He’s the solicitor whose will-reading runs afoul of nefariously-inclined heirs in “The Grand Budapest Hotel,” Wes Anderson’s latest. And he’s the published author and former college classmate of Jim Broadbent in the corrosive marriage-going-wrong-in-Paris drama “Le Week-End,” a burst of bubbly, Goldblummy fresh air in the film’s third act.
And then there’s the TV. Oh yes, the TV. Sorry, you write about Goldblum you start imitating his cadences, the distinctive rhythms of his speech. He’s the bespectacled, whimsical counterpart of Christopher Walken. Impressionists love him.
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