Read The Grand Budapest Hotel Online
Authors: Wes Anderson
The Grand Budapest Hotel (8 page)
Of course he does. What’s the charge?
INT. TAVERN. NIGHT
An alcove in a corner of a dark, seedy, back-street ale house. Shady characters lurk at the counter. Zero sits across from Deputy Kovacs, who reads a report to him by the light of an oil-lamp. They both sip mugs of lager. There is also a small Bible on the table.
DEPUTY KOVACS
‘In the small hours of the evening of nineteen October, an individual well-known to the house and staff, a M. Gustave H., did arrive at the Desgoffe und Taxis residence in Lutz and enter by the rear service alley, alerting no one to his
presence, and did then proceed by way of back-stairs and servants’ passage to deliver himself into the private chambers of Madame D. There is no evidence to indicate whether this visit had been pre arranged with her or not. The next morning, Madame D. was found dead by strychnine poison ing. M. Gustave was not observed on the premises again until –’ of course – ‘twenty-four hours later.’ The identity of his accusers is made clear in this notarized deposition.
Deputy Kovacs produces another document which he hands to Zero. Zero studies it as Deputy Kovacs continues:
DEPUTY KOVACS
They include, essentially, all members of the extended family – but the key witness who actually (ostensibly) saw the alleged events appears to have fled the jurisdiction. His whereabouts are currently unknown, but he’s being sought and pursued by the relevant authorities.
ZERO
(
concerned
)
Who
is
he?
Cut to:
M. Gustave with a look of utter astonishment on his face. He blurts out:
M. GUSTAVE
Serge?
ZERO
I’m afraid so.
M. GUSTAVE
That little
prick
.
Pause. M. Gustave reconsiders.
M. GUSTAVE
No, I don’t believe it. They put him up to it. I’ve been dropped into a nest of vipers.
ZERO
You have an alibi?
M. GUSTAVE
(
offhand
)
Certainly, but she’s married to the Duke of Westphalia. I can’t allow her name to get mixed up in all this monkey business.
ZERO
(
gravely
)
M. Gustave: your
life
may be at stake.
M. GUSTAVE
(
bitterly
)
I know, but the bitch legged it. She’s already on the
Queen Nasstasja
halfway to Dutch Tanganyika.
M. Gustave sighs and stares at the floor, shaking his head. He looks like he is about to cry. Zero says finally – almost inaudibly:
ZERO
Don’t give up.
M. Gustave looks back to Zero. He nods. He points.
M. GUSTAVE
What’s in the box?
ZERO
(
encouraging
)
A Courtesan
au chocolat
.
M. GUSTAVE
(
deeply moved
)
From Mendl’s. Thank you, my angel.
EXT. STREET. NIGHT
A dark lane crowded with narrow, crooked little buildings. Rushing water gurgles down the gutters. A pack of rats darts across the road in single-file and disappears into a drainpipe. A church bell rings across the city.
Jopling waits on the threshold of a ramshackle cottage staring at the front door.
MR. MOUSTAFA
(
voice-over
)
The details of the conspiracy, now a matter of public record, were, at that time, impossible for us to apprehend.
The door cracks open. A young Washerwoman with a club-foot and a rag in her hands peers out. Jopling hands the woman his card. She studies it.
Insert:
An engraved calling card on bright, white stock which reads:
J. G. Jopling, Esq.
PRIVATE INQUIRY AGENT
The woman looks back up to Jopling, nervous. He says in a low voice:
JOPLING
I’m looking for Serge X. – a young man in the service of my employers, the family Desgoffe und Taxis of Schloss Lutz.
WASHERWOMAN
(
timidly
)
Yes, sir?
JOPLING
You’re his sister?
WASHERWOMAN
Yes, sir.
JOPLING
Seen him lately?
WASHERWOMAN
(
surprised
)
No, sir.
JOPLING
(
doubtful
)
No, sir?
WASHERWOMAN
(
innocent
)
No, sir.
JOPLING
I need to find him right away. For his own safety – (
Pointing in her face
.) And everyone else’s. If he shows up?
WASHERWOMAN
(
tentatively
)
Yes, sir?
JOPLING
(
darkly
)
Tell him Jopling says, ‘Come home.’
Pause. The woman nods. Jopling turns away and walks over to a black motorcycle parked at the corner.
MR. MOUSTAFA
(
voice-over
)
But one thing was certain: the Desgoffe und Taxis were a very powerful family –
Jopling puts on a pair of goggles, kick-starts his engine, revs the motor, and rumbles away. The woman shuts the door and locks the bolt.
Cut to:
Jopling racing his howling motorcycle through the center of the city at midnight. Under the goggles, his eyes are calm.
MR. MOUSTAFA
(
voice-over
)
– and time was not on our side.
INT. MESS HALL. NIGHT
Another evening meal. The full assembled staff sits at the long table, anxious and curious, murmuring. The cook waits, uncertain, gripping a cauldron by his oven-mitts. A door swings open.
Mr. Mosher and Zero stride into the room. Mr. Mosher holds up an envelope and beckons to Zero.
MR. MOSHER
A letter from M. Gustave. Zero?
