From the opening moments of Tran Anh Hung’s sumptuous new film The Taste of Things (2023), we understand this is not your typical cinematic culinary experience. A glorious 38-minute sequence of its central characters, esteemed cook Eugénie (Juliette Binoche), gourmet chef and partner Dodin Bouffant (Benoît Magimel), as well as teenage assistants Violette (Galatéa Bellugi) and Pauline (Bonnie Chagneau-Ravoire), preparing a gastronomical adventure for a dinner party, is almost the antithesis of American kitchen dramas like The Bear and Boiling Point. The motions are smooth and articulate, and the pace is casual but never languid. Tran is keenly aware that an audience will be salivating over this high execution of French cuisine and intrigued by its characters, desiring to know more than just how to get their hands on a plate. The lack of score and dynamic sounds throughout this sequence and the film as a whole allows the quiet expression of the art of cooking and eating to dance across the screen.
Based on the popular French novel The Passionate Epicure (1920), written by Marcel Rouff, The Taste of Things operates closer to a prequel to the novel, expanding on and inhabiting this merging of equals between Eugénie and Dodin. Their relationship plays out in a slow simmer across the film, with Tran’s camera dancing calmly between their cooking and intimate dialogue scenes, while remaining an impressively clear eye for both situations as an opportunity to explore the characters. Binoche has always been an extraordinary screen presence and the film relishes in that from entrée to dessert.
Like a perfectly cooked meal at a dinner party, it is impossible to avoid becoming entranced in the moment-to-moment treasures of this charming film. From the opening frames, we are taught to embrace the pleasant ambience of crackling pork fat and the sizzling butter, allowing its narrative to surprise you like the pang of spice in a seemingly gentle soup. There is a simple plot of Dodin being invited to a prince’s palace that boasts one of the best chefs in the world (played by three-star chef and the film’s culinary consultant Pierre Gagnaire), whose response is to return serve with an invitation of his own, but Tran is only tepidly interested in this space. He is more keenly preoccupied with the relationship found between Eugénie and Dodin, a pair of incredible artists who want for life and to share their love of food and cooking with others.
A gentle smile between Magimel and Binoche, during a gorgeously romantic dinner where Dodin cooks for Eugénie, simply melts your heart. The air of trepidation and expectation before someone eats the first bite of a meal you’ve sought to perfect is a difficult moment to reflect on screen and is perhaps the film’s greatest accomplishment. This powerful moment is achieved through the chemistry both behind and in front of the camera, from Binoche and Magimel, to cinematographer Jonathan Ricquebourg and director Tran Anh Hung, and importantly, culinary consultant Gagnaire who designed an extraordinary menu for the film.
The Taste of Things feels closely tied to Kelly Reichardt’s recent wonder Showing Up (2022), a gentle but honest depiction of the day-to-day craft of creativity and creation through the eyes of a sculptor. The camera weaves in and out of the patient crafting of stock and demi-glace alongside a spread of different meats, learning more and more about the characters in the kitchen as they prepare and cook. French cuisine is all about patience and simplicity, seeking bite-sized perfection from a large base, which is emulated in the filmmaking style on display.
Culinary and gastronomy nerds will savour the glancing mentions of famed chefs Carême and Escoffier, placing the film directly within the deep history of French cuisine and gastronomy. The Taste of Things could operate perfectly at any time, but there is an evocative nature to the period setting of the film, particularly inside the world of the kitchen.
Much like Dodin’s decision to serve pot-au-feu (simple but delicious slow-cooked meat and veg) to the prince, the film’s narrative is simple and elegant with an undercurrent of complexity and nuance that heightens each scene, even when you know the destination. What allows us to connect with this simple narrative is Tran’s use of time, executed through a near-constant camera motion, weaved with some of the most seamless editing by Mario Barristel that you’ll see this year.
In its transcendent final sequence, the total emulsion comes together to leave you wholly satisfied. The combination of contrasting natural lighting, echoes of its rigorous but delicate opening sequence, and the compelling performances of Binoche and Magimel heightens the crescendo to a point of potency that arrives unexpectedly on the palate. The Taste of Things gives you just enough narrative and plot on your plate to satisfy, but it is this unique focus on naturalism and craft that is the aftertaste you are left with.
However, this is not a film of food porn extravagance, there is a compelling world of emotion and relationships steeped below. Like the perfect demi-glace, the most important component is time and patience. Give this film both and you’ll be richly rewarded.
The Taste of Things is in select theatres now.
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