Thor: The Dark World (2013): 5/10
Like all of the Avengers films, the characters here are a lot more fun than the plot. Some of the Avengers films (Iron Man, The Avengers) do a better job at striking exactly the balance these films need in order to remain entertaining; others do not. This one does not. As was the case with the first Thor film, the characters here are a lot of fun--even the ones that weren't great the first time around (Loki) have had a lot of time to grow into their roles, and they're genuinely great here. (Though Natalie Portman is still sadly out of place, and Loki's involvement in the plot mostly serves to introduce twists.) On the surface this film seems to have a better dramatic arc than the first film, but its execution is worse, and considerably draggier/noisier. How much better this film would have been if it had spent more time on the small moments that make the Avengers films so much fun: like the subway scene here, and less time on, well, everything else.
Captain America: The First Avenger (2011): 7/10
Eleven-years old me would have loved this--as I currently am, I still sort of like it. Nazi villains (led by Hugo Weaving, who never fails to make a good villain), good (well, bad, but you know what I mean) one-liners, neat set-design, and of course, lots of slow-motion escapes from explosions. It's dopey, big-hearted action, and is so gloriously goofy that it's hard not to love. I've never been a Captain America fan, but this film does the character's heritage justice, while updating it for modern audiences.
The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014): 9/10
It's no less decorated, fussy, and curiously chaotic in that remarkably controlled way than Wes Anderson's films always are--if you hate his films for their constricting style, than this won't make you a believer. If anything, this might be the most Anderson movie yet, taking as it does his general approach to live-action filming but also incorporating some storybook-esque miniature filming and even a smidgeon of stop-motion. (Perhaps the one scene that might surprise is a downhill skiing chase scene, which makes liberal use of CGI.) But in other ways, Anderson beefs up his dramatic storytelling abilities with moments of genuinely disturbing power. Sudden explosions of violence aren't altogether uncommon in Anderson's pictures, but they've never been as gristly as they are here. (In other words, if the dead dog in Moonrise Kingdom was too much for you, you might have some issues with a few scenes here.) Yes, these violent outbursts are darkly funny, as always, but they're also horrifying and a tad bit gory, and Anderson proves himself to be surprisingly good at generating tension in the scenes leading up to these outbursts. One suspects that he might actually be capable of filming a good, if decidedly oddball, thriller, if he ever put his mind to it.
But that's not all there is to Grand Budapest. Anderson's films have generally always been obsessed with loss or absence, and his characters must work together (they often fail when they try individually) to overcome whatever absences haunt them. For all the sorrow in his films (caused by death of family or friends, destruction of home, lost chances, or even by simple ennui), things tend to work out positively for most of the principal characters involved. Wes's characters are frequently accused of being more akin to clockwork automatons than to actual people--I think that this is a strength of his work, rather than a flaw, as it illustrates (no matter how fantastically) perfectly well the armor that we equip ourselves with when we are faced with a world that we are too weak to tolerate. His characters are rarely strong--they're victims who play the role of victim-hood exceedingly well (even when appearing to take matters into their own hands), but they're always allowed to grow, and reach new emotional heights by the film's end. In Grand Budapest, things aren't so easy--in many ways, it's his most serious film, even if it is perhaps also his funniest (thanks in no small part to a fantastically controlled Ralph Fiennes). Set in and around an idyllic Eastern European hotel on the eve of war, the absences its characters ultimately suffer may never be recovered from, and the blackly comic violence I mentioned above is but a pale shadow compared to the horrors that we don't see plainly, but do plainly feel the after-effects of as the plot switches from past to 'present' and back again.
In no small fashion did this film remind me of Alan Moore's Lost Girls. No, The Grand Budapest Hotel is not an epic pornography about sexual awakening and experimentation, but the two works are otherwise extremely similar in tone, setting, and message. The final pages of Lost Girls constitute perhaps the most haunting and 'cinematic' moment in Moore's entire oeuvre, and the feeling that is expresses (this is the beauty and vitality that war takes from us, never to give it back) is effortlessly matched by Anderson here. If you're sympathetic to Wes's modus operandi this film will leave you aching, and not just with laughter. It might just be the purest expression of Anderson's craft that he's yet presented to us.