Wes Anderson - The Grand Budapest Hotel

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.

M. GUSTAVE

( nodding )

Zero: confused, indeed. The plot ‘thickens’, as they say. Why, by the way? Is it a soup metaphor?

ZERO

I don’t know.

Distant tires squeal.

M. Gustave and Zero sit up quickly and peer off down the road. An approaching car accelerates, whining in the darkness. A pair of headlights pops into view from the woods. A large sedan emerges with a roar, zig-zagging onto the farm road. It slides across the gravel and rips to a stop in front of them. A sign next to five stars on the side of the hood reads: HOTEL EXCELSIOR PALACE.

One of the back doors snaps open, and M. Ivan shouts from inside:

M. IVAN

Get in!

M. Gustave and Zero dash out from behind the haystack and sprint to the vehicle.

INT. HOTEL CAR. DAY

The door slams shut, and the chauffeur punches it. They speed back into the hamlet. M. Ivan immediately begins briefing M. Gustave and Zero:

M. IVAN

We found the butler. He’s hiding out in the remote foothills near Gabelmeister’s Peak. Our contact convinced him to meet you midday tomorrow at the observatory on the summit. Tell no one. He’ll explain everything. The train departs in four and a half minutes. Here’s your tickets.

M. Ivan deals out a pair of train tickets to M. Gustave and Zero. M. Gustave gives his a quick study, then mumbles a puzzled objection:

M. GUSTAVE

Third class?

M. IVAN

It was overbooked, but the conductor used to be a sommelier at the old Versailles. He pulled some strings. You’ll need these for the dining car.

M. Ivan produces two, pre-tied neckties. M. Gustave and Zero slip them over their heads and adjust the knots. The chauffeur hits the brakes, and M. Ivan swings the door open again.

M. IVAN

Go!

EXT. TRAIN STATION. NIGHT

M. Gustave and Zero jump out in front of a very small depot and slam the door. M. Ivan says out the window:

M. IVAN

One last thing.

M. Ivan leans down and searches for something on the floor. He sits up and thrusts out a tiny version of a familiar bottle. M. Gustave melts as he realizes: