“You cook with obsession, not love. Even your hot dishes are cold.”
-Margot (Anya Taylor-Joy), The Menu
Hey, remember when I said I was going to blog about my top ten movies of all time and then my life was unexpectedly thrown into a new dimension of chaos? Well, we’re back at it (the blogging—the chaos abides).
When we left off, with Ratatouille, I mentioned that movie being one of two about food on this list. The second is more recent and perhaps a little more obvious, and it is one I returned to recently while I continue exploring a range of possible new moves in this industry I love and desperately desire to remain connected to. It is, of course, 2022’s The Menu, directed by Mark Mylod and starring Anya Taylor-Joy and Ralph Fiennes.
In my original discussion almost a year prior, I spoke about the effect of this movie in terms of its sympathetic link to workers in the many service industries, the resulting catharsis of its exploration therein, and the unsettling, occasionally humorous balance The Menu strikes as it explores these themes. In the time since that review there has been something of a general explosion of these themes both in media (enter The Bear) and in with the ongoing reckoning of the industry itself (my own loss of job and subsequent search only somewhat included.)
There is something to be said about a film that takes its time exploring the mental and physical toll of devoting one’s life to something as strenuous as service. To be sure, there are stressful elements to every job and industry. But especially as one who has decided to work in the front of the house, where one’s reputation is equated with not only one’s work but one’s personality and performance (service is theatre, and it would do well for all to remember that), I find myself with a new appreciation of the way The Menu delves into its layers of obsession, passion and lack thereof, and the hollowing way devotion to one’s craft develops without one necessarily being aware of it. The ways in which certain toxic elements such as the presumed familiarity of guests to servers, (Ralph Fiennes and Anya Taylor-Joy’s characters discussion equating service to escort work is a deftly executed comparison), the entitlement of those with the money to eat at fine dining establishments, the pervasive nature of critique, and the ways in which these social and economic norms must be navigated without violating them.
It matters to the halibut, indeed.
Yet through all of this, The Menu remains adequately tense and surprisingly hilarious. I don’t know that I commented much on the latter in my original review, but it warrants mention here now. There are certain in-jokes unique to those of us who work in service (I always chuckle at the increasingly absurd wine descriptions knowing all too well how often I may or may not sound the same), the back and forth over the word ‘mouthfeel,’ and the best exchange of the movie: whether or not the lack of student loans warrants damnation. There’s a unique, almost personal, rant against s’mores and increasingly large bowls of broken emulsions alongside tacos that could hold up in court and a flabbergasting allude to Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. You laugh, and then you shudder, and then you think and suddenly there is wonderful, horrible, hilarious clarity.
For the prior, the tense atmosphere, I do not know if the film ever feels as melodramatically preachy as other attempts to cover restaurant work may occasionally appear, if only because it deals with a level of service and showmanship few get the chance to experience. If there is absurdity, it exists because of how close to reality the film gets. That’s a compliment, and a moment of sincere admiration and reflection. There are cults of personalities of the kind portrayed, and there are conflicts between coworkers and their superiors of the kind represented. Of course there are. Now more than ever we are having discussions of the underlying difficulties of an industry built on a mélange of passion, ego, hospitality, margin, and drink. I will never be so bold as to give The Menu credit for anything like beginning the conversation, but I think it a more real element of that conversation that many flashier stories standing beside, before, or after it participate in.
What is most surprising to me, and what I think has earned this film such high praise and its place on my Top Ten list, is the release and relief that comes from watching it. There are tropes aplenty for its place as a quasi-horror/thriller, and so many quotable lines that to rewatch it is almost like being in on some great practical joke. I do rewatch this—not frequently, but some. There are times when this life feels like an insurmountable task, and it helps to be reminded (if only by something as simple as a cheeseburger) of why we do it to ourselves again, and again. The Menu is caution and comfort in equal measure, a cathartic release and a sympathetic ear ready to tell a joke over a wine tasting of longing and regret.
“So, the question is, do you want to die with those who give, or those who take?”
“But I die either way? It’s arbitrary.”
“No, it’s not arbitrary. Nothing in this kitchen is arbitrary.”