. The universe coming together to make something amazing happen. This was my something amazing. Happy New Year everyone.

"Sickly Sweet: A Call Me By Your Name Diary" (excerpt one) by Saffron Maeve

I was nervous about publishing this in such a public manner; all of my emotions and vulnerability exposed for anyone to see. But then I had to ask myself: is it better to speak or die?

DECEMBER 23, 2017

My first viewing. I sobbed uncontrollably. I went to my favourite restaurant afterwards; its typically busy pace felt lackadaisical and lethargic. Everything did. The train ride home felt different – I wish I could articulate it but I can’t. The following passages are my attempts.

I'd like to preface this by saying how I came about watching the film. I had the opportunity to see it in September at TIFF, however, my plans fell through and it never happened. For the last three months, I have regretted that day and decision immensely. Looking back, I wholeheartedly think it was one of my best. Three months ago, Call Me By Your Name was just a movie. A beautiful love story with a lush, Italian backdrop. Now, it is so much more. The build up to see this film was almost painful. Its official release date in Canada was yesterday, over two months after most countries. Since September, I have been learning the technicalities of the film (and enhancing my knowledge of film as a whole) as well as crying daily to Sufjan's songs. I needed to see this film more than I thought I could ever desire to. And let me just say, it did not fall short of my soaring expectations.

I was lucky enough to see Call Me By Your Name at the TIFF Bell Lightbox in the heart of Toronto. This was a huge deal for me as I have never been there. It was beautiful - stores full of film paraphernalia and walls covered in classic posters. I felt like I was home. My friend and I got to the theatre about 45 minutes early and took our seats. Simply sitting there waiting felt amazing; 45 minutes felt like a dream after waiting months. When the lights dimmed and the opening credits came on, tears had already started to form in my eyes. Watching this film felt like coming home after a long trip; so familiar but entirely new at the same time.  It also felt like drowning. Like being submerged in everything and being too afraid to breathe out. The feeling of peaceful sinking.

I can not stress enough that Call Me By Your Name is a triumph. A sensual, captivating, sublime heaven. The cinematography was unbelievable - a lush countryside, stunning villa, and endless neoclassical buildings. Every second was mesmerizing. Atop of all of the pleasing visuals, the acting was beautiful. While I am obviously super biased in favour of Timothée Chalamet, I was still blown away. He was the perfect embodiment of Elio. I hope more than anything that he receives an Academy Award for this role. However, the performance that affected me physically the most was Michael Stuhlbarg's. I cried four times during the film: when the first few notes of “Visions of Gideon” began playing in Elio's bedroom, when Elio watches the train pull away from the station, when Elio cries in front of the fireplace, and finally, during Mr. Perlman's speech. That monologue made me shake with tears. A father validating his son's feelings, acknowledging a remarkable bond between two men, and reaffirming his unconditional affection. This performance, alone, deserves an Academy Award. Brilliant.

I have never been in love. I have never yearned for someone the way that Elio yearns for Oliver. However, I felt Elio's pain as though it was happening to me. When the train pulled out of the station and Elio calls his mother, I felt a lump in my throat. During the fireplace scene, I felt an ache in my chest and a throbbing migraine. This film made me experience the loss of someone I never knew. This, to me, is impeccable filmmaking. This also speaks to Timothée and Armie's chemistry. I was astounded by the sheer passion that the two shared. From their evocative looks and ardent kisses to Oliver holding Elio after the peach scene to, what I deem to be, the most intimate act - when Oliver tells Elio "Call me by your name and I'll call you by mine". A phrase more powerful than "I love you"; the idea that you belong to one another, that you are so close that you become the other person. A bond that transcends identity.

I have always loved Sufjan Stevens and this film just reaffirmed that. "Mystery of Love" and "Visions of Gideon" are absolute masterpieces and are no doubt my two favourite songs. Just hearing the opening notes brings tears to my eyes and a smile to my face. The sheer symbolism within the songs and their perfect fit into the film are noteworthy. The repetitive "Is it a video?" references Elio's memories of Oliver as he wonders what of his memories are real and what he may have manufactured. The idea of a fleeting memory, a summer (I remember everything). In “Mystery of Love,” Sufjan sings "The first time that you touched/kissed me" and in “Visions of Gideon,” he sings "I have touched/kissed you for the last time". Each song represents a different part of Oliver and Elio's relationship.

I apologize, I realize this review has been all over the place and I can't seem to keep any of my ideas together. The movie ended 6 hours ago and I still feel emotionally distraught. Perhaps this feeling is everlasting since I can't seem to shake it, and I don't really mind. I hope so badly that Call Me By Your Name earns awards this season, I truly believe it deserves them. Thank you so much to everyone affiliated with this project; it was immaculate.

 “If you remember everything and if you are really like me, then before you leave tomorrow, or when you’re just ready to shut the door of the taxi and have already said goodbye to everyone else and there’s not a thing left to say in this life, then, just this once, turn to me, even in jest, or as an afterthought, which would have meant everything to me when we were together, and as you did back then, look me in the face, hold my gaze, and call me by your name.”

"To be a Wallflower" by Saffron Maeve

To be a wallflower is to dance around the edges so as to not disrupt the pulsating center. To yearn for a moment engrossed in the magic middle; where you are loved and the world makes sure of it. But, to ultimately find comfort back in those edges of the party— to breathe steadily in one’s solitude. A wallflower will keep your secrets, listen to your stories, and find themselves in your center, not along your edges. These are the people with the most stories to tell; not the ones drunk on a Saturday night in a stranger’s basement, but those who watched it all happen. Sometimes, they do it to feel whole, to fill themselves up with others’ lives and experiences because their own were scarce or unbearable. Other times, they just like being full of information that is meaningless to them, but is life-altering to others. There is a strange power to being a wallflower and there is a stranger power to being Charlie.

The Perks of Being a Wallflower is one of the most intelligent and articulate novels and films ever created. Both mediums center around Charlie, a high school freshman struggling with the typical clashes of adolescence as well as emotional trauma. Charlie’s emotional trauma is derived from being sexually abused by his aunt, whom he believes died because of him, as well as the deliberate death of his best friend. Subjects this heavy are often too difficult to depict, especially in the short span of 105 minutes, but Chbosky handles it brilliantly. We delve into Charlie’s life so as to understand him and we always know just enough to analyze him, but never enough to actually grasp him. It is like this with every character; we encounter them like we would encounter people in real life. We are the wallflowers of this narrative.

From Rocky Horror and secret Santa to typewriters, tunnels, and the infinite nature of friendships, there are so many special moments within the film that I carry with me. I always say that I’ll write a thorough review of every detail, no matter how seemingly minute. Every glance, nuance, and quote together explained eloquently and neatly. After years of this empty promise to myself, I have given up. There are not enough words to stretch the breadth of this story, nor would I have the capacity to write them. Some things are better left unsaid.

"The Inherent Magnetism of The Grand Budapest" by Saffron Maeve

Wes Anderson’s critically acclaimed The Grand Budapest Hotel is a tour de force. With 218 nominations, nine of which being Academy Award noms, this film is hands down a must see. Few directors have the power and ability to portray a film of this nature with minimal faults. Anderson created, what I deem to be, a perfect film, in which every detail is immaculate and the storyline is inviting.

The physical design of the set was fascinating. First, Anderson researched countless hotels in hopes of finding an unused one to build his set around. However, this task was proven very difficult, as there were not many abandoned hotels, and those that he found did not fit his vision of the set. Eventually, he found an abandoned department store that was so large, that it was a perfect match. After painting, furnishing, and decorating the set to match the 1960s version of the hotel, the filming began. The crew chose to film the post-war, dreary version of the hotel first, so as to be able to strip it back easily and begin composing the hotel’s lavish, lively era. The hotel’s aristocratic nature made it iconic. One can choose to walk away from this film feeling unsatisfied, however, the hotel itself is definitively unforgettable.

Anderson uses different aspect ratios in order to establish the occurring time period. In the opening scene, Anderson uses 16:9 frame to demonstrate that is it modern day, 1985. While showing the hotel in 1968, Anderson uses the anamorphic format (2:39:1) to establish a wide-screen, run-of- the-mill look that thus emphasizes the gloominess of the setting. Most of the film, however, is set in the 4:3 aspect ratio. This creates a square-like frame, like those of the 1930s. This nostalgic imagery sends the viewers right back to the time period that they are watching. Very few films switch frame sizes like this, again making The Grand Budapest Hotel unique and memorable.

The use of colour played a massive role in creating the surreal and idealistic world of Zubrowka. With a pastel pink backdrop, the purple staff uniforms and the red carpets, the hotel came to life. The use of the colour pink, most often associated with fragility and love, was a wonderful and ironic parallel to the violence that ensued during the plot. The film tackles dark and heavy themes like the holocaust, murder, and Zero’s tragic past all while under the guise of a soft pink comedy. It is this level of dramatic irony that distinguishes Anderson from other 21st century directors and artists. However, it was not exclusively colour that showcased this irony, both Mendl’s and Agatha fit the category of externally appearing delicate and sweet but having abilities that deviate from this narrative. For example, Agatha uses Mendl’s pastries to sneak tools into the prison for Gustave to plot his escape, conceals the stolen painting, and hides codes.

Anderson’s use of one point perspectives mirrors those of Stanley Kubrick. It is evident that their styles deviate from one another, however, their use of symmetrical composition serves a similar purpose. Kubrick and Anderson both insert these shots between scenes of panic, to instill restlessness and agitation within the audience. Both directors make the audience inadvertently yearn for more action. While it is arguable that Anderson’s symmetry serves the surface purpose of maintaining his aesthetic, it is undeniable that these shots keep the audience on their toes. The main difference between the two directors’ use of one point perspective is that Kubrick tends to create an atmosphere of horror using long, geometrically mesmerizing shots, whereas Anderson uses wide shots to depict a comedic and simultaneously plush environment.

The thing about The Grand Budapest Hotel that makes it so magnetic is the many story lines that occur all at once. The film starts with an author encountering M. Mustafa, who retells his stories of M. Gustave and his hotel. This quickly accelerates to the mystery of Mme. D’s murder, the acquisition of the iconic painting Boy with Apple, Gustave’s imprisonment, the overthrowing by the ZZ, a romance between Zero and Agatha, and the ultimate demise of Gustave. While immensely tragic, Gustave’s death paints a picture for the audience that is clearer and more detailed than Boy with Apple. Gustave H. was so magnetic and vivid to the audience that he lingered even after his death. Gustave was the embodiment of the Grand Budapest Hotel and thus, the hotel represents him. Once vibrant and desired, but dreary and disregarded, the hotel could never be the same without Gustave’s presence.

Milena Canonero won an Academy Award for her costume design for the film. Each character is distinct from one another, their costumes/appearance greatly playing into this. For example, Madame D’s fashion sense is a mix of eras. She has items (such as her hat and velvet coat) from the “Roaring Twenties” but also wears a dress from the thirties. I believe that this is to show viewers her strong connections to the past or even her inability to let go of it. Perhaps this is why she takes M. Gustave as her lover, being that he is significantly younger than her. When Gustave was in prison, he wore a grey and white striped uniform. People tend to associate this look with jail and prison (pre-orange- jumpsuit-era, of course), however, this style of uniform was never truly adopted in Europe; it was moreso an Americanized entity. So why did Wes Anderson and Milena Canonero choose to include it? Well, being that there is a heavy undertone of Nazism and the Holocaust, the prison uniform was made to look like those that were worn in concentration camps. Yet another tragic detail hidden in the deception of a pastel dream.