Wes Anderson - The Grand Budapest Hotel

DEPUTY KOVACS

I beg your pardon?

DMITRI

I thought you’re supposed to be our lawyer.

DEPUTY KOVACS

( hesitates )

Well, in point of fact, I’m the executor of the estate. In this particular situation – I represent the deceased.

DMITRI

Oh, yeah?

DEPUTY KOVACS

Yeah. A provision for my fees was included in the –

DMITRI

Just wrap it up, and don’t make waves. Agreed?

DEPUTY KOVACS

( long pause )

I’m an attorney, Dmitri. I’m obligated to proceed according to the rule of law. Not agreed.

Dmitri’s eyes peer sideways. He says quietly, menacing:

DMITRI

This stinks, sisters.

Deputy Kovacs looks insulted. Dmitri stands up, walks to the door, and exits. The cat squeals. Jopling follows Dmitri out the door. Deputy Kovacs’ mouth falls open. He points, astonished, across the room:

DEPUTY KOVACS

Did he just throw my cat out the window?

The three sisters turn around quickly. They answer simultaneously:

MARGUERITE

I don’t think so.

LAETIZIA

Jopling?

CAROLINA

No. Did he?

Deputy Kovacs waits for the punchline – but it does not come. He dashes to the window and looks down at the sidewalk.

Cut to:

A pedestrian in a bowler hat far below standing over a sprawled speck on the sidewalk. He looks up.

Insert:

Four small hammers tap rapid-fire at four half-scale chisels, chipping away into a cement pot-hole. They are making good progress.

INT. LUDWIG’S CELL. NIGHT

M. Gustave, Pinky, Günther, and Ludwig work diligently by candlelight under a wooden table. Periodically, Wolf scoops up the powdery debris with a soup ladle and throws it aside.

Ludwig looks up suddenly, alerted. He holds up a finger.

LUDWIG

Shh!

M. Gustave, Pinky, and Günther stop tapping at once. They listen attentively. Feet creak along the thick, wooden floor outside the cell – and come to a halt directly in front of the door. Silence.

There is a loud but muffled sneeze.

The feet begin to creak again and fade away until they are inaudible. Ludwig signals to the others. They resume their tapping.

INT. GARRET. NIGHT

An attic bedroom the size of a broom closet. The walls and ceiling are bare planks. Thick beams hold the crooked roof in place. A small skylight window is propped open with a pencil. Zero and Agatha are naked under the rough sheets of her narrow bed. They share a plate of little miniature Courtesans au chocolat. Zero whispers:

ZERO

There’s something I haven’t told you, Agatha.

A look of dread crosses Agatha’s face. She says reluctantly:

AGATHA

OK.

ZERO

We stole a painting. It’s very valuable (maybe five million Klubecks, in fact). I don’t know if anyone’s even noticed it’s missing yet – but if something should happen to me and M. Gustave –

AGATHA

( evenly )

You stole – art?

ZERO

( defensive )

One picture. Anyway: we need to make a plan for your survival. Hide this.

Zero produces a square of tissue-paper the size of a large postage stamp with neat, minuscule handwriting all over it. Agatha squints at it.

ZERO

It’s in code, and you might need a magnifying glass to read it, but it tells you exactly where and how to find ‘Boy with Apple’. Don’t take less than half the retail asking price. Also –

AGATHA

Zero. I’m a baker .

ZERO

( correcting her )

You’re a pastry chef. One of the best in the –

AGATHA

Not a ‘ fence ’ (if that’s the term). I don’t trade in stolen property.

ZERO

( hesitates )

I said it wrong. She willed it to him!

A door bangs open down the hall. In an instant: Zero jumps out of the bed, leaps with both feet at once into his trousers, and shimmies up out of the skylight.

Cut to:

Zero’s point-of-view from the roof. The bedroom door creaks open and Herr Mendl looks in at Agatha. She is now calmly reading her volume of romantic poetry. He grunts:

HERR MENDL

Go to sleep.

AGATHA

Yes, Herr Mendl.

The door closes. Agatha looks up to Zero. He holds up the sliver of paper. She shakes her head and whispers:

AGATHA

No.

ZERO

( pause )

OK, but take it, anyway.

Zero releases the square of tissue-paper. Agatha sits up quickly as it descends, darting and fluttering, and moves her hand around underneath it while she watches trying to estimate where it is going to land.

At the last second, she reaches up and cleanly plucks it out of the air between thumb and finger.

Zero smiles. He runs away, shoeless, past gutters and chimneys, jumping noiselessly from roof to roof, into the night.

INT. OFFICE BUILDING. NIGHT

A bank of elevators in an art-deco lobby. A bell rings, and a pair of doors slides open. Deputy Kovacs emerges and navigates his way through a maze of suds buckets and women on their hands and knees scrubbing the floor. He does not notice:

Jopling sitting in a chair behind a column reading the evening edition of the Trans-Alpine Yodel.

EXT. STREET. NIGHT

The evening sky is bright blue. Crowds hurry in and out of shops and restaurants. Deputy Kovacs crosses the street and stands next to an old lady at a tram stop. He checks his watch. The tram arrives, and the door opens.

Deputy Kovacs assists the old lady, then boards behind her. He takes a seat. He looks out the window. Just as they pull away, he sees Jopling exit the building and climb onto his motorcycle.

Deputy Kovacs frowns.

Jopling kick-starts his engine and follows the tram, close behind, for three blocks. At the next intersection, a policeman blows a whistle, holds up his hand, and makes Jopling wait while a stream of opposing traffic crosses.

The tram rounds a corner and stops. Deputy Kovacs jumps up and ducks out onto the street. He looks left and right. He hurries up a path toward a grand, colossal, domed palace. A sign carved in stone above the door reads: ‘Kunstmuseum Lutz’.

As he goes inside, Deputy Kovacs looks back to see Jopling’s motorcycle pulling slowly to the curb.

INT. MUSEUM. NIGHT

The spacious, soaring entrance hall is dim and deserted. One guard sits alone in a corner writing in a logbook. Deputy Kovacs strides across the room. His clacking feet echo broadly. He detours into an antechamber filled with French still-lives. He pauses.

A second set of footsteps clacks through the lobby behind him.

Deputy Kovacs advances rapidly into the next gallery, past a long mural of an ancient war, and descends a staircase. He pauses again at the bottom.

The second set of footsteps continues through the ante chamber behind him.

Deputy Kovacs turns a corner and rushes between rows of Greek and Roman statues. He cuts through an Egyptian tomb. He skims through an alcove of iron weapons and suits of armor. He pauses once more and listens.

Silence.

Insert:

A pair of high-heeled boots. Two feet quietly slip out of them and tiptoe away.

Cut to:

Deputy Kovacs looking all around, frantic. Across the room, he sees:

A door labeled VERBOTEN.

Deputy Kovacs runs to the door and opens it. He scans the hall behind him. He sneaks inside.

INT. STORAGE ROOM. NIGHT