The MenuIs it a sin to take our privileges for granted? No, but there is sadness in creating hollow art for unappreciative and entitled audiences. The Menu is a movie about an exclusive restaurant called "Hawthorne", operated by an enigmatic superstar chef named Julian Slowik (Ralph Fiennes) and his cult-like team of sous-chefs, cooks, et cetera. By invitation, a collection of pompous and conceited "guests" are brought to his island restaurant for a multi-course meal, meant to goad their arrogance more than their palettes. Among them is an unexpected guest: an escort named "Margot" (Anya Taylor-Joy).
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Comedies have been satirizing the wealthy and powerful for a hundred years, with examples including My Man Godfrey and The Rules of the Game. After all, most moviegoers are everyday people who watch them for an escape and to get a chuckle or a thrill while resting between the daily grind. It is not too different with food. As it is with movies appealing to our senses of sight and sound, food does the same with our sense of taste (and more). Not only do we need food for sustenance, but a well made meal is a delight, a bright spot in our humdrum existence. I think back to the night I proposed to my wife. We went to a fancy restaurant called Blue Cilantro, and had a scrumptious multi-course meal curated by the chef, Shetty Vidyadhara, including a lovely yahoo ceviche, a large-sized roasted prawn, and (my wife's favorite), chocolate lava cake for dessert. This memory stays with me because what made it special (aside from the wonderful food) was recalling that magical night and what it meant for the future we would share together. And yet, people can also enjoy commonplace dishes that are not expensive, that are still well made--such as a cheeseburger--which satisfy and nourish. People don't have to have "infusions" or "emulsions" every day just to sate their eccentricities. For those who do appreciate the lengths to which food can go to create a culinary experience, there is a joy here, too; most people call them "foodies". This is a two-way street, however. A chef considers the dishes that would satisfy his audience, and the audience chooses to dine where the food meets their desires. It's as simple as that, really. The Menu takes this idea and cynically subverts it by making Chef Slowik's creations so increasingly outlandish that they cannot be meant to achieve their primary intent: to feed. And the bitter irony is that none of Slowik's guests appreciate the food for its own sake in the first place. Each of them attends Hawthorne solely for narcissistic reasons, and Julian takes the opportunity to wield his craft against these unappreciative attendees.
Margot comments on the bizarre dynamic at work in Hawthorne to Tyler (Nicholas Hoult), the man who has hired her for this evening. Tyler obsessively fawns over Slowik's creations, showing off his knowledge of the craft, yet having no understanding of what goes into actually making the food himself. He represents the kind of overzealous "fan" that can be found in so many cultural venues, from art to sports, and he says as much to Margot. In a moment of heartfelt eloquence, he equates the act of cooking to control over life and death. He seems truly invested in Chef Slowik's vision, so one might think that his childlike enthusiasm would grant him mercy...but The Menu is not a merciful movie. Tyler regrettably turn into just another mockery of the privileged, like the rest of the guests. All of these attendees have "wronged" the master chef in one way or another...or at least offended him on principle; subsequently, they must be punished. Julian Slowik is painted as the "villain" figure in the movie, because he and his brainwashed team are ultimately plotting to kill and torture the guests in so many ways. But despite this, he comes across as more sympathetic than almost any of his guests. (You almost want to root for the naively foolish Tyler for the first quarter of the movie, so earnest as he is, but this sentiment gets cast aside too brusquely when he snaps his fingers at his date.) Margot and Julian find some unlikely common ground when the chef observes that she is also in the "service industry" like him. He informs her that she has to choose "a side" before his judgment comes down. So I suppose that The Menu is trying to make some kind of statement about a division between the "haves" and the "have nots", or as Julian puts it, those who "serve" and those who "take". But Julian Slowik is no revolutionary; he is hurt that what he was once passionate about has gone up in smoke with the rise of his prestige. He has allowed an "angel investor" to dictate how he conducts business and with whom. He allows arrogant patrons to criticize his work, and subsequently alters his artistic direction--as many of us do--to placate these entitled consumers. But isn't he essentially just resenting others for his own choices?
Margot isn't much different; as a sex worker, she conforms to the fantasies of her clientele, but her real name isn't even Margot (It's Erin). So both Margot/Erin and Julian lie to themselves in the pursuit of their livelihood, fame...really anything except joy. I suppose the message is to avoid such trappings in life, but The Menu never quite aligns itself with this message either. At times, the film wants to be a black comedy, playfully underscoring how horrible everyone is, and how they get their "just desserts" for their shallowness. At others, it wants to be a thriller, with escalations in tension and violence that become increasingly bloody and monstrous with each "course". Margot should be our anchor, as she vocally calls out Julian's shenanigans like "breadless bread plates", and so on. But even she carries herself with an air of superiority by way of leveraging her "down-to-earth" personality to critique everyone else. I believe that she's there solely to placate the audience (to be fair, most protagonists are), and to let us feel justified in looking down on all of the foolish restaurant snobs. But the only wisdom she brings to the story comes from stating the obvious and to make the audience feel that they are allowed to cast judgment on all of the rest of the characters, and we don't need her for that...not really. It's easy to pick out the flaws in everyone else, but much harder to do it with yourself. That makes Margot an ironic protagonist; the very thing her presence in the story serves to do is just what we loathe about all of the other characters: they cast stones in glass houses. Even at the conclusion, when Margot tries to rekindle Julian's love of cooking after scanning over a photo of him as a young fry cook making burgers, there is no revelation for him, no realization that he has lost his path. (And, let's be honest, I'd be surprised if Anya Taylor-Joy has ever eaten a greasy double cheeseburger.) There is one moment which I think best sums up the collection of misaligned themes in The Menu: When Tyler is put to the task to try to make his own contribution to the night's culinary escapades. It is described as lacking "cohesion". Much is the same with this film, which wants to be a wry comedy, a thriller, a horror movie, and a social commentary all in one. But like the ill-fated guests of Hawthorne, we are subjected to these different "courses" or genres on an arbitrary basis, expected to laugh when we're supposed to and be shocked when we're supposed to. The cynicism of the film leaves a bitter aftertaste, and subsequently feels drained of any joy.
