M. Gustave: Rudeness is merely an expression of fear. People fear they won't get what they want. The most dreadful and unattractive person only needs to be loved, and they will open up like a flower.

M. Gustave: You see, there are still faint glimmers of civilization left in this barbaric slaughterhouse that was once known as humanity. Indeed that's what we provide in our own modest, humble, insignificant... oh, fuck it.

M. Gustave: Keep your hands off my lobby boy!

Mr. Moustafa: [on M.Gustave] There are still faint glimmers of civilization left in this barbaric slaughterhouse that was once known as humanity... He was one of them. What more is there to say?

M. Gustave: [to Mme. Celine's corpse] You're looking so well, darling, you really are... they've done a marvelous job. I don't know what sort of cream they've put on you down at the morgue, but... I want some.

Dmitri: If I learn you ever once laid a finger on my mother's body, living or dead, I swear to God, I'll cut your throat! You hear me?

M. Gustave: I thought I was supposed to be a fucking faggot.

Dmitri: You are, but you're bisexual.

Henckels: By order of the commissioner of police, Zubrowka Province, I hereby place you under arrest for the murder of Madame Celine Villenueve Desgoffe-und-Taxis.

M. Gustave: I knew there was something fishy. We never got the cause of death. She's been murdered, and you think I did it.

[runs away]

Monk: [At the observatory] Are you Monsieur Gustave of the Grand Budapest Hotel in Nebelsbad?

M. Gustave: Uh-huh.

Monk: Get on the next cable car.

Monk: [On the cable car] Are you Monsieur Gustave of the Grand Budapest Hotel in Nebelsbad?

M. Gustave: Uh-huh.

Monk: Switch with me.

Monk: [At the monastery] Are you Monsieur Gustave of the Grand Budapest Hotel in Nebelsbad?

M. Gustave: Uh-huh.

Monk: [Hands them robes] Put these on and sing.

Monk: [Inside the monastery] Psst. Are you Monsieur Gustave of the Grand B...

M. Gustave: Yes, dammit!

Monk: Confess.

M. Gustave: I'm innocent!

Monk: No, no.

[indicates confession booth]

M. Gustave: I must say, I find that girl utterly delightful. Flat as a board, enormous birthmark the shape of Mexico over half her face, sweating for hours on end in that sweltering kitchen, while Mendl, genius though he is, looms over her like a hulking gorilla. Yet without question, without fail, always and invariably, she's exceedingly lovely.

Zero: What happened?

M. Gustave: What happened, my dear Zero, is I beat the living shit out of a sniveling little runt called Pinky Bandinski, who had the gall to question my virility. Because, if there's one thing we've learned from penny dreadfuls, it's that when you find yourself in a place like this, you must never be a candy ass; you've got to prove yourself from day one. You've got to win their respect. You should take a long look at HIS ugly mug this morning.

[Takes a sip of water and laughs]

M. Gustave: He's actually become a dear friend.

Young Writer: Is it simply your last connection to that banished world - his world, if you will?

Mr. Moustafa: His world? No, I don't think so. You see, we shared a vocation, it wouldn't have been necessary. No, the hotel I keep for Agatha. We were happy here, for a little while.

Mr. Moustafa: To be frank, I think his world had vanished long before he ever entered it. But I will say, he certainly sustained the illusion with a marvelous grace.

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

Zero: I don't know.

Pinky: Me and the boys talked it over. We think you're a really straight fellow.

M. Gustave: Well, I've never been accused of that before, but I appreciate the sentiment.

Deputy Kovacs: Did he just throw my cat out of the window?

Dmitri: [about M. Gustave] This criminal has plagued my family for nearly 20 years. He's a ruthless adventurer and a con artist who preys on mentally feeble, sick old ladies! And he probably fucks them, too!

