“The cook, the thief, his wife and her lover” (1989), Peter Greenaway.
«- It’s dark in the restaurant.
– Yes, Phillipe.
– Thanks to Mr. Spica’s generosity, it is dark everywhere. No power, no light. (…)
– If you spent as much money on the meal, Mr. Spica, as you waste on the decor, your taste in good food must surely improve. (…)
– Two vans full of good stuff, just right for your kitchen.
– I would not touch it.
– Why on earth not?
– I insist on buying my own food, Mr. Spica. Then I can be sure of its quality.
– I represent quality round here, my name is known for it. I offer quality and protection.
– Protection against what, I wonder, Mr. Spica? And whom?
– Protection, Boarst, against the rash temper of my men. Against a sudden arrival of food poisoning. Against rats. Against the public health inspector. (…)
– Do up the third button of your expensive jacket, Mr. Spica. You’ll feel less empty inside, Mr. Spica. (…)»