The Grand Budapest Hotel (14 page)

Long pause. M. Gustave finally starts to lose his composure. His voice rises:

The panel snaps shut. M. Gustave and Zero frown. The organ blasts again outside the confessional, and the church booms with low, eerie, singing voices. M. Gustave tries to jerk the panel open, but it sticks. He bangs on it with his fists.

M. Gustave tries the door. It is locked. Zero peers at the keyhole and says shortly:

M. Gustave hesitates. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his ring of Grand Budapest pass keys. Zero rapidly flips through them, studying each key. He settles on one, inserts it into the keyhole, jiggles it, and twists. The lock clicks.

Cut to:

M. Gustave and Zero jumping out from the confessional booth. Zero darts to the other side and cracks open the other door. He peeks in and sees:

Serge with a bloody garrote-wire strung around his neck. His eyes are wide open, and his tongue sticks out slightly.

Zero grimaces. M. Gustave looks over his shoulder.

M. Gustave presses the door quietly shut again. He and Zero both look frantically around the room.

One lone Monk swings a smoking censer as he recesses quickly down the center aisle while the rest of the congregation stand in their pews singing. He steps outside and ducks away around the corner.

M. Gustave’s and Zero’s eyes light up – then narrow fiercely.

M. Gustave and Zero dash out the front doors. They skid to a stop and scan the area. There is a display next to the church entrance of a wooden saint on a sled being pulled by a
papier-mâché
reindeer. There is no one else in sight.

A door creaks slowly in the wind outside a small shed across the way. A sign above it reads: ‘Ski Locker
(
Clerical Use Only
)’.
A cloak and the still-smoldering censer are strewn in the snow in front of it.

Insert:

A pair of high-heeled boots clamping into a pair of ski-clips.

Insert:

A pair of hands with brass knuckles gripping a pair of ski-poles.

Cut to:

Jopling
(
without cloak, on skis
)
exploding out the door of the shed, making a hard pivot, and launching through the monastery gate, down the steep slope.

M. Gustave and Zero watch in shock.

Zero turns to the display next to them. He leaps over to it, kicks off the saint, flips away the reindeer, and shoves the sled full speed across the churchyard. He shouts:

M. Gustave chases after Zero, and they jump on board just as the sled dips sharply and accelerates like mad down the mountain. Zero hangs onto a short rope knotted to the front. M. Gustave hangs onto Zero.

Jopling, skiing superbly up ahead, looks back. He sees M. Gustave and Zero closing in. He frowns. He makes a quick detour through a gap in the trees and races down a narrow, zig-zag path.

Zero jerks the rope and follows Jopling. The sled bounces and bumps, skids and slides. Zero shouts:

Jopling ramps over the sloped roof of a shuttered café and lands cleanly. M. Gustave and Zero duck and shoot under it, banging between tables, scattering chairs, and rattling off the terrace.

A group of hikers in snow-shoes walks single file across the slope. They hurry to one side in a panic to dodge Jopling, then immediately hurry back to the other to dodge M. Gustave and Zero.

A long, paper banner rustles in the wind. It reads: 
GABELMEISTER’S PEAK, WINTER GAMES
.
Jopling snaps through it and shoots out onto an abandoned bobsled run. He balances nimbly as he rockets down the ice. M. Gustave and Zero burst onto the track behind him, skittering through the corners. They grit their teeth and hang on, terrified.

At the end of the run, Jopling jolts sideways, scratching across the track and showering splinters of ice, then zips up into the air and lands on the snow at the side of a road directly next to his parked motorcycle. He watches as:

M. Gustave and Zero come flying down the bobsled run at breakneck speed, slam into a dense bank at the bottom, and soar into a high arc. The sled flips and twirls, then hits the ground and splits into three pieces. Zero bashes headfirst into the deep snow and disappears – except
for his feet and ankles sticking out into the air, motionless. M. Gustave smacks onto the ice and slides, spinning, off the edge of a cliff. Silence.

Jopling takes a drink from his flask. He unclips his skis. He walks slowly past Zero’s frozen legs and approaches the precipice.

M. Gustave is clutching onto a knob of jagged ice while his feet dangle above a rocky chasm a thousand feet deep. He stares up at Jopling, frightened but furious. He says quietly:

Zero’s feet are frozen in place. A distant wolf howls. Pause.

Jopling lifts his foot and stomps his boot down with all his might. The ice crackles and fissures. M. Gustave sighs miserably. He swallows. Jopling stomps again. The ice around M. Gustave begins to crumble. As Jopling continues to stomp, over and over, M. Gustave sadly recites:

There is a powerful thump, and Jopling flies headfirst, screaming, off the cliff over M. Gustave’s head. Zero, in the midst of a diving shove, lands on his face and nearly goes over the edge himself. He is covered with snow. M. Gustave shouts, ecstatic:

Far, far below: Jopling’s arms and legs flail as he disappears down into the deepest reaches of the chasm. M. Gustave says proudly in elation:

M. Gustave looks greatly relieved as he continues to hang precariously and his fingers stiffen toward frost bite. Zero gasps for an instant, then thrusts his arms down, stretching, to seize M. Gustave by the wrists.

Cut to:

A binocular shot of Zero dragging M. Gustave back up onto solid ground. They dust the snow off their bodies and catch their breath.

Henckels’ voice shouts over a megaphone:

M. Gustave and Zero look across the hillside to the next slope. A hundred advancing troops hurry toward them, descending swiftly. The tiny figure of Henckels at the head of the squadron continues forcefully:

M. Gustave turns to Zero. Zero says, unsure:

M. Gustave looks lost and tired. Zero stares at him. He nods. He says calmly:

M. Gustave’s face lightens. He is moved and deeply impressed.

M. Gustave and Zero stare solemnly into space for about five seconds. Bloodhounds bark in the far distance. Zero says quietly:

M. Gustave nods suddenly. He and Zero break into a sprint, race over to the motorcycle, and jump on. Zero kick-starts the engine, and M. Gustave, on the rear fender, hangs on tightly as they rumble away down the icy road.

Cut to:

Henckels watching from the distance. He lowers his binoculars. He looks worried.

Cut to:

M. Gustave and Zero winding along the highway. Zero yells back over his shoulder:

Zero nods, pleased.

Title:

Montage:

Various white-gloved hands in action: one rings a bell on the concierge desk with a quick tap. Another slips an envelope into a message box. Another picks up a room key off a hook. Another forcefully shakes a cocktail-shaker full of ice.