M. Gustave: I go to bed with all my friends.

[Dmitri punches M. Gustave, Zero punches Dmitri, Jopling punches Zero]

M. Gustave: [Of Mme. Celine] She was dynamite in the sack, by the way.

Zero: ...She was 84, Monsieur Gustave.

M. Gustave: Mmm, I've had older. When you're young, it's all filet steak, but as the years go by, you have to move on to the cheap cuts. Which is fine with me, because I like those. More flavorful, or so they say.

M. Gustave: Well, what does it say? Where is it? What's it all about, damn it? Don't keep us in suspense, Serge, this has been a complete fucking nightmare! Just tell us what the fuck is going on!

M. Gustave: If this do be the end, "Farewell!" cried the wounded piper-boy...

[Jopling stomps]

M. Gustave: ...whilst the muskets cracked, and the yeomen roared "Hurrah", and the ramparts fell...

[Jopling stomps]

M. Gustave: "Methinks me breathes me last, me fears!" said he...

[Zero pushes Jopling from behind; Jopling falls screaming over M. Gustave's head]

M. Gustave: Holy shit, you got him!

M. Gustave: It's quite a thing, winning the loyalty of a woman like that for nineteen consecutive seasons.

Zero: Um... yes, sir.

M. Gustave: She's very fond of me, you know.

Zero: Yes, sir.

M. Gustave: I've never seen her like that before.

Zero: No, sir.

M. Gustave: She was shaking like a shitting dog.

Zero: ...Truly.

M. Gustave: Who's got The Throat-Slitter?

M. Gustave: [Regarding "Boy with Apple"] I'll never part with it. It reminded her of me; it will remind me of her, always. I'll die with this picture above my bed. See the resemblance?

Zero: Oh... oh, yes.

M. Gustave: [Just minutes later] Actually, we should sell it.

Henckels: Who's shooting who?

Dmitri: That's Gustave H., the escaped murderer and art thief! I've got him cornered!

M. Gustave: That's Dmitri Desgoffe und Taxis! He's responsible for the killing of Deputy Kovacs, Serge X and his club-footed sister, plus his own mother!

[pause]

Henckels: Nobody move; everybody's under arrest.

M. Gustave: What is a lobby boy? A lobby boy is completely invisible, yet always in sight. A lobby boy remembers what people hate. A lobby boy anticipates the client's needs before the needs are needed. A lobby boy is, above all, discreet to a fault. Our guests know that their deepest secrets, some of which are frankly rather unseemly, will go with us to our graves. So keep your mouth shut, Zero.

M. Gustave: If I die first, and I almost certainly will, you will be my sole heir. There's not much in the kitty, except a set of ivory-backed hairbrushes and my library of romantic poetry, but when the time comes, these will be yours. Along with whatever we haven't already spent on whores and whiskey.

[first lines]

Author: It is an extremely common mistake. People think the writer's imagination is always at work, that he's constantly inventing an endless supply of incidents and episodes; that he simply dreams up his stories out of thin air. In point of fact, the opposite is true. Once the public knows you're a writer, they bring the characters and events to you. And as long as you maintain your ability to look, and to carefully listen, these stories will continue to...

Author's Grandson: [shooting at him with a pellet gun]

Author: Stop it! Stop it! Don't! Don't do it!... Uh, will continue to seek you out, uh, over your lifetime. To him, who has often told the tales of others, many tales will be told.

Author's Grandson: Sorry.

Author: It's all right. The incidents that follow were described to me exactly as I present them here, and in a wholly unexpected way.

M. Gustave: [sees soldiers enter the hotel] The beginning of the end of the end of the beginning has begun. A sad finale played off-key on a broken-down saloon piano in the outskirts of a forgotten ghost town. I'd rather not bear witness to such blasphemy.

Zero: Me neither.

M. Gustave: The Grand Budapest has become a troops' barracks. I shall never cross its threshold again in my lifetime.

Zero: Me neither.

M. Gustave: Never again shall I...

[Zero spots Agatha]

Zero: Actually I think we might be going in there right now after all!

