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“If we fuck, I’m gonna feel like shit tomorrow” utters Natalie Portman, as she lies on the hotel bed, locked in an embrace with Jason Schwartzman. Terrible I know, but it’s taken me nearly five years to watch Hotel Chevalier by Wes Anderson, his simple 13 minute prelude to The Darjeeling Limited (2007) but although annoying it’s taken me so long, I feel watching this heart breaking little film at the age I am now, and having gone through the romantic ups and downs I have done, I’m able to understand it far better.
Like all of Anderson’s films, Hotel Chevalier is rich in metaphor, love is the dominant theme, and there’s nods to the artistic exlporation of love and romance littered around this very plush hotel room, such as a print of Thomas Gainsborough’s Mr and Mrs Andrews and Peter Sarstedt’s 1969 ditty Where Do You Go To (My Lovely)? playing in the background. The song, about this glamorous woman from humble beginnings named Marie-Claire, whose jet-set lifestyle has left her feeling empty, feels like it could be describing Portman’s character.
As she enters the scene, Portman strikes a glamorous figure, decked in designer clothes and playing coquettishly with a cocktail stick. She seems aloof, and it’s obvious this aloofness is hiding a deep fragility. Schwartzman is too slightly aloof, but his emotions are, from the outset, far more visible. It’s clear he wants to rekindle this love affair, an affair which almost disintegrated.
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It doesn’t take long for the couples’ passions to resurface, but you’re left feeling melancholic, as you know, as well as they do that this is just not meant to be. It’s a love that should be left in the past, as a rose tinted memory. Which goes back to Portman’s statement as they lay together on the bed, it’s just going to be a fleeting night of passion, followed by a morning filled with remorse.
As the short film draws to an end, the couple stand on the balcony of the Hotel Chevalier, and gaze across the panoramic scene of Paris’ early-20th century architecture. In all Hotel Chevalier is the perfect microcosm of Anderson’s brilliance as a filmmaker, you could say it’s the perfect introduction for anyone wanting to understand the mind of Anderson.
Like all of his films, colour and aesthetics play a big role, yet never negate or cloud the narrative. Yellow was the principle colour this time around, a bit of sunshine to frame this emotional tale of lost love. It’s a quality slice of cinema, and amazing to think that such emotional variety can be played out in just 13 minutes.
Anderson is the king of screwball comedy yes, but he can do emotion like a pro.
