If the success of films such as The Best Exotic Marigold, Hotel, Quartet, and Philomena have proven anything, it’s that there is certainly an audience for films with older ensembles. One that perhaps isn’t being fully served. Romance and excitement aren’t just for teenagers and 20-somethings, and even though Hollywood may be a young person’s game, there’s clearly a desire for movies with elderly protagonists, too.

Thus, we have Le Week-End, a charming and comedic drama about an older couple, Nick (Jim Broadbent) and Meg (Lindsay Duncan), who travel to Paris for the first time since their honeymoon. Managing to pack in what feels like a month’s worth of mishaps into the span of one weekend, they struggle to relate to the locals, an old friend they run into (played by Jeff Goldblum), and each other.

However, Le Week-End wisely avoids relying on the tired “aren’t-old-people-kooky?” tropes that some films of this type resort to. Nick and Meg aren’t presented as figures to laugh at, and even though they aren’t always likeable characters, their struggles and frustrations feel earned. Director Roger Michell seems more interested in exploring the intricacies of how people relate to each other rather than aiming for more standard cinematic moments of revelation.

Along those lines, I appreciated how unflinchingly the conflicts in Nick and Meg’s relationship are presented; their conversations frequently turn from charming banter to petty bickering with no apparent explanation, yet it feels natural. Nick and Meg say some truly horrible things to each other at times, but it’s understood that this is simply how the couple operate and that they can easily bounce back.

Much of this understanding is thanks to the nuanced performances from both Broadbent and Duncan. Broadbent has long been a beloved stalwart of British cinema, and his performance in Le Week-End is every bit as charming and befuddled as you’d expect. However, it’s Duncan who truly steals the movie. She’s an actress who has appeared in many films and television shows, but often in supporting roles (see: About Time, Alice in Wonderland, etc.), so it’s a treat to see her get a character she can really sink her teeth into. Meg is a fascinating and complex woman, and Duncan effortlessly portrays a woman who Nick is both endlessly exasperated by and hopelessly in love with.

All of this said, Le Week-End does suffer a bit due to its light tone. There is a weight to the central relationship, and the movie does wade into some surprisingly complicated emotional territory, but it still always seems like the movie is hedging its bets a touch; even at Nick and Meg’s most dire moments of conflict, it feels as though their reconciliation is inevitable. Early on, it’s established that these people need each other and are willing to overlook a lot in one another, so the moments of tension or temptation that come later seem more like temporary bumps in their relationship rather than foundation-shaking reverberations.

Luckily, though, the performances are good enough and there’s just enough honesty in the screenplay to make Le Week-End an overall success. The film’s portrayal of everyday conversations and emphasis on travel call to mind the Before series, and it wouldn’t be a stretch to imagine Nick and Meg as Jesse and Celine a couple of franchise installments down the line. And, as is the case with Linklater’s films, the viewer’s enjoyment doesn’t come from following the simplistic plot, but rather from watching a small slice of life play out. There are a couple of standout scenes – in particular, a dinner table monologue from Broadbent later on – that cut surprisingly deep with stark honesty.

This is a movie that wins by letting its characters be complicated and messy. It’s occasionally a touch too twee for its own good, but as the credits began to roll, I found myself surprised by how much of the film had left a quiet impact on me.

Partway through The Grand Budapest Hotel, there’s an argument between Dmitri (Adrien Brody, looking brilliantly evil) and his deceased mother’s lawyer (Jeff Goldblum). The lawyer refuses to hand the dead woman’s fortune over to her son as the details of her murder haven’t been cleared up. Dmitri angrily leaves, and his henchman (Willem Dafoe) casually tosses the lawyer’s cat out of a window on his way out. It’s a cruel act, and a funny visual gag, until the lawyer peers out his window and the camera cuts to his cat’s splattered body below.

Writer/director Wes Anderson uses these shock moments of sudden violence more than once throughout the film. The dead woman (Tilda Swinton, unrecognizable with pounds of old age makeup) is Madame D., an old rich countess who frequented the titular hotel. Located in the mountains of the Republic of Zubrowka, a made up European nation, the hotel is a gorgeous and highly popular establishment. Gustave H. (Ralph Fiennes) is the hotel’s concierge, a charming man who was also taking Madame D. to bed during her visits (one of Gustave’s many duties as concierge included sexually satisfying the rich old ladies who visited). When it’s revealed that she put Gustave in her will as the recipient of a priceless painting, Madame D.’s family frames him for her murder.

Gustave receives help from Zero Moustafa (Tony Revolori), a young lobby boy that Gustave has taken a shine to. The story, taking place in 1932 during some unnamed war ravaging the country, is narrated to us by an older Moustafa (F. Murray Abraham) in the 1960s. He’s telling his tale to a young author (Jude Law) over dinner at the hotel, now well past its glory days. Law narrates the 1960s segments, which are actually from a novel being read to viewers in the 1980s by (presumably) a now much-older author (Tom Wilkinson). The nesting-doll structure may seem frivolous, but Wes Anderson’s films thrive on frivolity.

The multi-layered narrative also establishes Anderson’s attempts to comment on memory and nostalgia. Moustafa’s story in the 1930s, shot gorgeously in 1.33:1, is stylistically Anderson’s best work to date. The set design, meticulous framing, whip pans, quick zooms, and use of animation and miniatures, among Anderson’s other visual trademarks, operate at a level that more than matches his story’s large scale. Anderson and cinematographer Robert D. Yeoman are clearly having a field day, and it shows. The charming style also shows Moustafa’s nostalgia for this period of his life, as if these “good ol’ days” represent something that’s never to return.

Anderson is aware of how dangerous this way of looking at the past with rose-coloured glasses is, which is why he throws in scenes like the one with Goldblum’s cat. He is purposely breaking the spell his film casts, reminding viewers that the time period was still a tumultuous one. The hotel is not so much a shining example of long-lost civility and politeness as it is an escape from the harsh realities of wartime and poverty. These two worlds of fantasy and reality eventually come together, but through Anderson’s lens the stylistic flourishes still remain. The final scene of the ‘30s timeline, also the bleakest part of Moustafa’s story, switches to black and white, showing how Anderson still finds a way to fill his heavier moments with aesthetic quirks.

While Anderson’s toying with memory and nostalgia is interesting, it fails to make any impact to the film overall. The handling of violence makes for an awkward juxtaposition, one that’s more admirable in its intent than execution (I never thought I’d say this, but Anderson should take some tips from Quentin Tarantino in this area). The war going on in the film’s background is wiped of any details, save for some vague allusions to the SS. The obscuring of these elements only muddy the water, and the dense plotting of Anderson’s screenplay make his thematic points get swallowed up by the film’s aesthetics.

Not that the aesthetics are a bad thing; The Grand Budapest Hotel is still a treat to watch. Fiennes is perfect as Gustave, and Anderson’s script is filled with plenty of hilarious moments. The massive ensemble, where seemingly every role is filled with a well-known actor (supporting cast includes Edward Norton, Harvey Keitel, Saorise Ronan, Jason Schwartzman and Owen Wilson just to name a few), work together perfectly. While The Grand Budapest Hotel works well, it only does up to a certain point. What the film amounts to is nothing more than a well-done and admirable piece of fluff.

The Grand Budapest Hotel trailer