Inglourious Basterds

by Quentin Tarantino

  Snaps her fingers.

  INT—SMALL FILM-PROCESSING LAB—LATE NIGHT

  A old mom-and-pop film processing lab circa the thirties. Late late at night.

  GASPAR, the fatherly figure of all the experimental French filmmakers in the decade before German rule, takes a SAVAGE BEATING at the hands of his friend Marcel.

  Shosanna watches, pitiless.

  SHOSANNA

  Bring that fucker over here! Put his head down on that table.

  Marcel holds Gaspar’s arm behind him as he forces his head flat against the tabletop.

  Shosanna brings a HATCHET DOWN DEEP into the table, just by his face.

  SHOSANNA

  You either do what the fuck we tell you to, or I’ll bury this ax in your collaborating skull.

  GASPAR

  I’m not a collaborator!

  SHOSANNA

  Then prove it! Or does your manhood go no deeper than standing to piss? Marcel, do his wife and children know you?

  MARCEL

  Oui.

  SHOSANNA

  Then after we kill this dog for Germans, we’ll go and silence them.

  She lifts up the hatchet, raises it high…

  SHOSANNA

  Prepare to die, collaborator fucker!

  CUT TO

  GASPAR

  hands the couple a SMALL SILVER CAN OF 35MM FILM, Outside the shop window, it’s morning.

  INT—PROJECTION ROOM

  WE SEE the five heavy silver film cans of Fredrick Zoller’s life story, “Nation’s Pride” (clearly marked), on the floor of the projection booth.

  The can for REEL 4 is open and empty.

  Shosanna’s at the editing bench. REEL 4 is up on the rewinds…

  Shosanna SPLICES her and Marcel’s footage into REEL 4 of Fredrick’s film, rewinds it, puts it back in the can, and puts a piece of RED TAPE on the REEL 4 CAN.

  She walks out of the booth, turning off the lights behind her, PLUNGING THE SCREEN INTO DARKNESS.

  BLACK FRAME

  FROM BLACK DISSOLVE TO

  EXT—LA LOUISIANE (TAVERN)—NIGHT

  We see a small basement tavern with an old rustic sign out front that reads “La Louisiane.”

  A SUBTITLE APPEARS:

  “The village of Nadine, France”

  TWO SHOT LT. HICOX and LT. ALDO RAINE

  Aldo is dressed like a French civilian. Hicox is dressed in a German gray S.S. captain’s uniform. They look out of a window, in an apartment, in the village of Nadine, overlooking the tavern.

  LT. ALDO

  You didn’t say the goddamn rendezvous was in a fuckin’ basement.

  LT. HICOX

  I didn’t know.

  LT. ALDO

  You said it was in a tavern?

  LT. HICOX

  It is a tavern.

  LT. ALDO

  Yeah, in a basement. You know, fightin’ in a basement offers a lot of difficulties, number one being you’re fighting in a basement.

  Wilhelm Wicki joins the SHOT, dressed in a German S.S. lieutenant’s uniform.

  WICKI

  What if we go in there and she’s not even there?

  LT. HICOX

  We wait. Don’t worry. She’s a British spy. She’ll make the rendezvous.

  WE SEE that the other Basterds, dressed in French civilian clothes, are in the room as well. They are Donowitz, Hirschberg, and Utivich. And in the back of the room, dressed in the gray uniform of an S.S. lieutenant, Hugo Stiglitz sits off by himself, sharpening his S.S. DAGGER on his leather belt, looped around his boot. Anybody not in the scene from the Basterd’s opening chapter is dead.

  Lt. Hicox watches Stiglitz off by himself on the other side of the room SHARPENING his dagger menacingly.

  Stiglitz is fucking weird…

  Lt. Hicox approaches Stiglitz…

  LT. HICOX

  Stiglitz, right?

  STIGLITZ

  That’s right, sir.

  He continues bringing the blade’s edge up, then down on the leather strap.

  LT. HICOX

  I hear you’re pretty good with that?

  Meaning the blade.

  Stiglitz doesn’t answer.

  LT. HICOX

  You know, we’re not looking for trouble right now. We’re simply making contact with our agent. Should be uneventful. However, on the off chance I’m wrong and things prove eventful, I need to know we can all remain calm.

  The renegade Gerry sergeant stops his blade’s progress and looks up at the limey lieutenant.

  STIGLITZ

  I don’t look calm to you?

  LT. HICOX

  Well, now you put it like that, I guess you do.

  He turns his attention back to his blade.

  Hicox moves over to Aldo and asks him privately:

  LT. HICOX

  This Gerry of yours, Stiglitz? Not exactly the loquacious type, is he?

  Aldo just looks at him.

  LT. ALDO

  Is that the kinda man you need, the loquacious type?

  LT. HICOX

  Fair point, Lieutenant.

  LT. ALDO

  So y’all git in trouble in there, what are we supposed to do? Make bets on how it all comes out?

  LT. HICOX

  If we get into trouble, we can handle it. But if trouble does happen, we need you to make damn sure no Germans or French, for that matter—escape from that basement.