M. Gustave: Why do you want to be a lobby boy?

Zero: Well, who wouldn't - at the Grand Budapest, sir. It's an institution.

Serge X.: Forgive me, Monsieur Gustave, I never meant to betray you. They threatened my life and now they've murdered my only family.

M. Gustave: No! Who'd they kill this time?

Serge X.: My dear sister.

M. Gustave: The girl with the club foot?

Serge X.: Yes.

M. Gustave: Those fuckers!

[after having escaped from Checkpoint 19]

M. Gustave: How's our darling Agatha?

Zero: [Reciting] "'Twas first light, when I saw her face upon the heath, and hence did I return, day by day, entranced, though vinegar did brine my heart, never w..."

M. Gustave: Very good! I'm going to stop you there because the alarm has sounded, but remember where we left off, because I insist you finish later!

M. Gustave: [Gustave and Zero are examining "Boy With Apple" in Dmitri's study] This is van Hoytl's exquisite portrayal of a beautiful boy on the cusp of manhood. Blond, smooth skin as white as that milk, of impeccable provenance. One of the last in private hands, and unquestionably the best. It's a masterpiece. The rest of this shit is worthless junk.

M. Gustave: I'm not angry with Serge; you can't blame someone for their basic lack of moral fiber. He's a frightened little yellow-bellied coward. It's not his fault, is it?

Zero: I don't know, it depends.

M. Gustave: Well, you can say that about most anything, "it depends". Of course it depends.

Zero: Of course it depends, of course it depends.

M. Gustave: Yes, I suppose you're right; of course it depends. However, that doesn't mean I'm not going to throttle the little swamp rat.

M. Gustave: [Upon seeing Ludwig's map of Checkpoint 19] Who drew this?

Ludwig: What do you mean, "who drew this"? I did.

M. Gustave: Very good; you've got a wonderful line, Ludwig! This shows great artistic promise.

M. Gustave: You can't arrest him just because he's a bloody immigrant, he hasn't done anything wrong!

M. Gustave: How does one come by front row aisle seats for a first night at the Opera Toscana with one day's notice? How does one arrange a private viewing of the tapestry collection at the Royal Saxon Gallery? How does one secure a corner table at Chez Dominique on a Thursday?

[to Ivan, on the telephone]

M. Gustave: 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... Well, through a sewer, as it happens... Exactly! Listen, Ivan, I'm sorry to cut you off, but we're in a bit of a bind. This is an official request. I'm formally calling on the special services of...

[Title card: THE SOCIETY OF THE CROSSED KEYS]

[Zero has just shown M. Gustave the newspaper article announcing Mme. Celine's death]

M. Gustave: Dear God!

Zero: I'm terribly sorry, sir.

M. Gustave: We must go to her.

Zero: We must?

M. Gustave: Tout de suite. She needs me, and I need you, to help me with my bags and so on.

[to a voice within his suite]

M. Gustave: Attendez-moi, darling.

[to Zero]

M. Gustave: How fast can you pack?

Zero: Five minutes.

M. Gustave: Do it. And bring a bottle of the Pouilly-Jouvet '26, in an ice bucket, with two glasses, so we don't have to drink the cat piss they serve on the dining car.

Serge X.: There's more.

M. Gustave: Okay...

Serge X.: To the story.

M. Gustave: I get it, go on.

Serge X.: I was the official witness in Madame D's presence to the creation of a second will to be executed only in the event of her death by murder.

M. Gustave: A second will?

Serge X.: Right.

M. Gustave: In case she got bumped off?

Serge X.: Right.

M. Gustave: Uh-huh...

Serge X.: But they destroyed it.

M. Gustave: Oh dear.

Serge X.: However...

M. Gustave: Uh-huh...

Serge X.: I pulled a copy.

M. Gustave: A second copy of the second will?

Serge X.: Right.

