One of the more unexpectedly compelling aspects of travelling is the chance to encounter people from all walks of life, and even without interacting with them directly, we are able to observe a brief moment in their lives. The experience of sitting in a hotel lobby and quietly watching the people passing by, taking note of the unique stories that emerge through the hustle and bustle, is an excellent opportunity to gain valuable insights into the human condition. This is the foundation of Grand Hotel, a film directed by Edmund Goulding and written by William A. Drake, who adapts the novel Menschen im Hotel by Vicki Baum, which is set in a large hotel in pre-war Berlin, and follows roughly half a dozen characters over about a day, following their various interactions along with exploring their individual reasons for visiting the hotel. Amongst them is a former member of the nobility who has resorted to petty theft. This fading ballerina is tormented by a past she can never relive, a former bureaucrat who is terminally ill and chooses to make the most of what remains of his life before its too late, and a young stenographer trying to make a living, but who has her sights set on Hollywood, where her heart truly lies. These interactions are all observed quietly by both an elderly doctor disfigured in the First World War, and a happy-go-lucky porter who is at the beck and call of all visitors. A very simple, well-constructed film that has a unique narrative structure and a lot of intriguing ideas, Grand Hotel occupies a firm place in film history, not only in terms of the story it tells, but also how it explores these ideas, being a remnant of a very particular moment in the industry’s growth, and representing some of its most fascinating and compelling changes in terms of both its content and style.

Grand Hotel was made during the ambiguous period known as the Pre-Code era, where Hollywood was caught in between the tail-end of the silent era and the implementation of the Hays Code, which was known for its stringent censorship in line with the most draconian conservative values. Many filmmakers took advantage of this vague space before these rules came into effect to make films that provoked and challenged the status quo in creative and daring ways. While it may not be particularly scandalous in the traditional sense (insofar as it doesn’t deal too heavily with themes such as marital strife, drug use or other socio-cultural issues), it is very much built on a more subversive approach to material that would be subjected to far more scrutiny in only a matter of years. The themes at the heart of Grand Hotel are outlined from the start – this is a film about the class system, and the clash between those who occupy separate rungs on the social and economic ladder. Usually, film tends to gravitate towards focusing on one particular class at the time, and when they are present at the same time, its more in the sense of juxtaposing them with one another (as we see in films like My Man Godfrey, in which the class difference is used as fodder for outrageous comedy), rather than exploring the effects of the intermingling of different groups of people. The film focuses on six primary characters, each one from a different section of the class system, as some are members of the working class, simply trying to survive, others are part of the aristocracy or high-ranking members of the public – but yet, the true brilliance is in how the film subverts their roles and shows that appearance does not always match reality. The wealthy baron is penniless and borders on destitute, whereas the man who has spent his life as a secure member of the middle class is the one who is living in luxury, realising that experiences are more important than a large balance in the bank. The film carefully assesses these characters and their positions within society, and uses this to build quite a compelling socio-cultural study.

Considering the extent to which it can be considered primarily a character-based film, its not surprising that Grand Hotel contains some tremendous performances from its cast, which is filled to the brim with memorable actors The ensemble of this film is so notable, it resulted in decades of comparison, where other star-studded groupings of actors were ultimately associated with this approach to filling a film with a cast with some of the most acclaimed and distinguished actors working in the industry at any given time. One of the many terrific qualities of this film is how it is a true communal effort, right down to the smallest detail. There are seven key characters, and over two dozen supporting players – and while those who occupy the latter category do not do much to draw our attention (despite being very good in their limited time), the core grouping of main actors is distinctly compelling because no one has a bigger role than anyone else, despite the cast consisting of both seasoned veterans and rambunctious young upstarts. As a result, no one can be considered the de facto lead, with the focus being instead on defining each of these characters in detail, and creating pairings throughout the film that give some of the greatest actors of the Golden Age of Hollywood the chance to work alongside one another. Greta Garbo was already something of an established star as a result of her silent era work, but this was the performance where she truly developed her persona of the aloof woman constantly in a state of existential anguish. Joan Crawford is a bundle of energy as the lovely young stenographer whose ambitions are what keep her motivated to find a better life for herself. John Barrymore and Lionel Barrymore, both members of one of acting’s greatest dynasties, have their first proper on-screen collaboration (they were part of the ensemble of Ben-Hur about a decade before, but did not share any scenes, and were in quite small roles), and while they are playing extremely different characters, their talents are extremely clear, and they match each other beat-for-beat, proving why they are some of the greatest actors to ever work in the medium. This isn’t even touching on the great work done by Wallace Beery, Jean Hersholt and Lewis Stone, who all bring their unique gifts to the film, adding layers to an already complex and compelling film.

A film like Grand Hotel can go in any direction in terms of its tone, so it’s not at all surprising that the material on which it is based has been adapted into many different styles, ranging from intensely emotional melodrama to ribald, off-the-wall musical comedy. This adaptation is often considered the definitive version not solely because it adheres quite closely to the material (retaining character names and following the same general structure), but also in how it captures the spirit of the material – some portions play out more comedically, particularly all the parts that relate to the daily running of this hotel, which are sparse but welcome reprieves from the more intense, melodramatic sequences set within these palatial penthouses and drawing rooms, which is where the majority of the action takes place. Those quieter moments could have easily been overwrought, intensely emotional scenes where the actors are playing to the rafters – but the writing is far too strong to amount to such predictable developments. It’s not nearly as operatic and poignant as it may think itself to be, but the film is nonetheless an exceptionally well-crafted piece of filmmaking that understands its audience and ensures that everything that it conveys is meaningful and ultimately well-defined, far more than we would initially expect based on a cursory glance. It’s themes are firm, and it never deviates beyond its core premise, despite the many opportunities for it to become unwieldy or unnecessarily dependent on the sprawling nature of the material, which does lend itself to excess on more than one occasion, the avoidance of which is actively compelling and adds a lot of nuance to an otherwise very simple, straightforward narrative that benefits from its more pedestrian approach, rather than being restricted.

Once we step foot inside the halls of the titular establishment, we are immediately struck by the sheer beauty of Grand Hotel – and while we can wax poetic on the innovative approach to the technical aspects of the filmmaking, including the stunning art deco production design and dynamic, fluid camera work that oscillates between capturing the frenzy of the lobby and the more quiet, subdued activities taking place in the myriad of rooms that spiral above, the true impact of this film is seeing how all the pieces fit together. It’s a very simple film with ideas that stretch far beyond the confines of what we are used to seeing at this point, with the earnest, straightforward plot combining with genuine emotions, delivered by extraordinary actors operating at their absolute peak, and offering something so much more engaging and detailed than we would expect from the material. It’s heartbreaking in some parts, outrageously funny in either – and in both instances, there’s a lot of value to be found throughout the film, which is a far more engaging affair than we would anticipate, and which offers us something unique, particularly when it comes to unpacking many of its key ideas. Whether we are attracted to the promise of seeing some exceptional actors doing some of their best work, experiencing some sharp, witty writing that encompasses the entirety of the human condition, or simply taking in the splendour of a bygone era, Grand Hotel is a terrific film, and one that has more than earned its place in the canon of astonishing works from the Hollywood’s Golden Age, a period unlike any other.