Directed By Mark Mylod

Starring – Anya Taylor-Joy, Ralph Fiennes, Nicholas Hoult

The Plot – A couple (Taylor-Joy and Hoult) travels to a coastal island to eat at an exclusive restaurant where the chef (Fiennes) has prepared a lavish menu, with some shocking and deadly surprises.

Rated R for strong/disturbing violent content, adult language throughout and some sexual references

(1) THE MENU | Official Trailer | Searchlight Pictures – YouTube

POSITIVES

If “The Menu” is an ingestible delicacy, then its appetizing dish is that of the movie’s twisted humor in personality, which not only lures audiences in immediately with an audaciousness and depravity that were right up my alley of comfort food camaraderie, but also sets the pace for the script’s provocatively profound measures of deconstruction towards spoofing all aspects of the pretentiousness of foodie culture. However, unlike most spoofing sentiments pertaining to a particular class or grouping of people, the subtleties of its various effective punchlines are what nourishes here, instead balancing a dry and monotonous sense of deliveries that consistently tickled my funny bone from the commitment and confidence of its ensemble, in turn equally churning out a cohesiveness towards the film’s psychological thriller elements, which equally emit a mystique and unnerving emphasis towards its environment that keep your eyes glued at all times. From there, the next entree gifts itself in the direction from Mylod, who whisks us away to a presentation of fine tastes and silver spoon elegance that capably immerses us in the wealth of riches that the many characters disperse like candy. The visual spectrum is intoxicated by the lavish seduction of an entire menu come to life in the cinematography, with each course receiving a title card and thorough close-ups straight out of a cooking show. Likewise, the subtleties of the sound design sneak up on you in ways that audibly illustrate the disposition of its customers, charging through a rampant echoing of clapping and cult-like chanting that only further elevate the tension inside of these initially comfortable surroundings of the film’s dominant setting. This is even further extended to the production designs involving art and set decoration, which immediately invite us into this world, while also painting a false sense of security for the unpredictability’s of what’s to come. When the main dish is delivered, it’s dominated by one of the most complete and endearing ensembles of the entire year, but one with a few pieces that stand above the rest. Fiennes knocks it out of the park with a nefariously commanding presence who carries power behind such soft spoken dialogue, Taylor-Joy asserts herself as the eyes and the ears of the audience among a group of snobs, without ever sacrificing the mystique of her character’s ambiguity, and Hong Chau might’ve just been my single favorite performance, with a meticulous composure and unapologetic salaciousness that continuously cuts the tension with a knife, while conveying that something sinister is constantly afoot within this sought after establishment. Finally, desert is served in the form of the many shape-shifting occasions of the aforementioned screenplay, which diverts away from predictability every twenty minutes or so to supplant something far more enlightening than just social humility. This tucks away the social commentary to where it’s still persistent in the many conversations and interactions of these victims, but definitely taking a backseat, instead injecting the film with profound measures of thematic impulses pertaining to inner happiness and clarity that I truly wasn’t expecting, but one that supplanted a meaningful essence to the cuts it was making to its commentary, both literally and figuratively. It’s not attained in the most natural of methods, but it does invoke an internal urgency to the audience that I truly wasn’t expecting, working wonderfully with the balance of chaotic battle for power at the forefront of the movie’s narrative, leading to one of the most truly unforgettable endings that I have seen since “Midsommar”.

NEGATIVES

While the film maintains mostly smooth consistency of pacing throughout a 100-minute run time, the beginning of the second act was slightly a bit too sedated and stalled narratively for my personal tastes. During this section, the dialogue becomes a little lazier, with obviousness to intention marring some of the authenticity of the speech patterns, and explanations of what’s truly happening removing some of the aforementioned mystique of the first act that at the very least kept me constantly invested. For my money, the film definitely should explain some of this, but where it goes wrong is in the why of who is assembled, making each of the victims feel like underdeveloped and randomized collateral damage, instead of the intended motivation that motivated Chef’s internal madness. Besides this, my only other problem with the film pertained to some of the lack of believability required to go along with the journey of the narrative, which at its very least feels cloaked in the kind of convenience that I can’t overlook. Matters are explained well enough, or even overtly, as previously mentioned, but with the conflict between Taylor-Joy and Fiennes, as well as the film’s climax involving everyone in agreement, everything feels a bit too shallow and underdeveloped, leaving me wondering if a few scenes were cut from the finished product to maintain the importance of the run time.

OVERALL
“The Menu” is a seven-course meal that doesn’t always go down smoothly but does elicit a fierce combination of psychological thrills and twisted black humor to satisfy the savage in all of us. With an extensively gifted ensemble overriding the occasional limitation in characterization, as well as Mylod’s intentionally pretentious commanding hand gifting us edible pornography in the form of many savory dishes, the film deconstructs materialism through the eyes of a disenchanted profession, and one whose vengeance cuts like the sharpest knife in the drawer.

My Grade: 7/10 or B