M. Gustave: Uh-huh...

Madame D.: Come with me.

M. Gustave: To... fucking Lutz?

Madame D.: Please!

M. Gustave: Give me your hand. You've nothing to fear. You're always anxious before you travel. I admit you appear to be suffering a more acute attack on this occasion, but truly and honestly... oh, dear God, what have you done to your fingernails?

Madame D.: I beg your pardon?

M. Gustave: This diabolical varnish; the color is completely wrong!

Madame D.: Oh really? Don't you like it?

M. Gustave: It's not that I don't like it; I am physically repulsed.

M. Gustave: [interviewing will walking] Experience?

Zero: Hotel Kinsky, Kitchen Boy, 6 months. Hotel Berlitz, Mop and Broom Boy, 3 months. Before that I was a Skillet Scrubber.

M. Gustave: Experience, zero.

[to various workers]

M. Gustave: Straighten that cap. Pleasure's all mine. These are not acceptable.

[back to Zero]

M. Gustave: Education?

Zero: I studied reading *and* spelling. I started my primary school. I almost finished...

M. Gustave: Education, zero.Good morning Cicero. Call the plumber. Family?

Zero: [hesitates] Zero.

Mr. Moustafa: When the destiny of a great fortune is at stake, men's greed spreads like a poison in the bloodstream. Uncles, nephews, cousins, in-laws of increasingly tenuous connection. The old woman's distant relations had come foraging out of the woodwork.

M. Gustave: I was perhaps for a time considered the best lobby boy we ever had at the Grand Budapest. I think I can say that. This one finally surpassed me. Although I must say, I am an exceptional teacher.

M. Gustave: You're the first of the official death squads to whom we've been formally introduced. How do you do?

M. Gustave: [Following Mme. Celine's death] All of Lutz will be dressed in black... except her own ghastly, deceitful children, whom she loathed and couldn't bear to kiss hello. They'll be dancing like gypsies.

Zero: [Reading a letter from M. Gustave] "My dear and trusted colleagues..."

M. Gustave: [narrates] I miss you deeply as I write from the confines of my regrettable and preposterous incarceration. Until I walk amongst you again as a free man, the Grand Budapest remains in your hands, as does its impeccable reputation. Keep it spotless, and glorify it. Take extra-special care of every little bitty bit of it as if I were watching over you like a hawk with a horse-whip in its talons, because I am. Should I discover a lapse of any variety during my absence, I promise swift and merciless justice will descend upon you. A great and noble house has been placed under your protection. Tell Zero if you see any funny business.

Zero: [finishing the letter] "Your devoted Monsieur Gustave."

M. Gustave: Excuse me. Have you seen a pastry girl with a package under her arm in the last minute and a half?

Otto: Yep. She just got on the elevator with Mr. Desgoffe und Taxis.

M. Gustave: Thank you.

Zero: I'm sorry, who are you?

Otto: Otto, sir. The new lobby boy?

Zero: Well, you haven't been trained properly, Otto. A lobby boy never provides information of that kind. You're a stone wall. Understood?

Zero: Do you have an alibi?

M. Gustave: Of course. But she's married to the Duke of Westphalia. I can't allow her name to get mixed up in all this monkey business.

Zero: Monsieur Gustave, your life may be at stake.

M. Gustave: I know. The bitch legged it! She's already on board the Queen Nasstasja, halfway to Dutch Tanganyika.

M. Gustave: May I offer any of you inmates a plate of mush?

Dmitri: You're not getting Boy with Apple, you goddamn little fruit!

M. Gustave: How's that supposed to make me feel?

M. Gustave: I give you my word, if you lay a finger on this man, I'll see you dishonorably discharged, locked up in the stockade, and hanged by sundown.

Jopling: I've never trusted that butler. He's too honest.

Dmitri: [discovering the painting's disappearance] What's the meaning of this shit?

Laetizia: Boy with Apple? I thought you'd hidden it.

