A Taste of Honey

Margot Mills (Anya Taylor-Joy) is not supposed to be dining out at Hawthorne. After all, a table at Hawthorne is amongst the most difficult reservations to land on the planet, held solely for the affluent, celebrities, and those with their own gravitational sphere of influence. From the moment she arrives at the esteemed remote island restaurant, Margot is out of place against the other diners. Esteemed critics, minor celebrities, finance bros – the usual suspects have gathered to taste the creations of Chef Slowik (Ralph Fiennes). And then there’s Margot. The worst part? She doesn’t even really like the food.

In Mark Mylod’s The Menu, a searing satire about status, social hierarchy, and Michelin-starred chefs, our relationship to food – and to each other – is butchered with delectable precision, making for a uniquely scrumptious black comedy that pulls few punches. A kind of twisted pairing of American Psycho and Ratatouille, The Menu is best described as a demented social thriller, designed for fans of the macabre and foodies who don’t take their chow-loving status so seriously. A performance-driven chamber piece, The Menu delivers on its culinary bonafides, offering a string of mouthwatering dishes (courtesy of collaborator Dominique Crenn, the chef at San Francisco’s three-Michelin-starred Atelier Crenn) amongst other striking production elements: the economic sets and character-driving costumes underscore the artistry of the meals and the not-so-subtle divide between the service industry and their patrons.

As an unabashed fan of the degustation experience, this viewer admired the craft of the cuisine (pretentious molecular gastronomy, for the most part) coming out of chef’s kitchen while being equally enthralled by the spot-on skewering of the industry. As the diners arrive at the island, hostess Elsa (Hong Chau, absolutely frigid in the role) gestures to a dingy just off the coastline. A fisherman labors to haul in the very scallops they’ll shortly be consuming. The guests titter with amusement. Margot rolls her eyes. Showing off their cultishly quaint living quarters, we get the impression that this far-flung destination dinner is more than meets the eye. The divide between the servants and the served couldn’t be more stark.

Mylod has a way of dressing the world’s elite down for a roasting, a skill likely honed during his tenure directing Succession episodes. Filtering that class dynamic through the lens of world class dining is an inspired choice and though screenwriters Seth Reiss and Will Tracy’s script could be a hair sharper in places, the broad strokes of this work sing with stunning potency. As Chef’s menu turns increasingly sinister, The Menu makes a meal out of uncomfortable silences, Chef’s pretentious oversharing, and the bloody horrors that ensue. From the tongue-in-cheek course descriptions to the increasingly stunned reactions to the menu, it’s quite simply a blast to be dining alongside Margot and company.

The other diners are an impressive ensemble themselves, including Nicolas Hoult as Tyler, a sycophantic foodie with a dark side (also Margot’s “benefactor”); Janet McTeer is Lillian, an insufferable food critic who leans heavily on adjectives like “clean” to describe the food; John Leguizamo lazily charms as an unnamed movie star with a string of bad movies to his credit; with Rob Yang, Acturo Castro, and Mark St. Cyr featuring as a trio of entitled finance bros who act like they own the joint. They all play their parts well, making for one of the year’s most purely entertaining collection of performers.

But, as the industry goes, it’s the man in the apron who steals the show and Ralph Fiennes is simply *chef’s kiss*. As good as it gets for the veteran performer, he’s perfectly suited for chef’s pissy, arrogant demeanor. He prattles on about resources and man’s relationship to food and his backstory, all with detectable poison on his breath. He is a man who commands respect and fear. He wants the title of world’s best restauranteur. Maybe deserves it. But beneath the pretense lays a pissy detachment. And Margot can smell that just as much as the broken emulsion on the “breadless” bread plate. This is not a man who cooks with love. As Margot rightly points out, his meals are the result of obsession. And obsession can be a dangerous thing in a man with a militant kitchen at the ready.

CONCLUSION: The Menu is a riotous dark satire that uses the upper-echelon of the food world to satirize class warfare. As if run through a Paco Jet, Ralph Fiennes delivers an icy tour-de-force as a mesmerizing, disturbed chef at the end of his rope. Full of twists and full-bellied laughs, consider ‘The Menu’ a dish that should be consumed immediately.