Read The Grand Budapest Hotel Online
Authors: Wes Anderson
The Grand Budapest Hotel (11 page)
Zero trails off. He looks apologetic. M. Gustave sighs, resigned. He says calmly:
M. GUSTAVE
I understand. Too risky. We’ll just have to wing it, I suppose. Let’s put on our disguises.
Zero hesitates. He looks down at his vagabond costume, then at M. Gustave’s. He says, confused:
ZERO
We’re
wearing
them.
M. GUSTAVE
(
frustrated
)
No, we’re not. We said false
whiskers
and fake
noses
and so on. You didn’t bring any?
ZERO
(
referring to moustache
)
I thought you were
growing
one. It wouldn’t look realistic, would it? I thought …
Zero trails off again. He deflates, distressed. M. Gustave remains calm.
M. GUSTAVE
When done properly, they’re perfectly convincing – but I take your point. So be it. Give me a few squirts of
L’Air de Panache
, please, will you?
Zero smacks his hand to his forehead and looks mortified. M. Gustave says bluntly:
M. GUSTAVE
Can I not get a squirt, even?
ZERO
(
miserably
)
I forgot the
L’Air de Panache
.
M. GUSTAVE
(
at peak frustration
)
Honestly
– you
forgot
the
L’Air de Panache
? I don’t
believe
it. How
could
you? I’ve been in jail. Zero! Do you understand how humiliating this is? I
smell
.
M. Gustave lifts up his arms. Zero sniffs him. He grimaces. M. Gustave’s eyes narrow. He begins to seethe.
Well, that’s just marvelous, isn’t it? I suppose this is to be expected back in – where do you come from, again?
ZERO
(
evenly
)
Aq Salim al-Jabat.
M. GUSTAVE
(
escalating
)
Precisely. I suppose this is to be expected back in Aq Salim al-Jabat where one’s prized possessions are a stack of filthy carpets and a starving goat, and one sleeps behind a
tent-flap
and survives on wild dates and scarabs – but it’s not how
I
trained you. What on God’s earth possessed you to leave the homeland where you very obviously belong and travel unspeakable distances to become a penniless immigrant in a refined, highly cultivated society that, quite frankly, could’ve gotten along very well without you?
ZERO
(
shrugs
)
The war.
M. GUSTAVE
(
pause
)
Say again?
Zero speaks softly and struggles deliberately to hold back his emotions as he says, staring at the ground:
ZERO
Well, you see, my father was murdered, and the rest of my family were executed by firing squad. Our village was burned to the ground. Those who managed to survive were forced to flee. I left – because of the war.
M. GUSTAVE
(
back-peddling
)
Ah, I see. So you’re, actually, really more of a refugee, in that sense.
ZERO
(
reserved
)
Truly.
M. GUSTAVE
(
ashamed
)
Well, I suppose I’d better take back everything I just said. What a bloody idiot I am. Pathetic
fool
. Goddamn selfish bastard. This is disgraceful – and it’s beneath the standards of the Grand Budapest.
Zero looks increasingly concerned as M. Gustave begins to come unglued. Tears stream down M. Gustave’s face. He stands at attention and says with deep deference:
I apologize on behalf of the hotel.
ZERO
(
gently
)
It’s not your fault, M. Gustave. You were just upset I forgot the perfume.
M. GUSTAVE
Don’t make excuses for me. I owe you my
life
.
M. Gustave takes Zero by the hand. He says with great feeling and sincerity:
You’re my
dear
friend and protégé, and I’m
very
proud of you. You
must
know that. I’m so sorry, Zero.
ZERO
(
gallantly
)
We’re
brothers
.
M. Gustave, touched to the quick, instantly kisses Zero on both cheeks and they embrace. They release each other. They try to pull themselves back together. Pause.
M. GUSTAVE
How’s our darling Agatha?
Zero starts to answer, then hesitates. He recites:
ZERO
‘’Twas first light when I saw her face upon the heath; and hence did I return, day by day, entranc’d: tho’ vinegar did brine my heart –’
A powerful siren begins to blast across the region. Zero’s eyes dart around, startled. M. Gustave says over the noise, impressed:
M. GUSTAVE
Very
good! I’m going to stop you because the alarm has sounded – but remember where we left off, because I
insist
you finish later!
M. Gustave and Zero take off full speed down the road.
INT. TELEPHONE BOOTH. NIGHT
A black-and-yellow wooden call-box next to a tiny pub outside the village. Windmills spin gently on the far side of a wheat field in the distance. Zero holds the door open while M. Gustave dials.
M. GUSTAVE
Operator, get me the Excelsior Palace in Baden-Jürgen and reverse the charges, please. (
To Zero.
) We’ve no choice. There’s nowhere else to turn. (
Into the receiver.
) I’ll hold. Thank you. (
To Zero.
) It’s our only hope. Otherwise, I shouldn’t even mention its existence to you. It goes without saying, you must never breath a word about this to a living soul. Do you swear?
ZERO
Of course. What
is
it, in fact?
M. GUSTAVE
I can’t say. (
Into the receiver.
)
Guten Abend. M. Ivan, bitte. Danke.
(
By way of explanation, to Zero.
) How does one come by front-row aisle seats for a first night at the Opera Toscana with one day’s notice? How does one arrange a private viewing of the tapestry collection at the Royal Saxon Gallery? How does one secure a corner table at Chez Dominique on a
Thursday
?
