THE TASTE OF THINGS - Mark Reviews Movies

The Taste of Things, IFC Films

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Review by Mark Dujsik | December 12, 2023

In The Taste of Things, Dodin Bouffant (Benoît Magimel) has two great loves in his life: food and Eugénie (Juliette Binoche). That they overlap is likely not a coincidence, because Dodin is a gourmet, who understands the science and art of great cooking, and Eugénie is a cook, who understands the man for whom she works on such a foundational level that much of what could be said between them goes unspoken.

Thus, writer/director Tran Anh Hung's is about the bond between these two people and the food that has come to connect them. It's a simple but richly observed film in the way these two characters, as well as their understated relationship, come to life by way of the little things. We don't watch them fall in love, because they already are so and everything they do points to that fact, but we do get observe how fully they love each other—even if both of them are a bit too devoted to food and reserved about everything else to admit just how deep that bond has become.

The opening sequence tells us everything we need to know about the two, their passion for the culinary arts, and the subtle joy of being able to share that pursuit with each other. It's an extended scene of, obviously, cooking, but Tran doesn't simply show us the basics and the appetizing end results.

No, this film knows that these two characters have devoted their lives—now in the "autumn" years, as Dodin puts it later when he's trying to be the poet that Eugénie says he isn't—to food, so a simple montage just will not do to communicate and reflect that idea. Instead, the filmmaker devotes a lengthy sequence to preparation of, not one, but two meals, the serving of the latter one, and the sheer, sensual delight that comes with the eating of those multiple courses. What's impressive about the scene is how much it tells us about Dodin, Eugénie, and their relationship without ever abandoning talk of or the sights of food.

For here, we have Dodin—reading and taking notes from some recipe book, before helping out with the cooking—explaining the particulars of ingredients, flavors, and even wine pairings to Pauline (Bonnie Chagneau-Ravoire), the young niece of housekeeper Violette (Galatéa Bellugi), who, like Eugénie, lives in the servants' quarters of the gourmet's grand manor. The girl might be a prodigy, and given her surprisingly refined palate for someone so young and her obvious curiosity about cooking, Dodin and Eugénie both agree that an apprenticeship under their tutelage could pay off with the creation of a master chef in less than a decade.

All of this is for our benefit, too, because the sequence is explaining to us this process and these concepts as it progresses. It's necessary, because most of the cooking itself is done in relative silence. The kitchen of Dodin's estate runs like a finely tuned machine, because Eugénie knows exactly what Dodin wants and how to orchestrate his menu with exact timing. He trusts her implicitly with the task, and she respects him enough to perform it with all the knowledge and skill of her craft. Nothing about that needs to be said aloud. It's simply right there in the wordless actions.

Once the meal starts being served to Dodin's friends in the dining room, the silence continues, only broken by conversation that's ceased when the next course arrives and the moans of pleasure with each of the guests' initial bites. We're a bit envious of them.

The film, adapted from a novel by Marcel Rouff, doesn't have a plot, except for some business with a Eurasian prince, his attempt to impress Dodin, and the gourmet's ambitious plan to use the basics of French cooking to show the royal how actual cooking and menu-planning are accomplished. Ultimately, none of that matters to the story, which takes a late melancholy turn that renders even the minimal plotting irrelevant.

It's mostly about watching Dodin and Eugénie. They spend time together in the kitchen, discussing food and culinary theory, and occasionally talking around the fact that they have known each other for more than 20 years, have loved each other for a good chunk of that time, and aren't married, despite having the appearance of some of the most contented married couples one could hope to find.

He wants to marry Eugénie, but she appreciates the level of freedom the professional side of her relationship with Dodin affords her. Each understands the other's desire and respects, and after all, the arrangements of their personal relationship aren't without those other sensual pleasures. Dodin regularly visits Eugénie's room at night and finds the door open to or for him—not as often as he would like, he later admits. Eugénie wants Dodin to join her and often imagines him doing so—not fulfilling that dream as often as she would wish, she later admits, too.

It's all very subdued, even after third act turn and during its aftermath, and, when the focus is on that bond, quite lovely. Thankfully, the attention is often on this relationship, with Binoche playing Eugénie as equal parts gentle and strong-willed, while Magimel suggests a hard man who softened over the years—appreciating the ability to feed his friends and often awe-struck by his fortune of having Eugénie in his life.

This story does go in a slightly unexpected direction by the end. If it must head that way, Tran ensures that The Taste of Things remains as considered about the particulars of these two characters, as well as the truths they reveal through each other.

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