Marguerite: Why are you only noticing now?

Carolina: I assumed you took it. I assumed it went to the tax appraiser.

Dmitri: ...Are you fucking kidding me?

Agatha: [about M.Gustave and Zero] Whence came these two radiant celestial brothers, united for an instant, as they crossed the upper stratosphere of our starry window, one from the east, and one from the west.

M. Gustave: VERY good.

M. Gustave: There's really no point in doing anything in life because it's all over in the blink of an eye, and the next thing you know, rigor mortis sets in.

Mr. Moustafa: [Recounting his memories of M. Gustave at the Budapest Hotel] I began to realize that many of the hotel's most valued and distinguished guests came for him. It seemed to be an essential part of his duties... But I believe it was also his pleasure. The requirements were always the same. They had to be rich, old, insecure, vain, superficial, blonde, needy.

Young Writer: Why blonde?

Mr. Moustafa: Because they all were.

Young Writer: At this point in the story, the old man fell silent and pushed away his saddle of lamb. His eyes went blank as two stones. I could see he was in distress. "Are you ill, Mr. Mustafa?" I finally asked.

Mr. Moustafa: Oh dear me, no.

Young Writer: He said.

Mr. Moustafa: It's only that I don't know how to proceed.

Young Writer: He was crying!

Mr. Moustafa: You see, I never speak of Agatha, because even at the thought of her name I'm unable to control my emotions.

[wipes the tears]

Mr. Moustafa: Well, I suppose there's no way around it. You see, she saved us.

M. Gustave: Give me a few squirts of L'air de Panache, please, will you?

[Zero doesn't move]

M. Gustave: Can I not get A squirt, even?

Zero: I forgot the L'air de Panache.

M. Gustave: Honestly, you forgot the L'air de Panache? I don't believe it. I mean, how could you? I've been in jail, Zero! Do you understand how humiliating this is? I smell! That's just marvelous, isn't it? I suppose this is to be expected back in... Where do you come from again?

Zero: Aq-Salim-al-Jabat.

M. Gustave: Precisely. I suppose this is to be expected back in Aq-Salim-al-Jabat, where one's prized possessions are a stack of filthy carpets and a starving goat, and one sleeps behind a tent flap and survives on wild dates and scarabs. But it's not how I trained you! What on God's earth possessed you to leave the homeland where you obviously belong and travel unspeakable distances to become a penniless immigrant in a refined, highly-cultivated society that, quite frankly, could've gotten along very well without you?

Zero: The war.

M. Gustave: ...Say again?

Zero: Well, you see, my father was murdered and the rest of my family were executed by firing squad. Our village was burned to the ground and those who managed to survive were forced to flee. I left because of the war.

M. Gustave: I see. So you're, actually, really more of a refugee, in that sense?

Zero: Truly.

M. Gustave: [chagrined] Well, I suppose I'd better take back everything I just said. What a bloody idiot I am. Pathetic fool. Goddamn, selfish bastard. This is disgraceful, and it's beneath the standards of the Grand Budapest. I apologize on behalf of the hotel.

Zero: It's not your fault, Monsieur Gustave. You were just upset I forgot the perfume.

M. Gustave: Don't make excuses for me! I owe you my life. You are my dear friend and protégé and I'm very proud of you. You must know that! I'm so sorry, Zero.

Zero: We're brothers.

[they hug]

Mr. Moustafa: [Recounting his memories of M. Gustave at the Budapest Hotel] He was, by the way, the most liberally perfumed man I had ever encountered. The scent announced his approach from a great distance and lingered for many minutes after he was gone.

M. Gustave: Why are we stopping at a Barley Field?

[Title Card: 19th October, The Closing of the Frontier]

M. Gustave: [the train comes to a stop, the Doors to the cabin room swing open, soldiers stand at the doorway]

M. Gustave: Well, Hello there, chaps.

Franz: Documents, please.

