Read The Grand Budapest Hotel Online
Authors: Wes Anderson
The Grand Budapest Hotel (2 page)
The author nods, attentive. He changes the subject to observe encouragingly, motioning toward the plunging pool across the hall:
AUTHOR
The thermal baths are very beautiful.
MR. MOUSTAFA
(
gently
)
They
were
, in their first condition. It couldn’t be maintained, of course. Too decadent for current tastes – but I love it all, just the same. This enchanting old ruin.
Mr. Moustafa looks wistfully around the vaulted space. The author squints, holds up a finger, and asks gingerly:
AUTHOR
How did you come to buy it, if I may ask? The Grand Budapest?
Pause. Mr. Moustafa disappears back behind the partition. The author looks slightly puzzled. Mr. Moustafa immediately reappears, but he has turned himself around in the tub and is now facing the opposite direction so he can more comfortably rest in view. He props his elbow onto the edge of the bath. His eyes twinkle as he says:
MR. MOUSTAFA
I didn’t.
At this moment, one of the matrons of the hammam blasts the fat, now naked, businessman with a jet of icy water. He hollers as he is sprayed down. Silence.
Mr. Moustafa and the author look back to each other. Each has raised an eyebrow. They both smile slightly.
MR. MOUSTAFA
If you’re not merely being polite (and you must tell me if that’s the case), but if it genuinely does interest you: may I invite you to dine with me tonight, and it will be my pleasure and, indeed, my privilege to tell you – ‘my’ story. Such as it is.
INT. DINING ROOM. NIGHT
The enormous restaurant as before – but now one of the tables has been set for two and is occupied by the author and Mr. Moustafa. The nine other guests watch, curious, from their usual spots.
Mr. Moustafa stares at the wine list as he rattles off a robust order
(
oysters, soup, rabbit, fowl, lamb
)
. ‘Boy with Apple’ is on the cover of the menu. The waiter departs.
MR. MOUSTAFA
That should provide us ample time – if I commence promptly.
AUTHOR
By all means.
Another waiter arrives to uncork a split of champagne and pours a thimbleful. Mr. Moustafa tastes it and nods. The waiter pours two full coupes. They each drink a long sip. Finally, Mr. Moustafa settles in:
MR. MOUSTAFA
It begins, as it must, with our mutual friend’s predecessor. The beloved,
original
concierge of the Grand Budapest. (
With deep affection
.) It begins, of course, with –
Title:
PART 1: ‘M. GUSTAVE’
INT. SITTING ROOM. DAY
The early thirties. A double-reception salon with high ceilings and two couches. There are six trunks and eight suitcases arranged neatly at the side of the room. Each is painted with the initials ‘Mdm. C.V. D. u.T.’ Outside, a light snow falls.
A tall, blond, forty-year-old concierge stands patiently alone surveying the room. He is tranquil, perfectly composed, waiting. He wears the faintest hint of mascara. He is M. Gustave.
M. Gustave crosses swiftly to the door and opens it just as a contingent of hotel staff arrives together from down the corridor. There are two waiters, two footmen, two bellboys, and an Arab teenager, small, cheerful, and alert, who appears to be some kind of page. He is Zero.
One of the waiters carries a table, and one carries a breakfast tray. M. Gustave ushers them in:
M. GUSTAVE
Bring the table to the window.
FIRST WAITER
Yes, M. Gustave.
M. GUSTAVE
Bring the tray to the table.
SECOND WAITER
Right away, M. Gustave.
M. GUSTAVE
(
pointing to two hats
)
Have those been brushed and blocked?
FOOTMAN
Of course, M. Gustave.
M. GUSTAVE
Pack them in the hat boxes. (
Pointing to a shopping bag
.) Is that from Oberstdorf and Company?
BELLBOY
I believe so, M. Gustave.
M. GUSTAVE
Second trunk. Who has the tickets?
Zero raises his hand.
ZERO
I do, M. Gustave.
M. GUSTAVE
Give them to me.
Zero hands M. Gustave a set of train tickets. M. Gustave studies them carefully. He nods and points.
These are in order. Wait in the corner.
Zero retreats. M. Gustave strides to the bedroom door, raps on it briefly, then swings it open.
Good morning, Madame. Your breakfast is served. The sitting room is a battlefield at the moment, but rest assured, you will be
en route
in precisely – (
Checks his watch
.) eleven minutes. You look heavenly. Pray be seated.
An immaculately dressed, eighty-year-old woman emerges from the bedroom, nimble, brisk – and highly agitated. She is Madame D. She is followed by two young women, a lady’s maid and a private secretary, who quickly join the hubbub fidgeting with trunks and rushing to-and-fro preparing for their departure.
