Read The Grand Budapest Hotel Online
Authors: Wes Anderson
The Grand Budapest Hotel (7 page)
M. GUSTAVE
(
swooning
)
Beyond description. (
Reciting
.) ‘E’en the most gifted bard’s rhyme can only sing but to the
lack
of her and all she
isn’t
! His tongue doth trip –’
ZERO
Can I see it?
M. Gustave looks surprised. Pause.
M. GUSTAVE
I don’t see why not.
M. Gustave zooms out through the scullery and into a little stairwell. Zero follows. They spiral up a steep flight.
Cut to:
A wide landing overlooking the foyer. The voices of the bickering assembly echo from the rear of the house. M. Gustave looks quickly left and right, then darts down the hallway and through a set of double doors.
INT. LIBRARY. NIGHT
A long, narrow gallery lined from floor to ceiling with books and paintings. M. Gustave leads Zero straight through to the far end where ‘Boy with Apple’ hangs above a fireplace. He stands beside it facing Zero and assumes the role of a museum docent:
M. GUSTAVE
This is van Hoytl’s exquisite portrayal of a beautiful boy on the cusp of manhood. Blond, smooth. Skin as white as
that
milk. (
Pointing to Zero’s glass
.) Of impeccable provenance. One of the last in private hands – and, unquestionably, the best. It’s a masterpiece. The rest of this shit is worthless junk.
M. Gustave and Zero stand side by side and admire the picture for a long minute – then Zero looks strangely to M. Gustave. M. Gustave looks back at him, curious. Zero’s eyes flicker. M. Gustave frowns.
Zero goes to the corner, picks up a footstool, and places it on the hearth.
M. Gustave hesitates. He steps up onto the footstool. He lifts the painting off its hooks. He comes back down to the floor. There is a dark rectangle in the wallpaper marking the absent picture. He turns to Zero again, uncertain.
Behind the fire-irons, leaning against a stack of etchings, Zero spots a woodcut print of two lesbians masturbating. He grabs it and hangs it in the painting’s place.
INT. FOYER. NIGHT
M. Gustave and Zero circle rapidly down the wide staircase. Serge comes into the room at the same time and meets them as they arrive at the front door. He says breathlessly:
SERGE
M. Gustave!
Pardonnez-moi. Ce n’est pas
–
Serge sees the painting tucked under M. Gustave’s arm. He stares at it. He says reluctantly:
SERGE
Je peux vous aider?
M. GUSTAVE
Oui, Serge. Vous pouvez emballer celui-là.
SERGE
(
hesitates
)
Emballer
– ‘Boy with Apple’?
M. Gustave nods and hands Serge the picture. Serge takes it. Pause. He goes over to a bureau, withdraws a large sheet of wrapping-paper, folds it around the painting, and ties it with string. He returns the parcel to M. Gustave.
M. GUSTAVE
Merci, Serge.
Serge opens the front door. M. Gustave and Zero quickly go outside and get into the taxi. Serge, overwhelmed and confused, with tears in his eyes, looks in at them through one of the back-seat windows. M. Gustave rolls it down.
M. GUSTAVE
What’d you want to tell me? Before.
SERGE
(
long pause, with a heavy accent
)
I think I cannot say right now.
M. GUSTAVE
(
short pause
)
Write me tomorrow. (
Sharply, to the driver
.) Lutzbahn Station!
The taxi’s tires squeal, and the car shoots down the driveway. Serge watches, deeply anguished and disturbed.
INT. TRAIN COMPARTMENT. NIGHT
A sleeper on the overnight to Nebelsbad. The bunks have been folded down and made up, and both M. Gustave and Zero wear pajamas.
(
M. Gustave’s are of burgundy silk and belted.
)
‘Boy with Apple’, partially unwrapped, is on display, balanced along the edge of the washbasin. M. Gustave says soberly:
M. GUSTAVE
I’ll never part with it. It reminded her of me. It will remind me of her. Always. I’ll die with this picture above my bed. (
Quickly
.) See the resemblance?
M. Gustave positions himself alongside the painting. Zero mutters politely from his bed:
ZERO
Oh, yes.
M. Gustave lies down. He stares up at the ceiling. Pause.
M. GUSTAVE
Actually, we should sell it. Sooner rather than later, in case they try and steal it back. Plus: something about those lunatic foot-soldiers on the express – I think this could be a tricky war and a long dry spell in the hotel trade. For all we know, they could board us up tomorrow.
Zero looks alarmed. M. Gustave sits up again and signals for him to come closer. Zero joins him.
M. GUSTAVE
Let’s make a solemn blood-pact. We’ll contact the
black-market
and liquidate ‘Boy with Apple’ by the end of the week, then leave the country and lay low somewhere along the Maltese Riviera until the troubles blow over and we resume our posts. In exchange for your help, your loyalty, and your services as my personal valet, I pledge to you: one-point-five percent of the net sale price.
Zero takes this in. He says quietly:
ZERO
One-point-five.
M. GUSTAVE
Plus room and board.
ZERO
(
optimistic
)
Could we make it ten?
M. GUSTAVE
(
in disbelief
)
Ten?