The staff whispers excitedly then falls silent as Zero ascends M. Gustave’s podium, opens the envelope, and takes out a piece of paper. Pause. Zero clears his throat and reads in a formal voice:
‘My dear and trusted colleagues –’
Cut to:
M. Gustave in his cell (where his podium seems to have been magically transported). A gentle halo of light glows behind him. He addresses the camera as he begins his usual pacing:
M. GUSTAVE
– I miss you deeply as I write from the confines of my regrettable and preposterous incarceration. Until I walk amongst you again as a free man, the Grand Budapest remains in your hands – as does its impeccable reputation. Keep it spotless and glorify it. Take extra special care of every little-bitty bit of it as if I were watching over you like a hawk with a horsewhip in its talons – (
brandishing a soup-ladle
) because I
am
. Should I discover a lapse of any variety during my absence, I promise: swift and merciless justice will descend upon you. A great and noble house has been placed under your protection. (Tell Zero if you see any funny business.)
Cut to:
Zero at podium. He concludes:
ZERO
‘Your devoted M. Gustave.’ Then there’s a poem, but we might want to go ahead and start on the soup, since it’s forty-six stanzas.
Mr. Mosher signals to the cook. He begins to serve as Zero reads on:
ZERO
‘A moist, black ash dampens the filth of a dung-dark
rat’s-nest
and mingles with the thick scent of wood-rot while the lark-song of a guttersnipe echoes across a –’
INT. CORRIDOR. DAY
M. Gustave pushes a metal cart with a stack of plates and a steel tureen on it through a barred door. He stops in front of a large cell where four convicts loiter on their bunks playing cards, scratching graffiti on the walls, and looking at dirty pictures.
M. GUSTAVE
May I offer any of you inmates a plate of mush?
The convicts all look to M. Gustave at once. No one speaks. M. Gustave hesitates.
No? Anyone? You – with the very large scar on your face?
M. Gustave points to a seven-foot giant with a deep slash from the top corner of his forehead all the way down and across to the other side of his chin. The giant frowns. He stands up. The other convicts look uneasy.
Come now. Try it. It’s, actually, quite warm and nourishing this morning. It needs a dash of salt.
M. Gustave prepares a plate of lumpy gruel for the giant. He shakes in a touch of salt from a shaker. The giant tastes it. Pause. He shrugs, pleased. He nods. M. Gustave smiles.
Good day.
M. Gustave pushes his cart to the next cell. A bald wrestler lifts weights while an old man spots him.
Mush, gents? Any takers?
The wrestler and the old man look at M. Gustave blankly with the bar-bell in the air. M. Gustave shrugs and says regretfully:
Suit yourselves.
M. Gustave pushes his cart to the next cell. These convicts are all asleep. M. Gustave says with a musical lilt:
Rise and shine. Chop-chop!
A wiry, pint-sized convict the shape of a fire hydrant squints out from under his covers. He is Pinky.
Good morning, Pinky.
Pinky yawns and sets his feet to the floor. The convicts in the other bunks also begin to rustle. Their faces are brutal, and their bodies are hard and powerful. They are Günther and Wolf
. (
A fourth convict, also in the room, begins to get out of bed, as well – but his face is not revealed for the moment.
)
M. Gustave reaches to the lower shelf of the cart and produces a pink pastry-box. All the convicts quickly gather at a small table.
(
The fourth convict sits with his back to the camera.
)
Pinky says eagerly:
PINKY
Mendl’s again?
M. GUSTAVE
Precisely. Who’s got the throat-slitter?
Günther digs in his sock and takes out a small weapon consisting of a half-toothbrush fixed with wire to a hand-slivered straight razor cut into serrated teeth. M. Gustave folds open the pastry-box and cuts a Courtesan au chocolat into careful segments. The convicts eat daintily. Wolf says, chewing:
WOLF
Out of this world.
M. GUSTAVE
(
obviously
)
Mendl’s is the best. Well, back to work.
M. Gustave rises. Pinky says suddenly:
PINKY
Mr. Gustave?
M. GUSTAVE
(
hesitates
)
Yeah?
Pinky exchanges a look with the others. They nod. He darts to the door, looks up and down the corridor, then closes it softly. He signals for M. Gustave to sit back down. M. Gustave, slightly puzzled, obeys. They all lean in closer as Pinky whispers:
PINKY
Me and the boys talked it over. We think you’re a real straight fella.
M. GUSTAVE
Well, I’ve never been accused of that before, but I appreciate the sentiment.
PINKY
You’re one of us now.
M. GUSTAVE
(
somewhat moved
)
What a lovely thing to say. Thank you, dear Pinky. Thank you, Günther. Thank you, Wolf. I couldn’t ask for a finer tribute.
M. Gustave bows slightly. He hesitates.
M. GUSTAVE
Anything else?
Pinky looks to the fourth convict. He nods:
PINKY
Tell him, Ludwig.
Cut to:
The fourth convict. Numerous short scars chop skinny, bald lines into his shorn scalp. His arms are tattooed heavily with skulls, skeletons, and images of the grim reaper. He has one silver tooth and a bit of butter-cream icing on the side of his mouth. He is Ludwig.
Ludwig takes a deep breath. He launches into his spiel: