Food Films
Amélie
Chef
The Menu
Bonjour and bon appetite, chefs! I hope you’re hungry because I’ve got a whole buffet of films to discuss this evening, an entire sampling menu of food films! Food films are not a genre, in and of themselves, of course, but food can be just as integral of a character as any human, animal, or other sentient being used to tell stories within filmmaking. Food is culture, food is energy, food is controversial, food is vital—or something pretentious like that. Well, here in my kitchen, I can appreciate any subgenre that may or may not actually exist. At the restaurant of Double Feature Thursday, I’m not fancy, or picky, or always the most organized, but I do love food, and I do love movies. Cinema can be just the place to build your appetite for adventure or your spice for life, and I can say that what I consumed this evening was almost perfectly satisfying. Up first was a French film that I have been dying to sink my teeth into for years, Jean-Pierre Jeunet’s 2001 classic: Amélie. Amélie aka The Fabulous Life of Amélie Poulain tells the tale of Amélie Poulain, an odd girl with a simple but strange life, and a wild imagination. Take a little Madeline, add a dash of Matilda, and they still couldn’t keep up with Amélie’s profound sense of whimsy and curiosity. This film is instantly very frenetic, frenzied, and French. We learn about her strange parents, her bizarre upbringing, the series of bizarre and unfortunate events that Amélie endures, including, but not limited to, being gifted a suicidal goldfish and misunderstanding that cameras cause car crashes. We learn quite a bit, about every single character, be they small or significant. It can be overwhelming at times, but I tend to enjoy this maximalist, ADHD way of directing and editing. It lets you understand so much more in one sitting, in one bite, and while every detail may not have been important, it was all very memorable. Amélie is not a movie about food, and it is likely not even considered a food film by some, however this film features some very memorable and delectable scenes surrounding food. Whether it be a young Amélie eating raspberries from her fingertips, or the cracking open of a creme brûlée, the dive-y food served at the bar Amélie works at, the delicious-looking pasta Amélie makes herself, or the vegetables at the stand outside of her local grocery store, food is an important prop and set piece throughout. Eating food is a social activity, especially in Europe, and yet Amélie often prefers quiet solitude. She is shy, but she is still determined to be around and involved with people. Throughout her story she learns of her impact upon others, how helpful she can be, how troublesome she can be, how she, alone, is not the only person who is alone in Paris. Amélie becomes a treasure hunter, a matchmaker, a meddler—always observing, always learning something new. This film is like a wild, vibrant cartoon come to life. Each scene and each character was bursting with energy, each of her endeavors become more absurd and wonderful as they play out. This is a very hungry film and this is a very horny film, which feels very French and very correct for a film with so much gusto. And while the film sets up its protagonist as an oddball, it takes pleasure in its introduction of every new character—each one a bigger oddball than the last. Perpetually emerging from this pandemic fog, I can relate to Amélie’s desire to know people without getting too close. I can sympathize with her frightened view of the world, and how intense every emotion can feel when you’re isolated. So, no, Amélie is not a film strictly about food. But food makes up so much of our every day lives, and that hum drum mundanity is seldom celebrated as it should be. Another film that took time to appreciate the tasty details in our every day minutia was a film written, directed, and starring Jon Favreau, his 2014 film Chef. Chef follows Head Chef Carl Casper of the fancy Los Angeles-based restaurant Gauloises. After getting into an internet fight, then a public fight with a jaded food critic, Chef Carl is a bit lost. All his young son wants is to spend time with him, but Carl is so deep into his Twitter beef that he can’t even squash the beef standing right before him. Carl is over the boujie restaurant scene, the bureaucracy and chaos of a high-end kitchen, and how much all of the pressure has crushed his creative spirit. But thanks to an idea from his ex-wife (Sofía Vergara) and a loan from her other ex-husband (Robert Downey Jr.) Chef Carl, one of his former coworkers, and his son decide to open up a food truck. What begins as a stressful little slice of life comedy, evolves into a full-on, feel-good roadtrip movie—complete with a good cast, good music, and pretty much every delicious food you can imagine. It was already shocking to see Robert Downey Jr. in this little Jon Favreau film right before Jon Favreau was swallowed completely whole by the Marvel machine, but it was also shocking to see Scarlet Johansson, Dustin Hoffman, Amy Sedaris, Bobby Cannavale, and John Leguizamo. It’s extremely 2014, from the references to Vine (RIP) and the old interface of Twitter, during the better days of Twitter (RIP). It was fun to see one of my favorite streets in Venice Beach featured, and really amazing to see so many Austin landmarks like Franklin BBQ, Homeslice, Gueros, and the 360 Pennybacker Bridge. It all felt like easy viewing, especially after the frantic filming style of Amélie, but it had the same amount of heart and good taste. All of the food looked delicious, and expertly made, and you could tell each depiction of each recipe was catered to with extreme care. This is a film for foodies, by foodies, and it will keep reminding you of that. By the end, Chef made me cry happy tears. It provided me with the kind of happiness that makes me reflect. And think back upon a movie I saw just a couple months ago, another food film touted for its elegance and satire, only to be served with a large helping of pretentiousness, Mark Mylod’s The Menu. You may be thinking, wait, if you didn’t like this movie, why spend the time roasting it? Well, dear reader, the answer is about as simple as the ethos at the center of this empty film: because I can! I had to sleep on The Menu, for several weeks it turns out, to decide exactly how I feel about it. So many people loved it, others felt “meh” about it, and yet I still went in hopeful. I’m sorry. I really really liked what was almost done with The Menu, and I am very into with the story that they thought was executed here, but the reality is that this movie isn’t very good. Not quite bad enough to spend time shitting on it, I thought, but no… I gotta say something because people really got my hopes up for this one. 2022 was the year of scripts that promised to eat the rich (Triangle of Sadness, Glass Onion, maybe even a little bit Tár) and very few of them actually did so successfully. This theme was present in so much of the film and television released last year and yet The Menu still came in cocky, certain that it’s commentary on class would be the one for the masses. The pandemic did cause a certain shift in class consciousness I think, because while survival became a universal goal, a certain tax bracket was able to survive and exist as if nothing had happened—just as they do during any crisis. They bought real estate on private islands, they locked themselves in their ivory towers, and while they heard the rumbling of civil unrest outside their doors I guess some of them sat down to write scripts that condemned their own kind. (I want to be clear that Triangle of Sadness, in my opinion, succeeded the most, and Tár doesn’t really belong in this shit show) I guess the bottom line, from a working class, never-gonna-own-property kind of perspective, is that this feels like poorly-done pandering. SPOILER INCOMING —> Feeling the tension among humanity and thinking the answer is: everyone dies? Literally fucking why?? Seriously, this movie would’ve been just mid to me if the other chefs didn’t die along with the elite class here. That made absolutely no sense to me. Whatever salient points they made in the first half were completely forgotten when they jumped the shark and were just like, “well, everyone dies lol! Teehee! How wild is that? How satirical is that?” Idk y’all. It was close. It was close to being mid. But it felt like the cinematic version of a person patting themselves on the back. It felt like watching someone do a slow clap in an empty room. A celebration of mediocrity to an audience of crickets. The food looked delicious, and that is where my compliments to the chef end. Idk man. On the one hand, it’s not that bad. On the other hand, it is. Lol. Thank you for dining with me this week, dear readers, I hope the food for thought was to your liking. Tipping is optional at this establishment, but returning to read what I write next week is encouraged. Ta ta for now, chefs!