M. Gustave: With pleasure.

[Hands the officer his papers]

M. Gustave: It's not a very flattering portrait, I'm afraid, I was once considered a great beauty.

[Notices the soldier's name tag, it reads: "Cpl F. Müller."]

M. Gustave: What's the F. Stand for, Fritz? Franz?

Franz: Franz.

M. Gustave: [Cheerfully] I knew it!

[Zero hands the soldier his papers]

M. Gustave: He's making a funny face.

M. Gustave: [to the soldier] That's a Migatory Visa with stage three worker status, Franz darling, he's with me.

Franz: [Hesitates, looks at Zero] Come outside, please.

M. Gustave: Now wait a minute, sit down, Zero. His papers are in order, I crossed referenced them myself with The Bureau of Labor and Servitude. You can't arrest him simply because he's a bloody immigrant, he hasn't done anything wrong!

[a moment of disbelief, the soldier looks, then grabs Zero by the arm and rises him from his seat. A light struggle breaks out, Gustave, angered, yells at them]

M. Gustave: Stop it! Stop, damn you!

Zero: Never mind, Mousier Gustave! Let them proceed!

M. Gustave: Ow, that hurts!

[Zero and Gustave are roughly shoved against the wall]

M. Gustave: You filthy, godamn, pock-marked, fascist assholes! Take your hands off my lobby boy!

[a whistle blows, and the door to the wagon opens. Everyone stops moving. Inspector A.J. Henckels walks into the room, he stands at the doorway]

Henckels: What's the problem?

M. Gustave: This is outrageous! The young man works for me at the Grand Budapest Hotel in Nebelsbad.

Henckels: Mousier Gustave?

[pauses]

Henckels: My name is Henckels, I'm the son of Dr. and Mrs. Wolfgang Henckels Bergersdörfer. Do you remember me?

M. Gustave: [pointing at an armful of flowers] These are NOT acceptable.

Hotel Employee: [bearing flowers] I fully agree.

Ludwig: Checkpoint 19 ain't no two-bit hoosegow.

[Gustave sees soldiers enter the Hotel]

M. Gustave: The beginning of the end of the end of the beginning has begun. A sad finale played off-key on a broken-down saloon piano in the outskirts of a forgotten ghost town. I'd rather not bear witness to such blasphemy.

Zero: Me neither.

M. Gustave: The Grand Budapest has become a troops' barracks. I shall never cross its threshold again in my lifetime.

Zero: Me neither.

M. Gustave: Never again shall I...

[spots Agatha]

M. Gustave: Actually, I think we might be going in there right now, after all.

[last lines]

Young Writer: A week later, I sailed for a cure in South America, and began a long, wandering journey abroad. I did not return to Europe for many years. It was an enchanting old ruin...

Author: ...But I never managed to see it again.

Mr. Moustafa: I admire your work.

Young Writer: I beg your pardon?

Mr. Moustafa: I said, I know and admire your wonderful work.

Young Writer: Thank you most kindly, sir.

Mr. Moustafa: Did M. Jean have a word or two to share with you about the aged proprietor of this establishment?

Young Writer: I must confess, sir, I did, myself, inquire about you.

Mr. Moustafa: He's perfectly capable, of course, M. Jean, but we can't claim he's a first or, in earnest, even second-rate concierge. But there it is. Times have changed.

Young Writer: The thermal baths are very beautiful.

Mr. Moustafa: They were, in their first condition. It couldn't be maintained, of course. Too decadent for current tastes, but I love it all, just the same. This enchanting, old ruin.

Young Writer: How did you come to buy it, if I may ask? The Grand Budapest.

Mr. Moustafa: I didn't.

Mr. Moustafa: If you're not merely being polite, and you must tell me if that's the case, but if it genuinely does interest you: may I invite you to dine with me tonight, and it will be my pleasure and, indeed, my privilege to tell you, "my" story. Such as it is.