M. Gustave waits for Madame D. to sit, then joins her; at which point, she immediately leans across to him and says in a gravely serious, urgent whisper:
MADAME D.
I’m not leaving.
M. GUSTAVE
(
puzzled
)
Why not?
MADAME D.
I’m frightened.
M. GUSTAVE
Of what?
MADAME D.
I feel this may be the last time we ever see each other.
M. GUSTAVE
Why on earth would that be the case?
MADAME D.
I can’t put it into words – but I
feel
it.
M. GUSTAVE
Well, for goodness’ sake, there’s no reason for you to leave us if –
MADAME D.
Is there a priest in the hotel?
M. GUSTAVE
Of course not.
MADAME D.
There should be. I’ve always said so.
M. GUSTAVE
Well, I’ve always profoundly disagreed. The Grand Budapest is no place for clergy.
MADAME D.
Come with me.
M. Gustave hesitates slightly. He gestures to the tickets and speculates in disbelief:
M. GUSTAVE
To Lutz?
MADAME D.
(
desperately
)
Please.
M. GUSTAVE
(
wildly frustrated
)
How can I? With this enormous rock-pile around my neck like an albatross. (
Taking charge
.) Tell me right now – wholly, specifically, and without abbreviation: what’s troubling you? (
Surprised
.) Are you weeping?
Tears have begun to stream down Madame D.’s cheeks. M. Gustave produces a dazzling pink handkerchief and dries her eyes. The old woman takes a deep breath.
MADAME D.
Let us pray.
Madame D. closes her eyes, lowers her chin, and crosses herself. M. Gustave reluctantly follows suit. Silence. Madame D. snaps one eye back open suddenly:
MADAME D.
Well?
M. GUSTAVE
(
surprised
)
You want
me
to do it?
MADAME D.
(
with authority
)
If you don’t mind.
M. GUSTAVE
(
instantly
)
Dear heavenly Father, please, protect our cherished guest as she travels through snow and sleet and under shadow of darkness. Guide her in the night to her final destination. Indeed, whatever luxury she may require, be it small or more extravagant, please, do grant –
MADAME D.
(
now with both eyes open
)
That’s not a proper prayer.
M. GUSTAVE
Give me your hand.
Madame D. does so. M. Gustave firmly clasps it. He says in an affectionate, reassuring, patronizing voice:
M. GUSTAVE
You’ve nothing to fear. You’re always anxious before you travel. I admit you appear to be suffering a more acute attack on this occasion, but, truly and honestly – (
Suddenly taken aback
.) Dear God. What’ve you done to your fingernails?
Madame D. wears an understated, pale-pink polish. She stiffens.
MADAME D.
I beg your pardon?
M. GUSTAVE
This diabolical varnish. The color’s completely wrong.
MADAME D.
(
slightly uncertain
)
Really? You don’t
like
it?
M. GUSTAVE
It’s not that I don’t like it. I’m physically repulsed. (
Checks his watch again
.) Time to go!
INT. CORRIDOR. DAY
The procession of trunks, cases, and assistants goes in one direction, and M. Gustave, Madame D., and Zero
(
carrying a small leather jewel case
)
go in the other.
Cut to:
The elevator on its way down. M. Gustave sits with Madame D.
(
now wearing gloves
)
on a velvet-upholstered bench. She clutches his arm and looks deeply concerned. Zero with the jewel case stands at attention alongside a veteran elevator operator.
M. GUSTAVE
Perhaps this will soothe you.
MADAME D.
(
alarmed
)
What? Don’t recite.
M. GUSTAVE
Just listen to the words.
MADAME D.
(
anxious
)
Please. Not now.
M. GUSTAVE
Hush! (
Declaiming gently
.) ‘While questing once in noble wood of grey, medieval pine, I came upon a tomb, rain-slick’d, rubbed-cool, ethereal; its inscription
long-vanished
, yet still within its melancholy fissures –’
Madame D. sighs deeply yet does seem to calm somewhat as she accepts the inevitability of these stanzas.
EXT. FRONT ENTRANCE. DAY
The trunks are piled on the roof of a long, silver limousine. More suitcases stick out of the rumble seat
(
along with the two bellboys
)
. Madame D. and her secretary sit inside the car. M. Gustave reaches in the window and tightens a fur stole around Madame D.’s shoulders.
MADAME D.
Will you light a candle for me, please? In the sacristy at Santa Maria.
Madame D. digs a five-Klubeck coin out of her handbag and presses it into M. Gustave’s hand. He accepts it:
M. GUSTAVE
I’ll see to it myself immediately. (
Saintly
.) Remember: I’m always with you.
M. Gustave begins to withdraw, but Madame D. grips his shoulder tightly. She whispers, sincere and impassioned, what she fears will be their last communication: