The Palace

If 20 years ago (before I was alive), you told me that Polanski directed this film, I would laugh in your face. Perhaps his least stylistically recognizable movie ever, the work lends itself to an eerie sense of detachment. The aesthetic of the film is plastered by the faux-realism common in throwaway holiday films (even the hotel is CGI). Unlike Wes Anderson, the plastering of this film lacks coherency (granted Wes Anderson's films are perhaps overly coherent, but that is a discussion for a different day). The uncanny nature of the film proves the characters ethereal and ultimately not as comical as intended by Polanski. There's no good way to end this review but to say that it is unbelievably that we exist in a World where the Pianist and the Palace were directed by the same man.