ESSENCE, AND EXCELLENCE
ANH HUNG TRAN’S THE TASTE OF THINGS (2023)
Juliet Binoche and Benoît Magimel star in Anh Hung Tran’s new film about the essence of life, and living.
In the painting Still Life with Oysters, a Silver Tazza, and Glassware by Dutch master Willem Claesz Heda (1635), shucked oysters laze about on a silver tray, next to a peeled lemon, half full chalice and overturned, ornate silver decanter. Life is good. Still life paintings came to provenance in the 1600s, in the Netherlands, and spread through France, Spain and other locales, each region imbuing their interpretations with local color and custom. They told a story, these quiet paintings, of global trade – porcelain from China, spices from India – wealth, commerce, and the art of living well. They also became the signature of the most talented painters, their exquisite detail requiring untold patience and skill.
The Taste of Things (2023), the new film by Anh Hung Tran, is like a French still life painting brought to dream-like fruition. Fresh vegetables and flowers adorn wooden tables in a modest but spacious country kitchen. In the dining room, light from candelabras and the always crackling fire glints off of flatware, dishware and glassware, set graciously and luxuriously across the table. A moving still life, we are settled into a few rooms of a French country house, and there we remain, observing the life behind the food and the hands that prepare it.
The film is based on a 1920 novel by Marcel Rouff, The Passionate Epicure, which itself is based on a real life Swiss chef and gastronome from the late 1700s, Anthelme Brillat-Savarin, who, in addition to extravagant recipes, left behind such gems as “Tell me what you eat and I’ll tell you who you are.” Contemporary chef Pierre Gagnaire was the head chef and consultant of the film (and plays a small role), and food historian Patrick Rambourg worked with Tran to ensure period authenticity. Juliette Binoche plays Eugénie, the head cook to Dodin Bouffant, whose name matches the main character’s of the novel, and is played by Benoît Magimel, to whom Binoche was married from 1998 to 2003. So the ex of the finest actress in France plays a chef based on a novel’s chef, based on a real chef, with a real chef driving what we see from these two on-screen chefs. Got it?
If this sounds complicated – it isn’t. Only the recipes are. What unveils is a master class in excellence, in cooking, acting, lighting, pacing and storytelling… and we are the invited guests. The much buzzed about opening scene – which is the most incredible meal you have ever seen in your life, and if it isn’t, you are either dead or very rich. The gentle, pastoral, Earth-toned tapestry that is the set, and the balletic movements of its players stood in stark contrast to the mind-blowing viewing experience. “What the f*** is that?!” I kept saying, watching these concoctions be created in front of my eyes. “What is that fish they are lining around the edge of the copper pot? What even is that kind of vegetable? IS THAT A STINGRAY?!”
It’s basically a mind-blown-emoji-come-to-life moment for us peasants who are unfamiliar with the otherworldly magic that is storied French cooking. I thought of myself as a fairly facile cook until that moment, after which I vowed to never say that I know anything about food or its preparation again. It is not a stingray (I should get out more), it is a turbot, a left-sided flatfish with its eyes on one side of its head, common to the Mediterranean and Baltic Seas. And apparently best with housemade hollandaise. The elaborate, stunning pastry filled with treasure is a seafood vol-au-vent, featuring a thick filling of crayfish (which we see lovingly poached) and vegetables (from their garden just outside, bien sur). “Vol-au-vent” means “windblown,” and refers to the pastry, as well as the space between my ears while viewing.
Garish and mass media American food shows feature food porn. This is food fine art. For carnivores, is there any portrait more beautiful than the rack of veal? For sweet tooths, the omelette Norwegian (baked Alaska – don’t ask) is the be-all end-all, the messiah, the sweet hereafter all wrapped into one and flambéd to perfection. (And for ice cream devotees, the sight of a 19th century ice cream maker, replete with 19th century ice, is a pure delight.)
What’s better than caviar, or oysters? How about caviar on oysters, with creme fraiche? What is the only sensible way to enjoy an ortolan bunting? Why, by draping your napkin over your head and the bowl or plate, to experience its aromas and to consume the fabulous fowl in one go. What is an ortalan, you say? Let me check my list of on-screen dishes I had to research, which was all of them, and share that it is a small songbird, a delicacy of period French cooking.
The film was shot in heaven, but the internet claims the location was Maine-et-Loire, in western France. At some point, I wondered if a plot twist would emerge, revealing that our main characters were in fact deceased, and this was their afterlife. Thankfully this is not the case, but it does call to mind the feeling of heaven on Earth. Fine food, friendship and love. Regardless of one’s station in life, the wealth one has amassed or has not, the capabilities or deficiencies of one’s body or one’s belief in what comes next: are there any finer gifts in life?
Peace and safety come to mind. As so many in the world suffer, it might be difficult to access the peace portrayed in The Taste of Things; but it is also a welcome respite from our world and our time. The film works in part because it is set in the distant past, providing a safe distance from our own period from which to enjoy it.
The food, however – is simply the setting. The cast is flawless, so thoroughly at home that one forgets they are acting. And the central performances, by Binoche and Magimel, are a fluid pas de deux around the pot au feu and every other incredible creation they conjure. Dodin’s surname, “Bouffant,” (from the novel’s protagonist) means hardworking, detailed and resourceful, and Magimel imbues him with every one of these traits, as well as a dutiful humility in the face of the gastronomic wonders he works, and even more so to the greater love of his life – Eugénie.
There is no argument here: Juliette Binoche is the glowing center of this film. Every spectacular dish, glistening with gourmet garnishes and velvet sauces are no match for her radiance. To watch her is to gaze upon a diamond, light reflecting from each surface as she turns. Her slightest smile is the film’s greatest achievement; the charmed disbelief that enveloped me right from the start continued when the camera turned to her to reveal a master at her craft, one of France’s greatest contributions to cinema, for her grace, deftness with role and script, and pure elegance… I was equally floored. She elevates everything she is in, keeping Chocolat (2000) from becoming too sweet; providing grounding for The English Patient (1996); ferrying us to another side of life in Blue (1993); and breathing life into dozens more films across her canonical filmography. The art of conveying untrammeled humanity but with discipline, subtlety and grace are among her greatest gifts to filmmaking.
Together, Binoche and Magimel are seamless, lived in, and again, modest. There is no performance that puffs out its chest in this film. There is a lightness and simplicity to Tran’s direction, as refreshing as the wine we see (and envy). Their history as a couple provides a lovely backdrop to the characters they play – but it’s almost unnecessary. Everything we need to know and feel is right on screen.
A perfect companion piece to the film’s rhapsodic opening meal is the one Dodin cooks for Eugénie. And here is where, if I have not spoiled enough, I will leave you to experience it yourself. It is simply a dream, whose images still appear in my mind everyday. A plot, as simple as the production approach, moves things along, and while the pace is definitely as slow as the most elaborate of meals, it is sufficient as a general structure on which to hang the beautiful proceedings. And the script is lovely, simple, and feels true, down to one of the film’s most intimate lines: “May I watch you eat?”
As a one time dreamer of becoming a film composer, I had mixed feelings about Tran omitting an original score. But by the end, I had completely forgotten. It must be the most beautiful film you will see without an original score or music of any kind. It combines the arts of poetry, painting, cooking, and cinema, suggesting perhaps that they are all ingredients in a single, era-crossing artform. Like the broths and sauces strained and clarified on screen, we are shown the essence of something, something special and rare, with a steady focus and patient hand, so often missing from our many of era’s fast paced and maximalist mainstream pictures. Essence, and excellence, are the chief reasons to grab your food dictionary and rush to relax with this moving still life, a splendid achievement by Tran and his talented team.