The Grand Budapest Hotel (5 page)
Read The Grand Budapest Hotel Online
Authors: Wes Anderson
M. GUSTAVE
I blame myself.
M. Gustave checks the color of the wine in the light. It is excellent.
M. GUSTAVE
She tried to tell me she had a premonition. I didn’t listen. (
Imagining the scene
.) All of Lutz will be dressed in black – except her own ghastly, deceitful children whom she loathed and couldn’t bear to kiss hello. They’ll be dancing like gypsies.
Zero nods soberly. M. Gustave becomes philosophical/nihilistic:
There’s really no point in doing anything in life, because it’s all over in the blink of an eye – and, the next thing you know,
rigor mortis
sets in. Oh, how the good die young! With any luck, she’s left a few Klubecks for
your
old friend – (
motioning to himself
) but one never knows until the ink is dry on the death certificate. She was dynamite in the sack, by the way.
ZERO
(
scandalized in spite of himself
)
She was
eighty-four
, M. Gustave!
M. GUSTAVE
(
pause
)
I’ve had older.
M. Gustave throws back the rest of his glass and refills it as he expands on the point:
M. GUSTAVE
When you’re young, it’s all filet steak, but as the years go by, you have to move onto the cheaper cuts – which is fine with me, because I
like
those. More flavorful, or so they say. (
Shrugs
.) Why are we stopping at a barley field?
The train has, in fact, come to a halt in the middle of nowhere. Noises echo from the other end of the coach: a door slams open; loud voices argue; heavy footsteps approach.
Three soldiers appear in the compartment doorway. They are stocky, thick-necked, and armed with carbine rifles. They wear grey uniforms and long coats. M. Gustave says with an air of ‘fancy-meeting-you-here’:
M. GUSTAVE
Well, hello there, chaps.
SOLDIER 1
(
blankly
)
Documents, please.
M. GUSTAVE
With pleasure.
M. Gustave withdraws his passport from his coat pocket and presents it to the soldier. The soldier begins to flip through it. M. Gustave gestures toward the photograph of himself:
M. GUSTAVE
It’s not a very flattering portrait, I’m afraid. I was once considered a great beauty.
The soldier ignores this comment. M. Gustave peers at the breast pocket of his uniform.
Insert:
A name tag pinned below a military badge. It reads: ‘Cpl. F. Miller’.
M. Gustave raises an eyebrow and asks pointedly:
M. GUSTAVE
What’s the ‘F’ stand for? Fritz? Franz?
SOLDIER 1
(
hesitates
)
Franz.
M. GUSTAVE
(
exceedingly pleased
)
I knew it!
The soldier returns the passport to M. Gustave and looks to Zero. Zero nervously hands him a creased and tattered little scrap of paper covered with stamps and seals. The soldier frowns and studies it. M. Gustave smiles, uneasy, and says lightly:
M. GUSTAVE
He’s making a funny face. (
To the soldier.
) That’s a Migratory Visa with Stage Three Worker Status, Franz, darling. He’s with me.
The soldier shows the scrap of paper to his associates. They confer rapidly at a whisper. There is some debate. Finally, the soldier waves for Zero to follow him:
FIRST SOLDIER
Come outside, please.
Zero swallows hard and begins to rise – but M. Gustave motions sharply for him to stop. He says, a bit stern:
M. GUSTAVE
Now wait a minute. (
To Zero.
) Sit down, Zero. (
To the soldiers
.) His papers are in order. I cross-referenced them myself with the Bureau of Labor and Servitude. You can’t arrest him simply because he’s a bloody immigrant. He hasn’t done anything wrong.
The soldier hesitates. He turns to his associates again. They look back at him, expressionless. The soldier grabs Zero by the arm and jerks him out of his seat. M. Gustave is instantly on his feet, tussling.
M. GUSTAVE
Stop it! Stop, damn you!
ZERO
(
in disbelief
)
Never mind, M. Gustave! Let them proceed!
M. Gustave is slammed and held against one wall while Zero is pounded into another. M. Gustave shouts and struggles.
M. GUSTAVE
What are you doing? That hurts!
In two seconds: both M. Gustave and Zero are locked in handcuffs with their arms behind their backs. At this point, M. Gustave explodes:
M. GUSTAVE
You filthy, goddamn, pock-marked, fascist assholes! (
In a pure rage.
) Take your hands off my lobby boy!
M. Gustave and Zero lock eyes across the fracas. In an instant: they are brothers. A new voice shouts from the end of the corridor:
HENCKELS
(
out of shot
)
What’s the problem?
All the soldiers snap to attention as a young officer appears in the doorway. He is well-groomed and clean-shaven. He wears a dress-grey uniform with a cape. He is Henckels. The first soldier hands him the scrap of paper and starts to explain the situation – but M. Gustave interrupts calmly with blood trickling from his nose:
M. GUSTAVE
This is outrageous. The young man works for me at the Grand Budapest Hotel in Nebelsbad.
Henckels turns suddenly to M. Gustave. He stares. He says in a quiet voice:
HENCKELS
M. Gustave?
M. Gustave looks at Henckels, curious. He nods slowly.
HENCKELS
My name is Henckels. I’m the son of Dr. and Mrs. Wolfgang Henckels-Bergersdorfer. Do you remember me?
