Photo by Justin Campbell on Unsplash
Food for Thought: Review of The Menu
By Geoff Carter
“You’ll get less than you desire, and more than you deserve”.
This little nugget of wisdom is whispered to an arrogant dinner guest by Elsa, the maître d’hôtel at the Hawthorne, an ultra-exclusive gourmet restaurant set on a remote island in The Menu, a darkly comedic thriller and a razor-sharp satire that addresses the sanctity of privilege, the smarminess of foodies, and the narcissism of the artist.
Twelve guests have been invited to the Hawthorne by its celebrity chef Julian Slowik (Ralph Fiennes). These patrons include renowned food critic Lillian Bloom (Janet McTeer) and her relentlessly feckless and fawning editor Ted (Paul Adelstein), a has-been film star (John Leguizamo) and his assistant Felicity (Aimee Carrero), three rude and arrogant millennial business partners: Soren (Arturo Castro), Bryce (Rob Yang), and Dave (Mark St. Cyr) with ties to restaurant, Richard (Reed Birney) and Anne (Judith Light) Liebrand, an equally arrogant and very rich couple. Finally, there is the slavishly devoted foodie Tyler (Nicholas Hoult) and his last-minute date Margot (Anya Taylor-Joy.) Rounding out the guest list is Chef’s alcoholic mother, who is relegated to a corner, where she drinks. Relentlessly.
The guest list is somewhat evocative of an Agatha Christie plot device in one of her murder mysteries, a la And Then There Were None. The characters seem to be more archetypes than real people—the has-been actor and long-suffering assistant, the rude businessmen, the egotistical intellectuals, and—finally, the noble heroine of humble beginnings. Even in this filmic world, the type of characters at the dinner seems a bit contrived, there for a reason—but this simply whets our appetites. We know something’s coming. And, indeed, it does turn out that Chef Slowik does have something more in mind than a gourmet meal. Elsa’s realization that Margot is not an invited guest, but a last-minute stand-in throws her, and Chef, into a tizzy.
After the group arrives at the island by boat, Elsa takes them on a tour of the facilities, including the farms, the smokehouse, the beach, and the cooks’ quarters. She speaks about how all the food used at the Hawthorne comes from the island, that its ecosystem is a paradigm of Chef’s philosophy. Things grow, die from natural causes—or are killed to be consumed.
After the group is brought into the restaurant and seated, Chef introduces himself and presents each course with a short monologue. As the evening progresses, it becomes apparent that Chef Slowik has a definite agenda. During one of the courses, photos revealing some of the guests’ deep dark secrets have been etched onto tortilla shells. Soren and his buddies are horrified to see falsified sales and tax records from their business while Anne notices a picture of husband with another woman on their tortillas. When Richard tries to leave, he is gruesomely detained, and it becomes painfully obvious that no one will be leaving the restaurant that night.
The Chef eventually reveals his motive—that everyone at the meal has either demeaned him or his cooking—his art—or have made their living off the backs of other artists and must pay. He tells the guests that everyone in the restaurant, guests and staff alike, will die that night, but since Margot has upset his careful plans by being a substitute for Tyler’s original date and because she is not rich, privileged, or predatory, Chef gives her a choice as to how she will die. Margot, however, manages to cleverly turn the tables of Chef Slowik.
The Menu is marvelous satire; it is a complete and unabashed send-up of both the foodie culture and as a sort of modern-day class comedy. It is also, as seen in the ramblings of Chef Slowik, a commentary on the state of the self-absorbed and narcissistic artist. He tells his guests not to eat, but to taste, and that his fine works of art will enter their bodies and turn to shit, a statement which echoes back to Elsa’s introduction to the island and the awareness of the processes of life and death in—Slowik’s at least—art of cooking.
One of the funniest scenes is during the second course when Chef first gives his customers a history of bread, how it was made from only water and flour, and was therefore the basic food staple of the masses. Chef serves the course, a bread plate with condiments but without bread, telling the group that since they are rich and privileged, they will not be served bread, which is a scathing comment on the intellectual posturings of fine dining—as well its critics—and the arrogance of the wealthy customers, who demand their bread.
At another point, Chef points out that Richard and Anne have been to the restaurant eleven times. He asks Richard to name one dish during those visits. Richard cannot do it; Slowik’s art, his lifework means nothing to him. Tyler, a Chef Slowik groupie and wannabe gourmand, does not stop his orgy of feasting even as tragedy and mayhem happen right in front of him. The three business associates arrogantly demand bread and remind Elsa that their boss is primary investor in the restaurant. Elsa simply, and comically—says no. Once. Twice. And once again to the bewildered millennials whose puzzled reactions—like angry little boys—are priceless.
Slowik’s assertion that food and consumption are part of the natural cycle is intrinsic to his art. The first course of shellfish and greens is done with a beautiful presentation. The setting is a model of the island, the biome of which he speaks. Slowik’s reaction to the bastardization and trivialization of his art and the emptiness in his life because of it is not only the primary motivation for his final immolation but is also a sly dig at the self-important prima donnas in kitchens all over the world.
Fienne’s depiction of the world-weary and self-consciously tragic Chef is brilliant. His barely hidden contempt for his customers is tempered only by his own self-pity. Anya Taylor-Joy’s performance as Margot is not as finely layered as her usual work, but in a film focused on satire rather than her usual character-driven vehicles, her performance still resonates. The rest of the cast is excellent. As Tyler, Nicholas Hoult comes perilously close to going over the top but manages to keep his footing. He is brilliantly funny. Mark Mylod’s direction is also taut and focused. His beautiful treatment of the courses and the food culture–ironic though they may be–is brilliant.
The Menu keeps a steady balance between horror, suspense, and humor. Its take on foodies and the privileged is scathing—and dead-on accurate. Those who eat at fine restaurants to be seen or to exploit it or to simply eat (not taste) may be arrogant heathens, but those like Chef, who expect their work to be lauded as world-changing are simply deluded. Yet, in terms of who we are and what we expect from life and at the dinner table, Elsa was right.
“You’ll get less than you desire, and more than you deserve.”
Except, with The Menu, we get everything we desire.