Love is precious and pure. Love is both personal and universal. It’s the way it makes us feel, the way we react, the way we smile, and the way we care for each other. Love is complicated, as it will expand your heart and break it. In Tran Anh Hung’s The Taste of Things, love is food and the silence that’s nestled between two chefs who long to feed each other. Is it fear that holds them back? But their silence is a thousand words crashing through their thick barriers.
For close to 40 minutes in silence, we watch their love pour into each other as they and their two assistants prepare a feast in a kitchen Gordon Ramsey would envy. Vegetables are chopped, meat is prepared, and seasonings are grounded, as acidity and sweetness are perfectly balanced. The camera never moves as each person turns raw ingredients into a meal worth drooling over. Everyone is filled with happiness and focus as they chop, grill, and knead. The silence continues as they dine on their masterpieces, savoring each morsel. They are pleased with the food’s outcome, and we are envious for not being offered a bite.
There is no mindless chatter here as we observe through their body language what their roles are in the kitchen and with each other. Dodin Bouffant (Benoît Magimel) makes sure every dish is cooked perfectly, also joining in on the cooking and making sure the guests are comfortable. Eugénie (Juliette Binoche), his equal, is all joy and in her element as she bounces around from pot to pan. There is no recipe here, as she operates on feeling and skill. She smiles, satisfied by her accomplishments. The two assistants, teenage girls Violette (Galatéa Bellugi) and Pauline (Bonnie Chagneau-Ravoire), make sure every instruction is followed as they take meticulous mental notes. Pauline is a gifted gastronomist, able to name every ingredient in a broth by its taste. Eugénie and Dodin are excited by her culinary possibilities.
The Taste of Things is Tran Anh Hung’s love letter to food and those who take pleasure in creating meals and eating them. Based on the novel The Passionate Epicure by Marcel Rouff, the movie is a slow-burning stew about desire and longing. Eugénie and Dodin, both love each other; after working 20 years together in the kitchen, they know each other’s movements like a dance. They are each other’s equals in the kitchen and in life. But there is a sense of restraint from Eugénie, who accepts Dodin’s nightly bed visits but refuses to take their relationship to the next level. She turns down his repeated marriage proposals. He accepts her as she is, even if that doesn’t mean marriage. Cooking together is their marriage, and as they teach Violette and Pauline about life and food, they are, in a way, a family.
What’s most refreshing about The Taste of Things is that this is a movie about self-assured adults confident in their abilities and with each other. There aren’t any lingering questions or uneasiness about their feelings for each other. Everyone knows what they want and expresses it without shame or codes. Dodin fiercely loves Eugénie. He’s kind and gentle with her. He cares for her and watches over her as a protector. Even though Eugénie doesn’t want to marry him, she loves what they have together and is afraid that is changing, especially how her role as a woman could shift in the 1920s. She is independent, and that’s what Didon loves about her, yet he has desires of his own too.
Tran Anh Hung treats the Jules Massenet script with respect. Never rushing the story or its devasting moment, it unfolds naturally and realistically, focusing on the power of food and love. Cinematographer Jonathan Ricquebourg further brings out the movie’s gentleness by focusing on the beauty and art of food preparation, allowing the viewers to watch the many stages of cooking. It peeks through the corners and peers in during the peaceful moments Dodin and Eugénie spend alone with each other. The movie feels comforting; it’s their home but also ours as they allow the viewers in. The old-fashion house and old-style cooking equipment are a reminder of simpler times before digitized stoves and microwaves took over our everyday lives. They shop for produce in their garden rather than a smart refrigerator telling you what supplies you’re low on. Recipes are studied and memorized instead of Googled.
The Taste of Things is a feat. More than a food movie, it celebrates life and the people who live to eat. Often times, I found myself hungry, not just for the recipes but also for the simple things in life. But the food is scrumptious, and every broth, pastry, meat, and vegetable made me wish I was in the room with them, sample each dish.
This is a love letter to food and the people who ground us and keep our appetite satiated. It’s one of our basic needs; it makes us feel whole and loved. Didon and Eugénie are the embodiments of that love, and how they love each other, feed each other, and desire each other is how we should all feel about life. Like cooking, every thought and action are intentional and necessary. Being present and mindful in the kitchen and with each other is a lost art that I’m pleased this movie has found.
