The Menu is a movie about, well, a menu. At restaurants that cost less than one hundred American dollars for a meal, a menu usually means a document (or QR code) that shows what dishes the restaurant has available, so that each diner can choose the meal they want for themselves. The menu in The Menu is different — it refers to a predetermined series of courses that all of the diners will eat. Being freed from choosing between the chicken and the steak comes at a premium. We learn early on that dinner at Hawthorne, Chef Slowik’s restaurant, costs $1,250 a head.
As the film unfolds, we learn that Chef Slowik (a very committed Ralph Fiennes) is very committed to a dining experience focused on a single menu for all diners. One of the reasons why he elaborately drowns his angel investor in front of his guests is that his patron had the temerity to ask for substitutions, when, as Chef yells “THERE ARE NO SUBSTITUTIONS.” The movie, itself, is also very committed to the structure of the menu.The film is structured around a literal menu, with each vignette labeled according to the course being served in the film. This rigid structure makes it especially surprising that this film is such a mess. It is a satire, but it starts out in gentle foodie foible territory, not too far from the skit in season one of Portlandia, where Carrie Brownstein and Fred Armisen have a long conversation with the server about the chicken they are about to eat. It moves from there into quirky rich people stuck together on an island – the same archipelago as Glass Onion, pretty much. From there, the movie takes a hard left turn into something that looks a lot like Se7en, what with a sociopath doling out his own gory version of poetic justice. It is a satire, but this thematic incoherence makes it hard to decide who or what is the target of the satire.
For people who go to high-end restaurants on the regular, or who follow along vicariously in Instagram, there are jokes. Michelin-starred badass Dominique Crenn was deeply involved in making the film, and it shows. The first course on the menu invites diners to “eat the sea,” via hand-harvested scallops served on local stones with frozen sea water, a clear nod to René Redzepi’s legendary (and soon to close) Noma. Near the end of the film, Chef presents the diners with a goodie bag of parting gifts, including Hawthorne’s signature granola, a gesture patrons of NYC’s Eleven Madison Park will recognize.
That said, for a movie that bills itself as a dark, satiric comedy about fine dining, there is remarkably little concern for how the food gets on the plate. Labor practices in fancy restaurants are notoriously bad, and The Menu barely touches this issue. The traditional haute French restaurant kitchen operates on what is called the brigade system, and The Menu pushes this notion to — and beyond — its logical extreme. The cooks work 20-hour days, and live in a barracks that makes the one in Full Metal Jacket look cozy. Pretty much all we hear from the cooks are “Yes, Chef,” and “No, Chef.” In terms of individual personalities, they might as well be Stormtroopers on the Death Star.
The most interesting parts of the movie seem to be there almost by accident, and involve sex work and cheeseburgers. (Some spoilers to follow; consider yourself forewarned.) Margo (Anya Taylor-Joy), who is there as there as wannabe Tyler’s (Nicholas Hoult) last-minute date, turns out to be there in a professional capacity as an escort, and Richard, one of the other diners, recognizes her because he has also been one of her clients. She was not supposed to be there, and her presence throws Chef off. Margo and Chef go back and forth, as they consider if she belongs with the “givers” in the kitchen, or the “takers” in the dining room. There is almost nothing Hollywood loves as much as trafficking in cliches about sex workers, but The Menu is restrained. Margo is neither a hooker with a heart of gold, nor a coldblooded grifter.
The tension between Chef and Margo creates space for the cheeseburger, arguably the biggest star of the film. Over the course of the film, Chef announces each course with a thunderous clap of his hands. Margo claps her hands, tells Chef she’s hungry, and demands a cheeseburger. Earlier in the film, Margo spots a picture of a younger, happier, non-homicidal Chef flipping a burger, and the request is hypnotic. Chef cooks the burger, Margo takes a bite, then asks for the rest to go, which is how she becomes the only character to survive the mass murder-suicide S’mores course. The film closes with Margo on a boat, watching Hawthorn burn as she resumes eating her cheeseburger, wiping her mouth on Chef’s menu. There is a lot you can say about a young woman who is an actor and a model eating a cheeseburger, — and someone on Twitter has probably said it — but suffice it to say that it is food for thought.
There is a moment in the Public Enemy song “Burn Hollywood Burn” when Chuck D mentions that instead of going to see Driving Miss Daisy, he has “Black Caesar back at the crib,” to which Flavor-Flav responds “That’s the idea we should have rolled with from the beginning.” Instead of watching The Menu, the idea you should have rolled with from the beginning would be to have your local bookstore order you a copy of Down and Out in Paris and London, George Orwell’s account of working in the bowels of fancy restaurants, find out where you can stream Ratatouille, and grill up a nice cheeseburger for yourself.
Jonathan Beecher Field was born in New England, educated in the Midwest, and teaches in the South. He Tweets professionally as @ThatJBF, and unprofessionally as @TheGurglingCod. He also sometimes writes for Avidly and Common-Place.
