The Grand Budapest Hotel Page #3

A tall, blond, forty-year-old concierge stands patientlyalone surveying the room. He is tranquil, perfectlycomposed, waiting. He wears the faintest hint ofmascara. He is M. Gustave.

M. Gustave crosses swiftly to the door and opens it justas a contingent of hotel staff arrives together fromdown the corridor. There are two waiters, two footmen,

two bellboys, and an Arab teenager, small, cheerful, andalert, who appears to be some kind of page. He is Zero.

One of the waiters carries a table, and one carries abreakfast 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?

10.

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.

M. GUSTAVE

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.

M. GUSTAVE

Good morning, Madame. Your breakfast isserved. The sitting room is a battlefieldat the moment, but rest assured, you willbe en route in precisely -(

checks his watch)

-- eleven minutes. You look heavenly.

Pray be seated.

An immaculately-dressed, eighty-year-old woman emergesfrom the bedroom, nimble, brisk -- and highly agitated.

She is Madame D. She is followed by two young women, alady’s maid and a private secretary, who quickly jointhe hubbub fidgeting with trunks and rushing to-and-fropreparing for their departure.

M. Gustave waits for Madame D. to sit, then joins her;

at which point, she immediately leans across to him andsays 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 eversee each other.

M. GUSTAVE

Why on earth would that be the case?

11.

MADAME D.

I can’t put it into words -- but I feel

it.

M. GUSTAVE

Well, for goodness’ sake, there’s noreason 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 forclergy.

MADAME D.

Come with me.

M. Gustave hesitates slightly. He gestures to thetickets and speculates in disbelief:

M. GUSTAVE

To Lutz?

MADAME D.

(desperately)

Please.

M. GUSTAVE

(wildly frustrated)

How can I? With this enormous rock-pilearound 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 driesher eyes. The old woman takes a deep breath.

MADAME D.

Let us pray.

Madame D. closes her eyes, lowers her chin, and crossesherself. M. Gustave reluctantly follows suit. Silence.

Madame D. snaps one eye back open suddenly:

12.

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 ourcherished guest as she travels throughsnow and sleet and under shadow of

darkness. Guide her in the night to herfinal destination. Indeed, whateverluxury she may require, be it small ormore 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 saysin an affectionate, reassuring, patronizing voice:

M. GUSTAVE

You’ve nothing to fear. You’re alwaysanxious before you travel. I admit youappear to be suffering a more acuteattack on this occasion, but, truly andhonestly -(

suddenly taken aback)

Dear God. What’ve you done to yourfingernails?

Madame D. wears an understated, pale-pink polish. Shestiffens.

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?

13.

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 inone 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 withMadame D. (now wearing gloves) on a velvet-upholsteredbench. She clutches his arm and looks deeply concerned.

Zero stands at attention with the jewel case alongside aveteran 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 ofgrey, medieval pine, I came upon a tomb,

rain-slick’d, rubbed-cool, ethereal; itsinscription long-vanished, yet stillwithin its melancholy fissures --”

Madame D. sighs deeply yet does seem to calm somewhat asshe accepts the inevitability of these stanzas.

EXT. FRONT ENTRANCE. DAY

The trunks are piled on the roof of a long, silverlimousine. More suitcases stick out of the rumble seat

(along with the two bellboys). Madame D. and hersecretary sit inside the car. M. Gustave reaches in thewindow and tightens a fur stole around Madame D’sshoulders.

14.

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 handbagand 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 hisshoulder tightly. She whispers, sincere and impassioned,

what she fears will be their last communication:

MADAME D.

I love you.

M. GUSTAVE

(as if to a child)

I love you.

(barking at the driver)

Abfahren!

The driver hits the gas. M. Gustave watches as thevehicle races away, spitting ice-chips off the packedsnow. Zero lingers outside the front door. M. Gustavesays with discreet pride as he continues to stare offdown the road into the village of Nebelsbad:

M. GUSTAVE

It’s quite a thing winning the loyalty ofa woman like that for nineteen

consecutive seasons.

Zero hesitates -- uncertain that he is, in fact, beingaddressed. He ventures:

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