Zero nods as he takes this in, intrigued. Pause. M. Gustave says suddenly into the receiver, turning on the charm:
Ivan, darling, it’s Gustave! Hello! Well, I
was
until about five minutes ago. We’ve taken it upon ourselves to clear out in a
hurry, if you see what I mean. Through a sewer, as it happens. Exactly! Listen, Ivan, sorry to cut you off, but we’re in a bit of a bind. This is an official request. (
Officially.
) I’m formally calling upon the special services of –
Title:
PART 4:
‘THE SOCIETY OF THE CROSSED KEYS’
INT. FIRST LOBBY. NIGHT
Concierge desk No.1. There are rows of mailboxes with room numbers on them, keys on hooks, and a bell on the counter-top. A slim concierge with a long moustache talks on the telephone. He is M. Ivan. A lobby boy waits beside him silently.
M. IVAN
I’ll call you back, Gustave. Right. Stand by.
M. Ivan hangs up the telephone and turns to a waiting young couple as he produces a small paper map from a drawer.
I beg your pardon. Do you prefer to walk? We’re right here.
M. Ivan makes a little ‘X’ in ink on the map. He draws a line.
It’s very simple. Straight down the corniche. Then left. (
To the lobby boy.
) Jojo, see them out.
The young couple take the map gratefully, and the lobby boy escorts them away. M. Ivan picks up the telephone again and says urgently:
Get me M. Georges at the Château Luxe, please.
Cut to:
The dining room at a hunting lodge. One hundred small children crowd around a long table. There is a huge birthday cake with seven lit candles on it. Streamers hang from the ceiling. Balloons float on strings. A very tall, bony concierge conducts the room singing ‘Happy Birthday’. He is M. Georges.
A lobby boy goes over to M. Georges and whispers in his ear. M. Georges nods and quickly exits. The lobby boy replaces him and takes over the conducting.
INT. SECOND LOBBY. NIGHT
Concierge desk No. 2. M. Georges picks up the telephone.
M. GEORGES
Hello, Ivan? You don’t say? Is he really? How about that? Got it.
M. Georges presses down on the hook to disconnect, then lifts it up again and says urgently:
M. GEORGES
Get me M. Dino at the Palazzo Principessa, please.
Cut to:
A busy piazza across from a church. There is a crowded trattoria on the sidewalk. There is a statue of a centurion. One hundred men and women in pajamas and bath robes stand on the street in front of a hotel looking up at a fourth-floor window with smoke gushing out of it while a ladder extends from a fire engine toward a calm old woman at the window sill. An alarm rings loudly. A stocky concierge with slick, black hair stands at the front of the crowd yelling orders and holding a fire extinguisher. He is M. Dino.
A lobby boy goes over to M. Reggio and whispers in his ear. M. Dino nods and quickly goes into the hotel. The lobby boy takes the fire extinguisher and replaces him yelling orders.
INT. THIRD LOBBY. NIGHT
Concierge desk No. 3. The lobby is a bit smoky. M. Dino picks up the telephone.
M. DINO
M. Georges. No trouble at all. Tell me. I see. I see. Straight away.
M. Dino presses down on the hook to disconnect, then lifts it up again and says urgently:
M. DINO
Get me M. Robin at L’Hôtel Côte du Cap, please.
Cut to:
A clay tennis court overlooking a bright blue sea at sunset. Twenty-five men and women in tennis whites and bathing suits circle around another tennis player lying flat on his back on the ground while a very fit, sporty concierge with a pompadour sits on one knee next to him checking his pulse. He is M. Robin.
A lobby boy goes over to M. Robin and whispers in his ear. M. Robin nods and quickly leaves the court. The lobby boy replaces him and resumes checking the fallen man’s pulse.
INT. FOURTH LOBBY. NIGHT
Concierge desk No. 4. M. Robin picks up the telephone.
M. ROBIN
This is M. Robin. Yes, Dino. Yes, Dino. Yes, Dino. OK, Dino.
M. Robin presses down on the hook to disconnect, then lifts it up again and says urgently:
M. ROBIN
Get me M. Martin at the Ritz Imperial, please.
Cut to:
An extremely busy hotel kitchen filled with cooks of every rank and specialty. Waiters dash in and out continuously. A small, round concierge with a pink face is screaming and pointing a serving fork at the chef, who is flambé-ing a crêpe Suzette). He is M. Martin.
A lobby boy goes over to M. Martin and whispers in his ear. M. Martin nods and quickly exits the kitchen. The lobby boy takes the serving fork and replaces him screaming at the chef.
INT. FIFTH LOBBY. NIGHT
Concierge desk No. 5. M. Martin picks up the telephone.
M. MARTIN
Robin, Martin. I know. So I heard. (
Suddenly intrigued.
) Maybe. (
Gravely.
) Let me make a few calls.
EXT. WHEAT FIELD. NIGHT
M. Gustave and Zero wait hidden behind a haystack next to the telephone booth. M. Gustave recaps:
M. GUSTAVE
Serge X: missing. Deputy Kovacs: also missing. Madame D.: dead. ‘Boy with Apple’: stolen (by us). Dmitri and Jopling: ruthless, cold-blooded savages. Gustave H: at large. What else?
ZERO
Zero: confused.