Wes Anderson’s movies consistently hit the spot for me – the extraordinary (and somehow believable) characters, the silly seriousness, the perfectly organized “thing shots,” the stories within stories within stories. From the excessively formal Gustave (who invents and performs convoluted poetry on the spot), to the funicular railway trolley, to the 3 second George Clooney… Read More The Grand Budapest Hotel: dark sincerity, dead cats, and beautiful symmetry