Are you joking? That’s more than I’d pay an actual
dealer
– and you wouldn’t know chiaroscuro from chicken giblets. No, one-point-five is correct – but I’ll tell you what: if I die first, and I most certainly will,
you
will be my sole heir. There’s not much in the kitty except a set of ivory-backed hairbrushes and my library of romantic poetry – but, when the time comes, these will be yours, along with whatever we haven’t already spent on whores and whiskey. This is our sacred bond. I’ll draw it up right now.
Pause. Zero nods. M. Gustave whisks a drinks menu out of a slot on the wall, places it face down on the night-stand, and sets a fountain pen on top of it. He dictates:
M. GUSTAVE
I, M. Gustave H., being of relatively sound mind and body, on this day the twenty-seventh of October in the year of our Lord nineteen hundred and –
Zero quickly uncaps the pen and begins to write.
INT. STORAGE PANTRY. DAY
The next morning. A vault adjacent to the meeting room above the lobby. There are rows of safety-deposit boxes with engraved room numbers along the walls. M. Gustave hides the wrapped package behind a radiator. He takes a fur stole off a coat-hanger and drapes it awkwardly over the top. They exit the room. M. Gustave closes the heavy, inner door and spins the combination lock, then slides an outer one shut and bolts it with a key.
ANATOLE
(
out of shot
)
Excuse me.
M. Gustave and Zero jump. They turn around quickly and see Anatole standing in the doorway. M. Gustave mumbles, anxious:
M. GUSTAVE
Uh-huh?
ANATOLE
(
intrigued
)
The police are here. They asked for you.
Silence. M. Gustave nods. He says cheerily:
M. GUSTAVE
Tell them we’ll be right down.
Anatole goes back down the steps. M. Gustave and Zero look down into the lobby through a window. Eight uniformed officers wait at the concierge desk. M. Gustave says tensely:
M. GUSTAVE
Have you ever been questioned by the authorities?
ZERO
(
grimly
)
Yes, on one occasion, I was arrested and tortured by the rebel militia after the Desert Uprising.
M. GUSTAVE
(
hesitates
)
Right. Well, you know the drill, then. Zip it.
ZERO
Of course.
M. GUSTAVE
You’ve never heard the word ‘van Hoytl’ in your life.
ZERO
Got it.
M. GUSTAVE
OK. Let’s go.
M. Gustave and Zero descend into the lobby. M. Gustave’s face brightens as he crosses the room and greets the visitors:
M. GUSTAVE
How may we serve you, gentlemen?
POLICE CAPTAIN
(
producing a warrant
)
By order of the Commissioner of Police, Zubrowka Province, I hereby place you under arrest for the murder of Madame Céline Villeneuve Desgoffe und Taxis.
M. GUSTAVE
(
somehow vindicated
)
I
knew
there was something fishy! We never got the cause of
death
! She’s been
murdered
– and you think
I
did it.
M. Gustave turns away and breaks into a sprint through the lobby. The police chase him. Zero watches, stunned.
Title:
PART 3: CHECKPOINT 19 CRIMINAL INTERNMENT CAMP
EXT. PRISON. DAY
A buttressed castle on a high rock spur. Clusters of tangled barbed-wire decorate the tops of the walls above a sheer cliff that drops straight down into the medieval village below.
Zero stands waiting with a small pink pastry-box in his hands. There is a guard with a tommy gun next to him. Silence.
A hidden gear begins to crank, and a heavy iron and oak gate swings slowly open. The guard makes an offhand toss of the head to signal for Zero to proceed. Zero nods politely and starts across a narrow bridge over a moat. Two more guards wait at the far end in front of the doors to a fortified keep.
INT. VISITING ROOM. DAY
A converted armory containing a row of chairs along an extended table with a penitentiary-style wire-glass partition down the middle. Zero sits alone. The pastry-box is in front of him next to a glass of water. A door opens, and another guard escorts M. Gustave into the room.
M. Gustave is now dressed in a striped prison uniform with his cap worn at a slight tilt. His hands are shackled. His face is purple and misshapen, covered almost entirely with bruises and abrasions, with one eye swollen completely shut. He sits down facing Zero on the other side of the partition.
(
There is a glass of water for him, as well
.)
The guard waits in the corner. He checks his watch.
Zero looks horrified. He gasps:
ZERO
What happened?
M. GUSTAVE
What happened, my dear Zero, is I beat the living shit out of a snivelling little runt called Pinky Bandinski who had
the gall to question my virility – because if there’s one thing we’ve learned from penny dreadfuls, it’s that, when you find yourself in a place like this, you must never be a candy-ass. You’ve got to prove yourself from day one. You’ve got to win their respect. Of course, I’ve got about a foot and a half of reach on Pinky, so once I’d pried him loose out from under my armpit, it was short order before I whipped him into scrambled eggs. (
Takes a sip of water
.) You should take a long look at
his
ugly mug this morning. (
Spits blood back into the cup
.) He’s actually become a dear friend. You’ll meet him, I hope. So.
M. Gustave slides closer to the glass. So does Zero.
You talk to Kovacs?
ZERO
I saw him last night in secret. He made me take an oath (on a Bible). I wouldn’t tell a soul. You’re supposed to, also.
M. GUSTAVE
(
irritated
)
I’ll do that later.
ZERO
He suspects you’re innocent.
M. GUSTAVE