Recommended for: Fans of a pretty movie that satirizes both the odd trend of "food porn" and snobbery, with an overabundance of foreshadowing of bad tidings with every new plate. The Menu joins a long list of contemporary movies packed with criticism against celebrities and the obnoxiously wealthy. But like that double cheeseburger at the end, it may taste good at first, but it probably isn't all that good for you in the long run to live on diet filled with double cheeseburgers.
Margot comments on the bizarre dynamic at work in Hawthorne to Tyler (Nicholas Hoult), the man who has hired her for this evening. Tyler obsessively fawns over Slowik's creations, showing off his knowledge of the craft, yet having no understanding of what goes into actually making the food himself. He represents the kind of overzealous "fan" that can be found in so many cultural venues, from art to sports, and he says as much to Margot. In a moment of heartfelt eloquence, he equates the act of cooking to control over life and death. He seems truly invested in Chef Slowik's vision, so one might think that his childlike enthusiasm would grant him mercy...but The Menu is not a merciful movie. Tyler regrettably turn into just another mockery of the privileged, like the rest of the guests. All of these attendees have "wronged" the master chef in one way or another...or at least offended him on principle; subsequently, they must be punished. Julian Slowik is painted as the "villain" figure in the movie, because he and his brainwashed team are ultimately plotting to kill and torture the guests in so many ways. But despite this, he comes across as more sympathetic than almost any of his guests. (You almost want to root for the naively foolish Tyler for the first quarter of the movie, so earnest as he is, but this sentiment gets cast aside too brusquely when he snaps his fingers at his date.) Margot and Julian find some unlikely common ground when the chef observes that she is also in the "service industry" like him. He informs her that she has to choose "a side" before his judgment comes down. So I suppose that The Menu is trying to make some kind of statement about a division between the "haves" and the "have nots", or as Julian puts it, those who "serve" and those who "take". But Julian Slowik is no revolutionary; he is hurt that what he was once passionate about has gone up in smoke with the rise of his prestige. He has allowed an "angel investor" to dictate how he conducts business and with whom. He allows arrogant patrons to criticize his work, and subsequently alters his artistic direction--as many of us do--to placate these entitled consumers. But isn't he essentially just resenting others for his own choices?
Margot isn't much different; as a sex worker, she conforms to the fantasies of her clientele, but her real name isn't even Margot (It's Erin). So both Margot/Erin and Julian lie to themselves in the pursuit of their livelihood, fame...really anything except joy. I suppose the message is to avoid such trappings in life, but The Menu never quite aligns itself with this message either. At times, the film wants to be a black comedy, playfully underscoring how horrible everyone is, and how they get their "just desserts" for their shallowness. At others, it wants to be a thriller, with escalations in tension and violence that become increasingly bloody and monstrous with each "course". Margot should be our anchor, as she vocally calls out Julian's shenanigans like "breadless bread plates", and so on. But even she carries herself with an air of superiority by way of leveraging her "down-to-earth" personality to critique everyone else. I believe that she's there solely to placate the audience (to be fair, most protagonists are), and to let us feel justified in looking down on all of the foolish restaurant snobs. But the only wisdom she brings to the story comes from stating the obvious and to make the audience feel that they are allowed to cast judgment on all of the rest of the characters, and we don't need her for that...not really. It's easy to pick out the flaws in everyone else, but much harder to do it with yourself. That makes Margot an ironic protagonist; the very thing her presence in the story serves to do is just what we loathe about all of the other characters: they cast stones in glass houses. Even at the conclusion, when Margot tries to rekindle Julian's love of cooking after scanning over a photo of him as a young fry cook making burgers, there is no revelation for him, no realization that he has lost his path. (And, let's be honest, I'd be surprised if Anya Taylor-Joy has ever eaten a greasy double cheeseburger.) There is one moment which I think best sums up the collection of misaligned themes in The Menu: When Tyler is put to the task to try to make his own contribution to the night's culinary escapades. It is described as lacking "cohesion". Much is the same with this film, which wants to be a wry comedy, a thriller, a horror movie, and a social commentary all in one. But like the ill-fated guests of Hawthorne, we are subjected to these different "courses" or genres on an arbitrary basis, expected to laugh when we're supposed to and be shocked when we're supposed to. The cynicism of the film leaves a bitter aftertaste, and subsequently feels drained of any joy.
Recommended for: Fans of a pretty movie that satirizes both the odd trend of "food porn" and snobbery, with an overabundance of foreshadowing of bad tidings with every new plate. The Menu joins a long list of contemporary movies packed with criticism against celebrities and the obnoxiously wealthy. But like that double cheeseburger at the end, it may taste good at first, but it probably isn't all that good for you in the long run to live on diet filled with double cheeseburgers.