  If Fräulein von Hammersmark’s cover is compromised, the mission is kaput.

  Donny chimes in:

  SGT. DONOWITZ

  Speaking of Fräulein von Hammersmark, whose idea was it for the death trap rendezvous?

  LT. HICOX

  She chose the spot.

  SGT. DONOWITZ

  Well, isn’t that just dandy?

  LT. HICOX

  Look, she’s not a military strategist. She’s just an actress.

  LT. ALDO

  Ya don’t got to be Stonewall Jackson to know you don’t want to fight in a basement.

  LT. HICOX

  She wasn’t picking a place to fight. She was picking a place isolated and without Germans.

  PFC. HIRSCHBERG

  Lieutenant, I hate to be contrary, but I got me a Nazi pissin’ on Louisiana two o’clock.

  They move to the window, and sure enough, ONE LONE NAZI PRIVATE relieves himself against the side wall.

  Lt. Hicox, this was definitely not the plan.

  LT. HICOX

  Shit.

  Sgt. Donowitz chides him:

  SGT. DONOWITZ

  So what do you think your Fräulein von Hammer—

  LT. HICOX

  —Obviously, I don’t know, Sergeant.

  The British officer watches the German soldier, who’s not supposed to be there. When Hugo Stiglitz joins him at the window, Stiglitz looks down at the urinating Nazi, S.S. dagger in hand.

  STIGLITZ

  If we’re going, let’s go.

  He sheaths the dagger.

  EXT—LA LOUISIANE (BASEMENT TAVERN)—NIGHT

  The GERMAN PISSING PRIVATE sloppily finishes his task. Cramming his noodle back in his pants, he descends the stairs that lead him back into the basement tavern. We follow him…

  INT—LA LOUISIANE (BASEMENT TAVERN)—NIGHT

  Inside the basement tavern La Louisiane. It has a very low-hanging basement ceiling. A old-looking wood bar off to the right. And the only other space in the little tavern is taken up by two large (at least in here) tables, which take up both halves of the room. And despite rumors to the contrary, one of the two tables is completely filled with drunken, celebrating Nazi enlisted men, of which our urinating friend is one of five.

  FIVE NAZIS

  ONE GERMAN MASTER SERGEANT, ONE FEMALE GERMAN SERGEANT (a powerfully built, stocky type), and THREE MALE GERMAN SOLDIERS.

  The five Nazis are sitting around the table, drinking, and playing a very fun game with none other than the Fräulein of the hour, UFA diva BRIDGET VON HAMMERSMARK, dressed to th
e nines in a chic, forties-style woman’s suit, complete with fedora. The game they’re playing consists of each player having a card with the name of a famous person, real or imaginary, stuck to their forehead. The player doesn’t know what name is on their forehead. So they ask the others questions to figure out who they are.

  The five Germans’ five cards read: MASTER SGT #1: (POLA NEGRI); FEMALE SGT #2: (BEETHOVEN); GERMAN PRIVATE #3: (MATA HARI); GERMAN PRIVATE #4: (EDGAR WALLACE); GERMAN PRIVATE #5: (WINNETOU). And Bridget von Hammersmark, who wears her card in the brim of her fedora, has GENGHIS KHAN.

  It’s German #5’s (WINNETOU) turn to ask questions.

  The DIALOGUE will be in GERMAN and SUBTITLED IN ENGLISH.

  WINNETOU

  … okay, I’m not German. Am I American?

  The whole table bursts out laughing.

  FEMALE SGT. BEETHOVEN

  Yes, you are!

  EDGAR WALLACE

  Well, not really.

  SGT. POLA NEGRI

  What do you mean, not really? Of course he is.

  EDGAR WALLACE

  Well, if he’s so American, how come he’s never been translated into English. He’s not American. He’s supposed to be American, but he’s not an American creation. In fact, he’s something very different.

  WINNETOU

  Okay, I’m a fictional, literary character, from the past. I’m American, and that’s controversial.

  BRIDGET/GENGUS

  No, it’s not controversial. The nationality of the author has nothing to do with the nationality of the character. The character is the character. Hamlet’s not British, he’s Danish. So, yes, this character was born in America.

  WINNETOU

  Well, I’m glad that’s settled. If I had a wife, would she be called a squaw?

  He’s got it.

  The table laughs.

  THE TABLE

  YES!

  WINNETOU

  Is my blood brother Old Shatterhand?

  THE TABLE

  Yes!

  WINNETOU

  Did Karl May write me?

  THE TABLE

  Yes!

  In the BACKGROUND, WE SEE our three counterfeit German officers—Hicox, Wicki, and Stiglitz—enter the basement tavern. They obviously see the five German soldiers, but they’re too far away for us (the audience) to read their faces. No doubt they’re less than happy. Fräuhlein von Hammersmark sees them as well. Without getting up, she waves to them.

  BRIDGET

  Hello, my lovelies. I will join you in moments. I’m finishing up a game with my five new friends here.

