The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014)

F. Murray Abraham: Mr. Moustafa

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Quotes 

• 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?

• 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.

• 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.

• 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.

• 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.

• 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.

• Mr. Moustafa : The Prussian grippe. An absurd little disease. Today, we treat it in a single week; but, in those days, many millions died.