Authors: Wes Anderson

The Grand Budapest Hotel (17 page)

M. Gustave hands the soldier Henckels’ special document. The soldier shows it to his associates. They confer rapidly at a whisper. There is some debate. Before M. Gustave can work his magic – the soldier rips the special document to shreds.

Pause.

M. Gustave looks to Zero. Zero and Agatha are both stunned and frightened. M. Gustave seems to smile very slightly, reassuring them, and somehow sends a sincere, private message:

M. GUSTAVE

Good luck.

M. Gustave’s jaw hardens. He pegs his glass of wine at the soldier, shattering it, and explodes:

You filthy, goddamn, pock-marked, fascist assholes!

M. Gustave is instantly on his feet, tussling. Zero jumps up to intervene, trying to calm everyone down – and is immediately bashed in the face with the stock of a rifle and dropped to the floor, out cold. M. Gustave shouts and struggles. Agatha screams.

MR. MOUSTAFA

(
voice-over
)

There
are
still faint glimmers of civilization left in this barbaric slaughterhouse that was once known as humanity.

INT. CORRIDOR. DAY

The three soldiers whisk M. Gustave, now in handcuffs, out of the compartment and manhandle him down the length of the coach while he shouts furiously, berating them:

M. GUSTAVE

I give you my word: I’ll see all three of you dishonorably discharged, locked-up in the stockade, and
hanged
by sundown! (
Screaming in rage.
) Where is your commanding officer?

Cut to:

Zero with his head out the window of the once-again speeding train.

A significant volume of blood runs from his forehead around his eye and down into his shirt collar, soaked deep red. He clutches his little scrap of paper in his fist. The wind rustles against his neck. His mouth is open. His face is frozen. Tears stream down his cheeks
.

MR. MOUSTAFA

(
voice-over, re: ‘glimmers of civilization’
)

He was one of them. What more is there to say?

Agatha, also in tears, pulls Zero back inside.

Cut to:

The dining room. Mr. Moustafa and the author sit in front of their desserts: Courtesans
au chocolat.
They are the last remaining guests in the giant restaurant. A waiter sets places for breakfast at tables in the background.

Two glasses of sweet wine are served. Mr. Moustafa and the author sip them. The author asks gently:

AUTHOR

What happened in the end?

MR. MOUSTAFA

(
shrugs
)

In the end, they shot him. (
Pause.
) So it all went to me.

Mr. Moustafa smiles sadly. He and the author begin to eat their confections in silence. They appear to enjoy them very much.

INT. LOBBY. NIGHT

The room is deserted, and the lights have been dimmed. Mr. Moustafa and the author wait at the concierge desk. It is not occupied.

AUTHOR

(
voice-over
)

After dinner, we went to collect the keys to our rooms – but M. Jean had abandoned his post.

Mr. Moustafa looks around. He shrugs. He says, bittersweet:

MR. MOUSTAFA

I expect he’s forgotten all about us.

Mr. Moustafa winks at the author and slips around behind the concierge desk.

AUTHOR

(
voice-over
)

In recent years, of course, such properties and holdings as the Grand Budapest had with very few exceptions become – common property.

Mr. Moustafa takes great pleasure as he: opens a drawer and tidies up its contents slightly; pulls a stack of envelopes out of a slot, flips through them, and hands one to the author; straightens ‘Boy with Apple’ slightly; then takes two keys off their hooks.

AUTHOR

(
voice-over
)

While the precise terms of his negotiation with the new government had never been announced, the result was an open secret: Zero Moustafa had traded a great and important fortune in exchange for one costly, unprofitable, doomed hotel. Why?

Insert:

The author’s room key as Mr. Moustafa places it onto the desk. It is labeled
M
.
GUSTAVE SUITE
.

AUTHOR

(
voice-over
)

Was it merely sentimental?

Mr. Moustafa holds the author by the arm with two hands as the author walks him the length of the room to the elevator.

It was quite forward of me and a bit out of character, but I felt I must know – for my health, I suppose. I took the plunge.

Cut to:

One minute later. Mr. Moustafa and the author stand at the entrance to the elevator facing each other. Silence. The author says suddenly, slightly worried:

AUTHOR

Forgive me for asking. I hope I haven’t upset you.

MR. MOUSTAFA

(
dismissing it
)

Of course, not.

AUTHOR

(
long pause
)

Is it simply your last connection to that – vanished world?
His
world, if you will?

MR. MOUSTAFA

(
doubtful
)

His
world?

Mr. Moustafa considers this. He shakes his head slowly.

No, I don’t think so. You see, we shared a vocation. It wouldn’t have been necessary. He’s
always
with me. (
Pause.
) No, the hotel – I keep for Agatha.

Mr. Moustafa pulls up his lapel slightly and shows the author Agatha’s crossed-keys pendant pinned to his jacket. He hides it away again.

MR. MOUSTAFA

We were happy here. For a little while.

The author nods solemnly. Mr. Moustafa presses a button to call the elevator. It immediately opens. He starts to enter – but puts up his hand to hold the door as he stops, turns back, and says:

To be frank, I think
his
world had vanished long before he ever entered it – but, I will say: he certainly sustained the illusion with a marvelous grace! (
Pause.
) Are you going up?

AUTHOR

(
politely
)

No, I’ll sit for a little while. Good night.

MR. MOUSTAFA

Good night.

Mr. Moustafa steps inside. He presses a button and the doors close. The author stands still, staring into space. He sniffs the air. He smiles sadly.

AUTHOR

(
voice-over
)

The next week, I sailed for a cure in South America and began a long, wandering journey abroad. I did not return to Europe for many years.

EXT. HOTEL. NIGHT

The entrance at midnight. A doorman sweeps the steps below the front door. Only one room’s light is illuminated: a little window at the far edge of the top floor.

AUTHOR

(
voice-over
)

It
was
an enchanting old ruin – but I never managed to see it again.

The light goes out.

Cut to:

The lobby. The author sits alone in an armchair in the deserted room writing in a small notebook. Cut to: The study. The author
(
at seventy-five
)
sits in an armchair writing in an identical small notebook. The six-year-old boy plays with an army of metal soldiers on the floor beside him.

Cut to:

The park. The girl in the trench-coat and beret sits on a bench near the statue of the author. She is just finishing the final chapter of:

THE GRAND BUDAPEST HOTEL

The Grand Budapest Hotel

CHARACTER SKETCHES BY JUMAN MALOUF