The Menu (2022)

★★★
Comparing the characters in The Menu to actual people and describing how their actions and fates relate to celebrity culture as of late should have been easy, but just when I had a good idea of where this movie was going, it pushed back against my assumptions. Either the movie is not at all what I think it is, or its purpose wasn't fully realized. The elitists and the disaffected behave as anticipated, until they do something to send theories back to be reevaluated. It's like the block of stone hiding a great sculpture inside of it, and our only task is to chisel away the excess bits. The Menu is like the block, hiding something great within. Nevertheless, even though the sculpture is a work in progress, it is a magnificent structure on its own. At its most basic, the movie is a denouncement of snobby celebrities and the pedestals they occupy.

Julian Slowik (Ralph Fiennes) is a celebrity chef who caters to the rich and famous. His restaurant (called Hawthorne) is located on an island reachable only by ferry. He and his staff produce all the food used in their recipes. He has been in operation for a while, but as the movie opens, he has something special in store for his latest service. On this night gathers a special group of people who are, in one way or another, the objects of his wrath. His passion for his profession is completely shot, so this particular dinner will have special meaning for him. The guest list is short but revealing. There's Tyler (Nicholas Hoult), a Chef Slowik fan who fancies himself as a foodie extraordinaire. His date is Margot (Anya Taylor-Joy), who was not his original date and will therefore cause Chef Slowik to become suspicious of her.

The other guests represent a cross section of self-serving entitled luminaries. There is actor George Diaz, who is played by John Leguizamo, himself a loathsome non-Italian actor who once played the Italian plumber Luigi in 1993's Super Mario Bros. but criticizes Chris Pratt for voicing the character years later over race. George appeared in a movie that Chef Slowik watched and hated. The fact that Leguizamo allowed himself to be cast in a role that satirizes fatheaded elitists when he's one of them shows that either he's willing to kid himself, or he was willing to fall on his own sword to make a buck. Also invited to Hawthorne is a trio of tech execs (played by Arturo Castro, Rob Yang and Mark St. Cyr) that has used its positions in unscrupulous and advantageous ways. Roll them into one and you might get Elizabeth Holmes.

The chef's speeches and offerings start as expected but become increasingly bizarre. He tells the story of how he defended his mother against his abusive father by stabbing him with scissors. The next course is chicken with scissors stuck in them. Some of the guests are disturbed at the proceedings, while others refuse to acknowledge the danger. Food critic Lillian Bloom (Janet McTeer) and her editor Ted (Paul Adelstein) are also guests. She has previously written good reviews of Julian's restaurants, but as we listen to her commentary on his presentation, she dismisses what is happening right in front of her and chalks it all up to theatrics. When host Elsa (Hong Chau) cuts off the finger of guest Richard (Reed Birney), Lillian is quick to rationalize what is obviously a dire situation that threatens everyone. Going against common sense for the sake of appearing sophisticated is something I see on C.N.N. on the rare occasion that I cross paths with it. I recently saw S.E. Cupp on a segment, and everything (everything) that spewed out of her mouth was wrong.

The guests brought about their own self-destruction. They earned the ire of the Chef Slowiks of the world. I liked a scene in which Tyler is forced to prepare a meal in the kitchen. Despite having every resource at his disposal (equipment, ingredients), he can only produce undercooked lamb. He is too stuffy for his own good. This plays into the idea that many celebrities are so out of touch with reality that they have no clue what it's like to work a modest job like you and I do. Though many did in fact come from small towns and middle-class backgrounds and worked in food service to support themselves early in their careers, some have reached a level of affluence that has blinded them to Main Street, U.S.A. Mark Ruffalo, one of the most unintelligent men in the acting profession, once appeared in a Clearasil commercial. If he had his way politically, the next generation of Clearasil actors would struggle far more than he ever did.

Main Street, U.S.A. gets a shout out here. After all the indignities suffered at Hawthorne, after all the pompous grandstanding and pretentious menu offerings, what really wins out is a cheeseburger. Margot, the only grounded character in the restaurant, sees it. She sees Chef Slowik's lost passion for his craft and correctly guesses that he once loved what he did and that a return to basics could be the key to fulfillment. I read Buzz Patterson's book about his time as a military aide for President Bill Clinton—the object of worship for people like Mark Ruffalo. After getting such a plum assignment working in the White House, Patterson felt drained by the experience. For his follow-up assignment, he chose an unusual destination: The U.S. Air Force Academy. He wanted to rediscover his passion for military service, and choosing the Academy was the perfect antidote after working with the Clintons. (After reading Buzz's description of Hillary's food requests on Air Force One, I suspect she would appreciate Chef Slowik's breadless bread course.)

The high water mark for movies that use restaurant settings and food as commentary is Peter Greenaway's The Cook, the Thief, His Wife and her Lover. Jon Favreau's Chef gets an honorable mention. The Menu lacks the clear purpose of Greenaway's movie. Who exactly does Chef Slowik and his staff represent? Despite his vendetta against his posh guests, he catered to them for years. His dissatisfaction didn't happen overnight. His prices are beyond the reach of middle class patrons. Some of his guests are repeat customers. He might dislike actor George, but food critic Lillian championed his cooking in her writings. Hawthorne's staff is harder to pin down. My analysis is therefore incomplete. I liked a lot of it. I liked how the movie serves as a reminder not to get too caught up in celebrity culture. Maybe Chef Slowik grew to be part of the problem, and now he senses something wrong with the empire he helped support. His only solution is to tear it down.

The best weapon we wield is our hard-earned money. There's no need to stand alongside the likes of John Leguizamo while the ship sinks. We can ride the lifeboat away unscathed and find contentment elsewhere. (I ditched Stephen King years ago and started reading Robert Heinlein. Why didn't I start reading him sooner?) That makes the Hawthorne staff's actions a head-scratcher and The Menu a satisfactory but not completely effective satire. We get the targets, but what about the staff? The staff did not have to represent anyone in particular. Chef Slowik could have filled that role, while his assistants could have been no more than props. However, we get a tour of the staff's living quarters, which is a military-style barracks complete with open toilet facilities. This brief scene all by itself forces us to consider the staff's role in Slowik's grand plan when we probably shouldn't be doing that. This was just one of the sculpture’s excess bits that should have been chipped away. This is a movie that begs for interpretation. Leaving behind a few unnecessary bits instead of chipping them away is enough to send us in the wrong direction. Luckily, the uncertainty doesn't block our view of the big picture.

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