Hotel Rwanda Page #2

ZOZO:

Boss, some of those men are my neighbors,

they know I'm Tutsi.

The parade passes. As they wait Paul takes out the wad of notes George

gave him, peels off a few dollars.

PAUL:

Here, Zozo, for your trouble.

Zozo takes it.

EXT. HOTEL ENTRANCE. DAY

The van turns off the street into The Milles Collines Hotel driveway

and HONKS twice as it pulls down a short drive lined with tall shrubs.

An ARMED GUARD rushes from his booth and lifts the gate. Perfectly

timed. The van doesn't even have to slow as it passes. A sign on the

guard house reads "WELCOME TO THE HOTEL MILLE COLLINES".

EXT. HOTEL FORECOURT. DAY

Lush tropical gardens, peacocks wander the well-manicured lawns,an

exotic African paradise. The van heads to a magnificent colonial

building.

PAUL (V.O.)

Pull up at the front door.

A valet opens the front door of the hotel and looks shocked. It's

unheard of for a service van to stop out front.

PAUL (CONT'D)

(urgent, to the valet)

Help Zozo.

INT. HOTEL LOBBY. DAY

Paul leads Zozo and the valet into a magnificent lobby, a tasteful

blend of Africa and Europe. Guests stare as water sloshes and spills

from the crate.

GREGOIRE, early thirties the receptionist behind the desk throws a look

of disapproval. Paul, imperial, snaps his finger toward him.

PAUL:

(re:
spilled water)

Gregoire. Take care of this.

Gregoire engages a guest in chit-chat, ignores Paul.

PAUL (CONT'D)

Gregoire! See to this right away.

The elevator door opens and reveals BIK the Belgian hotel manager, mid-

40's, reading some reports. He looks up, sees Paul and Zozo carrying

the box as they step in. Bik looks puzzled.

PAUL (CONT'D)

It's an emergency, sir.

Now Bik sees the wet floor.

BIK:

Paul!

PAUL:

Gregoire will deal with it, excuse me.

The elevator doors shut. Bik's left standing in disbelief.

INT. HOTEL KITCHEN. DAY

The crate is hefted onto a counter. The top pried off. A crowd of

cooks gathers around Paul and Zozo as they peer in.

ZOZO:

Any of them make it?

HEAD CHEF:

Into the sink!

They hoist up one end of the crate and LOBSTERS spill out. Many make

it into the sink, but some miss and slide across the counter and fall

onto the floor.

The cooks sort the living from the dead.

ZOZO:

Twelve are dead.

PAUL:

How dead?

The cooks smells a dead lobster, shakes his head no.

PAUL (CONT'D)

Dump the bad meat, save the shells, fill

them will ah, a stuffing, something

local.

COOK:

Cassava, and Tipali.

PAUL:

Yes. Call it 'fresh Scottish Lobster in a

cassava and Tipali crush'.

Paul fixes his tie, very pleased, another crisis solved.

INT. BANQUET ROOM/HOTEL MILLE COLLINES. DAY

Paul inspects the tables' fresh flowers, sparkling crystal glasses. He

looks to the bar - Grolsch on ice.

The sound of African drums fills the air.

INT. HOTEL LOBBY. DAY

Paul emerges, as a troupe of African male dancers in ceremonial costume

- Leopard skin dress, ostrich feather head dress, spears and shields

perform a greeting dance for a the American Ambassador and a crowd of

European dignitaries.

The male dancers are joined by a troupe of young female dancers in

similar ceremonial dress. The ceremony comes to a foot stomping finale.

The guests break into LOUD APPLAUSE. Paul flings open double doors to a

reception room and the crowd moves in.

PAUL:

Mr. Ambassador, please come in.

US AMBASSADOR:

Thank you, Paul.

A UN Colonel, OLIVER, middle aged, Canadian,follows the US Ambassador.

The Colonel wear the blue berets and armbands of UN Peacekeepers. (all

UN troops will be distinguished by their bright blue berets, white

helmets and arm bands)

PAUL:

Colonel Oliver, you are very welcome.

The Ambassador shakes the Colonel's hand.

US AMBASSADOR:

Colonel. I'd like you to meet Mr. Colson,

of our Regional Aid Division.

MR. COLSON, crew cut, military build, is obviously CIA.

US AMBASSADOR (CONT'D)

Colonel Oliver is the liason officer for

the U.N. peace keeping forces.

Paul backs away unnoticed...

INT. KITCHEN/HOTEL MILLE COLLINES. DAY

...then marches into the busy kitchen, claps his hands toward a

gathering of waiters.

PAUL:

Please, serve the hors d'ouvres now.

A waiter whispers to him.

WAITER:

General Bizimungu wants to see you.

Paul heads out of the kitchen.

INT. HOTEL BAR. DAY

A luxurious lounge/club called the Kigali Club - an African

Casablanca, complete with animal heads, a statue of a mountain gorilla,

grand piano in the corner. Rwandan Hutu army officers, (distinguished

by their crisp khaki uniforms, in the style of the French army), arms

dealers, government dignitaries, businessmen and reporters mingle

freely. The few tourists stand out.

Paul heads to a table. The center of attention and conversation is

General BIZIMUNGU, 40's, dressed in a crisp, heavily decorated

uniform, a strong figure, relaxed, in control.

GENERAL BIZIMUNGU

Paul, this scotch is exceptional.

PAUL:

It's a single malt, Glenmorangie. I

thought you'd like it. Anything you need,

gentlemen, let me know.

GENERAL BIZIMUNGU

Oh, Paul, talk to the coat check, please.

Paul heads for the lobby. He's intercepted by an zealous young Tutsi

reporter BENEDICT who covers the political scene for the local

independent newspaper.

BENEDICT:

Paul, Paul, a moment please.

PAUL:

Yes, Benedict, what can I do?

BENEDICT:

Can you get me into the Ambassador's

reception?

PAUL:

I'm sorry, it's a private function.

Benedict takes out his reporters notebook.

BENEDICT:

At least tell me who is attending. The

newspaper will be grateful.

Paul laughs.

PAUL:

I will be grateful if you keep my name

out of your newspaper. Wait here and you

will see who has attended as they leave.

INT. HOTEL LOBBY. DAY

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