Tell Me What You Eat

THE FINEST FOOD MOVIE probably of this or any other century sneaked into release last year, obscured, as is too often the case, by the blood and bombs and general nastiness that seems to attract a contemporary audience. I can’t say for sure; I quit those ranks decades ago. Right around the time I began cooking professionally.

And that’s part of the appeal of what’s been Englished as “The Taste of Things,” although the novel from which it drew inspiration is titled La Vie et la passion de Dodin-Bouffant, written by  Marcel Rouff in 1924, itself Englished as The Passionate Epicure. We’ll get back to that.

If you’re a passionate cinéaste, you already have your favorites. If your list is topped by anything other than “The Taste of Things,” it means only that you haven’t seen that movie yet. I have no argument with the superior nature of “Big Night” (1996), which previously topped my list, followed closely by “Tampopo” (1985) (and look for co-star Kôji Yakusho in the recent “Pleasant Days”), “Babette’s Feast” (1987), and “A Chef in Love” (1996), which boasts convincing work of versatile comedian Pierre Richard, himself a restaurant owner.

Especially fine is “Chocolat” (2000), in which Juliette Binoche is a peripatetic chocolatier who manages to seduce an uptight village through her charm and wares. Binoche returns as a cook in “The Taste of Things,” playing the enigmatic Eugénie, who works in the lavish kitchen of Dodin-Bouffant, played by her former real-life boyfriend Benoît Magimel. This time, Binoche is preparing a lavish feast in classic French style during a 25-minute opening sequence that perfectly captures the intense though seemingly casual choreography of professional cooking. As Binoche and Magimel and housemaid Violette (Galatéa Bellugi) assemble the courses, almost nothing is spoken because the routines are known. Director Tran Anh Hùng keeps his busy camera in motion, helping intensify the pace; best of all, there’s no music track to distract us. When Massenet’s “Méditation” sounds at the very end, it’s startling. Only then do you realize we’ve otherwise done without.

The opening food-preparation sequence will be your make-or-break moment. There is, as always, a chorus of chirping idiots infesting the user-review sections of IMDB and other sites offering their witless opinions that the film is boring – “all they do is make food!” Consider them your reverse barometers. Yes, they do make food, and it’s done with such joy and authenticity that I found tears on my cheeks.

I had the privilege of training in a kitchen run by an Italian chef who also studied French Haut cuisine, thus giving me the best of both worlds. I learned my mother sauces; I learned to break down a leg of veal and make the roast that’s featured. I made quenelles, which you’ll see in this movie, although I didn’t use a mortar; I made béchamel, seasoning it with fresh-grated nutmeg; most challenging of all, I made consommé (it was a regular-menu item!), requiring an excellent stock to be clarified with a raft of egg whites. You’ll see it all in this sequence, and a whole lot more.

And it’s not just the cooking procedures that look so true. It’s also the traffic. A well-run kitchen is staffed by people who develop a sixth sense about who’s where and where to go next. There are no collisions. There are glances exchanged, gestures perhaps, but no words. They’re not needed. Everyone knows what’s needed to finish prep; everyone has an inner timer that silently rings when it’s time to pull something out of the oven or attend to a sauté. Again, you’ll see that here, and if doesn’t look dramatic, believe me, the drama is still there. It’s a culinary ballet.

The story moves beyond the kitchen, of course, as we explore the characters, including a young woman named Pauline (Bonnie Chagneau-Ravoire) who has an amazing appreciation of food and would like to study with Dodin. There’s his trio of fellow aficionados (Emmanuel Salinger, Frédéric Fisbach, and Jan Hammenecker). And watching them enjoy a meal is almost as compelling as watching it get prepared.

The Passionate Epicure, which served as source material, was written by the man who co-authored a 27-volume guide to culinary opportunities throughout France, so he was familiar with who was serving what and where it was served. His Dodin is a retired magistrate, much older than as portrayed by Magimel, living peacefully in eastern France’s Jura department. A few characters move from novel to film, particularly the aficionados. But Binoche’s character, Eugénie, disappears after the book’s opening chapter, so the movie almost could be considered a prequel. In any event, the book is too disjointedly episodic to led itself to a screenplay, and director Anh Hung Tran did an excellent job crafting a story that does justice to the novel’s intentions. (He was born in Vietnam but grew up in France, and his movies tend to deal with issues of family separation and loss. His previous two films are “Eternity,” from 2016, and 2010's “Norwegian Wood.”)

The cinematography is unfailingly lovely throughout, even as it always works in service of the story. Emotions are contrasted or reinforced, depending on the need of the moment, and the final sequence is a breathtaking piece of virtuoso camera work. For that we credit Jonathan Ricquebourg, who has an impressive and varied catalogue of work, all of it, as far as I can determine, in France. I hope he stays there, and Tran, too, because transplanting to Hollywood is always a gamble. Although it seems to have worked out well for Lasse Hallström, who came here from Sweden after his great success with “My Life as a Dog” in 1985, and has the aforementioned “Chocolat” to his credit.

I often like to celebrate an inspiring food-related movie by recreating a meal depicted within. I’ve made the “Big Night” timpano, something approaching the spread in “The Dead,” and a noodle soup for “Tampopo,” reserving the creative use of an egg yolk for a more private moment. But “The Taste of Things” may be more of a challenge than I’m willing to take on. For one thing, I don’t think anybody I know is prepared to eat quite so much at one sitting; for another, there’s a puff-pastry creation, a kind of galette, filled with vegetables in béchamel, sliced and served as pie slivers. I’m sure that puff pastry was made from scratch, and, having done it once, decades ago, I’m no longer up to it. But I sure won’t mind shepherding that veal roast into and out of the oven!