Way back this winter, my husband and I also went to a French Restaurant in Georgetown. Over a delicious meal of beef medallions, warm croquant bread, and other tasty sundries, we got on the subject of movies about food. As he enthusiastically recalled Ratatouille and No Reservations, I squirmed uncomfortably in my seat. Time to fess up my feelings.
"They sort of leave me cold", I admitted.
"But I thought you would enjoy them!" Andy exclaimed, disappointed. (See how my hubby thinks about me? What a sweetie.)
So I got to thinking about this. His expectation was that I would love these movies because they center around food, one of my favorite things in life. So why did I have this reaction? Some films involving food I adore, but why not these?
Don't get me wrong. All of these films have their good moments. Ratatouille's most touching moment for me came at the very end, involving a touching personal memory. (No spoilers provided here!) And I laughed hard when Catherine Zeta-Jones stormed out of the restaurant kitchen and knifed a thick cut of redmeat into the table of a dissatisfied patron, demanding, "Raw enough for you?" in No Reservations. These films were definitely watchable and fun. But they didn't hook me, didn't linger in my memory, once they were over.
I think this has something to do with the purpose that the food serves in the lives of those who prepare it. When food is a McGuffin, does it work for me?
The food, or more precisely, the act of preparing food, is used in different ways in these films. In Ratatouille, an animated film, the MacGuffin is the finely tuned nose of a rat who lives with his fellow creatures in a sewer. His passion for creating tasty food drives him to the Big City of Paris to cook under cover, literally: He hides under the hat of a young guy who has absolutely no feel for cooking, and hilariously directs him around the kitchen, preparing wonderful dishes. It makes for a great animated film. The action moves at a frenetic pace in a prestigious restaurant kitchen, where there is cutthroat competition among chefs to create the perfect dish. The pace is probably realistic, but it left me exhausted. Ratatouille is really a story about being true to one's identity and following a dream in the face of difficult odds and disapproval. But it was too "Type A" and driven for my taste. *
This is the same feeling I get when I watch TV shows like The Iron Chef...not that I have too much time for TV these days!
In No Reservations, something similar occurs, in that the film is truly about finding one's path in the face of tragedy. But again, food is secondary, subservient to this goal. The chef, played by Catherine Zeta-Jones, is in therapy, then her sister dies, leaving her as her niece's guardian. She essentially hides behind her trade to avoid life. Why is this the case? What happened in her childhood, that her therapist tries to touch on, but she waves away? These questions go unanswered. Too bad, because then maybe I would feel more of a connection to her as a character. And most frustrating for me, as someone who loves the taste, texture, smell of food -- I found the movie really devoid of that very sensory experience. This movie touched on food, but didn't reveal what it symbolizes for the main character. Ok, they showed us spaghetti, but not what went into making it -- either the labor of chopping vegetables, or what this particular dish meant to the chef making it. So food felt too much like an obvious prop for the Corporate American Dream come true.
In contrast are the films that left a mark. These I want to see again and again. The most personally touching for me is Like Water for Chocolate. Cooking is Tita's only form of personal expression, given the tightly controlled life she must live under her mother's strict and bitter eye. Heartbroken when she is not allowed to marry her true love, she pours all of her passion into her dishes. Throughout the scenes, the years, we see the labor of love, of desire, that her dishes are for her. This is done in such a poetic, sometimes humorous way, with the magical realism of Mexican cinema. Close-ups of the food, of her family savoring or rejecting it, of the warmth, emotionally and physically, of the kitchen, reminded me so much of my own memories of kitchen-dwelling days with Maria. One of her recipes, the quail in rose-sauce, comes to her through the voice of her now-deceased nanny, Natcha. Food reveals Tita's attachments to the people in her life. It does not feel like merely a prop, but an essential piece of her life, for better or worse. I get the sense that the author, Laura Esquivel, has a passion for cooking, because she includes recipes in the book.
And the movie Julie and Julia skillfully weaves between the lives of a modern-day young woman and her idol, Julia Child, through cooking. Cooking gives the main character Julie an anchor and focus on life, and of course, Meryl Streep is an amazing Julia Child. Not to mention those recipes look mouthwatering, and I really appreciated the cooking tips sprinkled throughout the film.
Another film that touches on this is Spanglish. The main character, a chef and dad played by Adam Sandler, feels sadly alienated by the trajectory his life is taking. A truly sage moment comes when he says that he dreads getting a star-rating of 4 stars for his restaurant. He describes how that rating "took the heart right out of the place [where he used to work as a cook]"...then upon seeing the fateful 4-star rating in the morning paper, he exclaims, "F**K YOU!" In short, he wanted food to continue to be a labor of love, a personal passion, not a vehicle for prestige. And somehow, I can relate to that. Maybe it's why I never want to open a restaurant. The pressure really freaks me out. And I wonder, how do the really successful folks, chefs and musicians and such artists, do it?
Even in films where food is not the central subject, it, or characters who prepare it, can still evoke powerful moments. Think of the Flan scene in Real Women Have Curves. Or the Noodle-Chef in Kung Fu Panda.
So my pattern seems to be, I lean toward films in which food underscores a personal quest, or one in which it appeals to the sense of smell, taste, and touch. These are the McGuffins I want to follow.
Favorite "food books":
Garlic and Sapphires
Strudel Stories
The Language of Baklava
Favorite Food Movies:
Like Water for Chocolate
Julie & Julia
On my list:
The Minimalist Cook
Tampopo
I welcome any further suggestions you may have for me by way of creative works and food.
Notes:
* though in the link, the reviewer adores the film. It somehow did something for him that it did not for me. Like the character of the critic in the film shows, maybe it really is fundamentally our own issues and preferences that makes a meal, a film, or any creative work, of interest...or not.
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