If there's one director working today who completely understands the importance of visuals as an aspect of cinema it's indie extraordinaire, Wes Anderson. Although it pains me to type, Anderson's visual style is best described as "quirky", with comments on his aesthetic signature usually laced with grand hyperbole and excessive superlatives - but all for good reason. Anderson's current film, The Grand Budapest Hotel , seems to be the movie that just refuses to leave the cinema.

Approaching just over 12 weeks of sitting in auditoriums, if you haven't yet seen Wes Anderson's opus by now you have no excuse, and if this article achieves anything, it will be convincing you few naysayers to go and see it before you miss the opportunity. If I'm really lucky I'll be able to convince the rest of you to go out and see it again to appreciate one thing: just how damn good it looks.

Anyone who has seen the trailer, even screenshots of The Grand Budapest Hotel understands how gorgeous the film is; everything in the frame oozes style and sophistication, and it's so inherent to the film's DNA that it becomes its own constant, ethereal presence. What you might have missed however are the small details, classic for Wes Anderson films, and a signature auteur mark that makes Budapest arguably a better collection of photographs than a film.

It's obvious Anderson is extremely passionate about how his films look, anyone with a passing knowledge of the director understands his keen eye for detail and obsessive preoccupation with symmetrical framing. His intensive relationship with the visual language of his films is so well known that you've probably seen parodies of his style somewhere on the internet. However this isn't a bad thing, Anderson's borderline obsession only serves to parallel his passion, and oh my does this resonate on the screen during The Grand Budapest's runtime.

Dripping in fantastic pastel colours, Budapest looks like a vintage, almost childlike, work of art. Pink, yellows, blues and reds accentuate our protagonists and the titular hotel, all the while being contrasted with the shrouded deep-black menace of the antagonists. The colour choice is very Film Aesthetics 101 but that's the point; the innocent naivete of the film makes it a joke that the baddies are dressed in all black and the goodies are all in blue - it's borderline cartoonish. The costumes and sets are the next thing you'll notice: the striking hotel itself is awe-inspiring. While The Hobbit might have massive vistas and Avatar might have the CGI spectacle totally nailed, nothing comes close to the effortlessly authentic Grand Budapest Hotel. It's a setting that feels lived in, that has a history, and that - most importantly - has loads and loads of character.

Though as grandiose as Budapest Hotel is, it's the little details you'll appreciate the most: a pencilled-on moustache here, a titled fez there, little touches like this add a whole other layer of visual humour and depth to the already funny film. These affectations, often placed in the background of scenes, make it essential that The Grand Budapest Hotel is viewed at least twice.

However the visual accomplishment of Budapest Hotel runs deeper than just colours and costumes; the aesthetic style invades and overpowers every conceivable part of the picture, covering everything from special effects to even aspect ratio. The projection and aspect ratio is so important to the film in fact that Anderson delivered the film with a letter instructing projectionists to change their set-up for brightness, audio, framing, and fader settings before the film could even be shown. The importance and complication of this projection is so obviously indicative of the meticulous nature and absolute importance of the aesthetics in this film. Fortunately, this extensive projection set-up doesn't go unnoticed. The aspect ratio of each story adds to the authenticity of the era it's representing on-screen and the film itself is projected at a slight angle, almost looking as if it's being projected off an old-timey over-head projector (if you are lucky enough to remember those). These cosmetic changes and pretences, while ultimately succeeding in adding nothing at all to the characters or narrative, are so essential for engrossing the audience into the abstract surrealist artwork of The Grand Budapest Hotel.

If you haven't seen The Grand Budapest Hotel yet, I implore you to go out immediately before you miss it. If you're a fan of films, or just an appreciator of art in general, then viewing the picture in anything other in its intended format on the big-screen is close to sacrilege. The film is so arrogantly assure of how well it moves and feels and looks that you can't help but be enthralled as this cinematic pastel painting washes over you. The way Anderson freely creates a unique and engaging art-cinema atmosphere is undeniably impressive, and this mood morphs into its own entity and is arguably the main reason the film has become so popular in the mainstream.

For better or worse, Anderson and his director of photography Robert Yeoman have created not only their most exotic and visually important film, but one of the most visually important films in recent memory. No recent releases have come close to hitting this level of striking detail and innovative, unrestricted cinematography and art design that synthesises both narrative and aesthetics as perfectly as The Grand Budapest Hotel. The picture is a perfect example of the symbiosis between visual embellishment and narrative sensationalism.