  LT. HICOX

  No hurry, Fräulein von Hammersmark. Take your time. Enjoy yourself.

  BRIDGET

  (to Winnetou)

  So who are you?

  WINNETOU

  I am WINNETOU, CHIEF of the APACHES!

  The table CHEERS and APPLAUDS the Apache chief as he takes the card off his forehead.

  The other four German soldiers drink down their beer (part of the game).

  Bridget von Hammersmark knocks back her champagne.

  MATA HARI

  Fräulein von Hammersmark, when your friends came in, did you realize you did a double take, like in the movies?

  BRIDGET

  Really? No, I wasn’t aware of that at all.

  MATA HARI

  They must be second nature to you now. Did they teach you how to do a double take in the movies?

  BRIDGET

  Well, yes, they did, but it’s not really that difficult.

  SGT. POLA NEGRI

  Do one for us.

  The table heartily agrees.

  Bridget looks directly at the master sergeant and does a perfect, and perfectly funny, double take.

  The table loves it.

  MATA HARI

  My turn, I want to try.

  Mata Hari looks directly at Beethoven and does a double take.

  EDGAR WALLACE

  I want to try.

  He does.

  Soon the whole table is doing dueling double takes.

  HICOX—WICKI—STIGLITZ

  watch the table do dueling double takes. Obviously, they don’t understand.

  THEN…

  Bridget von Hammersmark rises and excuses herself from the table. She removes the card stuck in her fedora, looking at the name for the first time. Genghis Khan.

  BRIDGET

  Genghis Khan! I would never have gotten that.

  She walks over and joins the masquerading Germans’ table. The gentlemen rise. She greets each warmly with a French cheek kiss, as if she knows them well.

  They all take a seat. The two basterds and one Brit drink whiskey. The tavern’s PROPRIETOR, an older, big-bellied Frenchman named EARL, comes over to the table and pours more champagne into Bridget’s champagne glass. He leaves, returning back behind the bar, with the YOUNG FRENCH BARMAID, the only other person in the establishment.

  Obviously, they speak GERMAN, SUBTITLED IN ENGLISH:

  LT. HICOX

  I thought this place was supposed to have more French than Germans?

  BRIDGET

  Normally that’s true. The sergeant over there’s wife just had a baby. His commanding officer gave him and his mates the night off to celebrate.

  WICKI

  We should leave.

  BRIDGET

  No, we should stay. For one drink at least. I’ve been waiting for you in a bar. It would look strange if we left before we had a drink.

  LT. HICOX

  She’s right. Just be calm, and enjoy your booze.

  BACK TO THE GERMAN TABLE

  The French barmaid has taken Bridget’s place in the rousing, rowdy game. She tells them her person must be French or she won’t know them. Winnetou thinks for a moment, then writes a name on a card. The barmaid puts it on her forehead. It says: NAPOLEON.

  The Germans all laugh.

  BACK TO THE BASTERDS’ TABLE

  BRIDGET

  There’s been some new developments. The cinema venue has changed.

  LT. HICOX

  Why?

  BRIDGET

  No one knows. But that in itself shouldn’t be a problem. The cinema it’s been changed to is considerably smaller than The Ritz. So whatever materials you brought for The Ritz should be doubly effective here.

  Now this next piece of information is colossal, try not to overreact. The Führer will be attending tomorrow.

  Hugo Stiglitz does a SPIT-TAKE.

  Bridget’s eyes bore holes in him.

  BACK TO THE REAL GERMANS

  They see Hugo do the spit-take and burst out laughing. Keeping it up, they begin to do dueling spit-takes, like they did dueling double takes earlier. Needless to say, they all get wet.

  BACK TO THE BASTERDS

  BRIDGET

  (to Hicox)

  You’ll be going as Ernst Schuller. You’ll say you’re an associate producer on Riefenstahl’s “Tiefland.” It’s the one German production not under Goebbels’ control, and Leni wouldn’t be caught dead at a Goebbels film affair.

  BACK TO THE REAL GERMAN TABLE

  Master Sgt. Pola Negri drinks his beer as he looks over, dreamily, at Bridget von Hammersmark at the other table.

  BACK TO THE BASTERDS

  Bridget continues to brief Hicox on his identity. We see in the B.G. the German master sergeant stand up from his table and head toward Fräulein von Hammersmark.

  BRIDGET

  … the film’s gone through many delays, and Leni’s health is deteriorating, so if you have to speak…

  Hicox, seeing the German master sergeant approach, signals for her to cool it.

  SGT. POLA NEGRI

  Fräulein von Hammersmark, I was just thinking, could you sign an autograph to my son on his birthday?

  BRIDGET

  I’d love to, Wilhelm.

  (to the table)

  This handsome happy sergeant just became a father today.

  The pretend officers offer congrat
ulations to the sergeant.

  The German master sergeant CLICKS his heels and bows before his superior officers.

  SGT. POLA NEGRI

  Thank you. Heil Hitler.

  He raises his hand… as do the seated phony officers: “Heil Hitler.”

  As she takes a rather fancy fountain pen from her clutch…