M. GUSTAVE
I know exactly who you are. It’s uncanny. You’re little Albert.
HENCKELS
I’m terribly embarrassed. (
To the soldiers
.) Release them.
The soldiers immediately remove the handcuffs from both M. Gustave and Zero while Henckels takes out a notebook and begins to scribble something on a yellow ticket. M. Gustave sits down and presses his pink handkerchief to his nostril. Henckels says as he writes:
HENCKELS
Your colleague is stateless. He’ll need to apply for a revised Special Transit Permit, which, honestly, at this point, may be very difficult to acquire. Take this.
Henckels finishes writing, tears the ticket out of his notebook, and hands it to M. Gustave.
HENCKELS
It’s temporary, but it’s the best I can offer, I’m afraid.
M. GUSTAVE
How’s your wonderful mother?
HENCKELS
Very well, thank you.
M. GUSTAVE
I adore her. Send my love.
HENCKELS
I will.
Henckels motions politely for Zero to return to his seat and hands the scrap of paper back to him. Zero tucks it carefully into an envelope. His hands are shaking. Henckels says gently:
Your companion was very kind to me when I was a lonely little boy. (
To both M. Gustave and Zero.
) My men and I apologize for disturbing you.
Henckels turns coldly to the first soldier. He looks sheepish. He says, robotic, to M. Gustave:
SOLDIER 1
I beg your pardon, sir.
Henckels and the soldiers immediately leave the compartment, march down the corridor, and exit the coach. Silence.
M. GUSTAVE
You see? There
are
still faint glimmers of civilization left in this barbaric slaughterhouse that was once known as humanity. Indeed, that’s what
we
provide in our own modest, humble, insignificant – (
Sighs deeply
.) Oh, fuck it.
M. Gustave looks out the window as the train begins to move again. Zero appears to be in a state of numb shock.
Montage:
The cosmopolitan city of Lutz in the dead of night. A rickety Daimler taxi sputters along a winding cobblestone road at top speed. It squeezes up a narrow lane lined with shops. All are closed and shuttered. It dips into a tunnel through a brick building. It crosses a stone bridge high over a river. It drives through an iron gate, circles around a garden, and skids to a stop next to Madame D.’s limousine.
Up a short path, there is an enormous mansion.
INT. FOYER. DAY
A bell rings. Feet clack and echo on the wide marble floor. A maid in black hurries to open the front door. She is Clotilde. M. Gustave and Zero enter the vestibule while the taxi waits outside. M. Gustave kisses Clotilde on both cheeks and says immediately:
M. GUSTAVE
Where is she, Clotilde? Take me to her.
Clotilde leads M. Gustave with Zero in tow through a series of doors,
enfilade
, until they arrive at a dimly candlelit drawing room.
Murals of cherubs cover the walls. There is a harpsichord in one corner and a loudly ticking grandfather clock in another. The feet of the corpse,
in silver pumps, jut out, toes up, from inside the casket on top of a gold-leaf table.
M. Gustave stops and gasps. He turns to Clotilde and nods. She tugs Zero by the sleeve, and they withdraw. M. Gustave picks up a chair, carries it to the body, sets it down, and sits. Silence. He speaks in a normal, conversational voice:
M. GUSTAVE
You’re looking
so
well, darling. You really are. They’ve done a marvelous job. I don’t know what sort of cream they’ve put on you down at the morgue, but I
want
some. Honestly, you look better than you have in years. You look like you’re alive!
M. Gustave shakes his head in admiration. He leans down and kisses Madame D. on the lips. Zero and Clotilde, watching discreetly from the shadows in the next room, look slightly revolted.
M. Gustave takes the corpse’s hand. He notices something and hesitates.
Insert:
Madame D.’s fingernails. They are now lacquered in a rich plum. M. Gustave says, deeply moved:
M. GUSTAVE
You changed it, after all. It’s perfect. (
Calling to the next room
.) Clotilde?
Clotilde advances into view. She says respectfully:
MAID
Oui, M. Gustave?
M. GUSTAVE
A glass of chilled water with no ice, please.
CLOTIDE
Oui, M. Gustave – et aussi: M. Serge a démandé un mot avec vous en privé dans son office, s’il vous plaît
.
M. GUSTAVE
(
slightly irritated
)
Oh. Well, all right. (
Distracted, to the body
.) I shan’t be long, darling.
M. Gustave stands up and follows Clotilde through the row of doors. Zero looks back at the casket as he trails behind them.
MR. MOUSTAFA
(
voice-over
)
We were escorted through a green baize door, down a narrow service corridor, and into the butler’s pantry.
INT. OFFICE. NIGHT
A small chamber separated from the kitchen by a glass-paneled wall. M. Gustave checks his watch. There is a cup of water in his hand. Zero drinks a sip of milk. In the background, a sous-chef chops while the cook stirs a bubbling broth. Kitchen and scullery maids dart back and forth clanking pots and pans.
MR. MOUSTAFA
(
voice-over
)
A moment later, the kitchen passage swung open, and a small servant dressed in white jolted into the room.
An extremely anxious, petite butler enters with an ice bucket. He is Serge. He hacks chips off a frozen block in the sink and fills the container briskly. He turns to go – then spots M. Gustave looking out at him from inside the pantry.