Showing posts with label Reed Birney. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Reed Birney. Show all posts

Tuesday, November 22, 2022

The Menu

Burn Apetit
or
If You Can't Stand the Haute, Get Out of the Kitchen

The Hawthorne is an exclusive restaurant with a very pricey cover fee. Run by the renowned celebrity Chef Julian Slowik (Ralph Fiennes), it is settled on an island, accessible only by boat. Margot Mills (Anya Taylor-Joy) accompanies foodie and Slowik fan-boy Tyler (Nicholas Hoult), who is clearly obsessed with the idea of a once-in-a-lifetime meal planned, produced and executed by his idol, but Margot is clearly underwhelmed, especially as Tyler admonishes her for smoking ("It ruins the palate") and when she finds out she is the second choice for Tyler's "plus one"—a revelation that annoys both her and the Hawthorne's captain, Elsa (Hong Chau) for disturbing the already determined guest list—she is really cheesed off. "No substitutions", evidently.
 
The dinner party is an odd mix of patrons and customers, all rich, influential and privileged: there's food critic Lillian Bloom (Janet McTeer)—an early champion of Slowik's work—and her editor Ted (Paul Adelstein); actor George Diaz (John Leguizamo)—"I'm in the 'presenter" phase of my career"—and his assistant Felicity (Aimee Carrero); frequent customers Richard Liebbrandt (Reed Birney) and his wife Anne (Judith Light); then there's the trio of tech investors Soren, Bryce, and Dave (Arturo Castro, Rob Yang, Mark St. Cyr) associated with Slowik's "sugar-daddy" (and the island's owner). Oh. And there's "Chef's" mother (Rebecca Koon), who doesn't get past the drinks portion of the meal (you've got to stick with what works).
Twelve guests. Same as "The Last Supper." Hmm.
 
Given these ingredients, The Menu is an odd little concoction, not to everyone's taste. A mixture of horror, comedy—black humor varietal—satire, social commentary, it may come across as not exciting enough for horror buffs and not biting enough for those looking for depth and some looking for escapism might find it an bit pretentious, even though pretension is one of its main ingredients and one of its main targets.
All the guests have paid thousands of pretty pennies to have such a grand meal—the market exclusivity being part of the charm and "the point" for them—even if the night's fare is a complete mystery to those paying for the privilege. But, Chef Slowik is going to be going completely off-menu for the night, his chefs and sommeliers planning something special for just these particular guests. And if you think you know what's going to happen from glancing at the trailers—trapped guests, dinner experience, weird chef—you've seen too many movies and you're wrong. The movie isn't catered by Hannibal Lecter and there are no jokes about ladies' fingers and giving someone a piece of your mind.
The horror isn't that straight-forward, but it's certainly macabre. The meals, in their courses, are edible—if not particularly palatable—certainly not poisonous and prepared with a precision that is regimental and over-the-top in its elaborateness. The presentation is impeccable, with Chef delivering a monologing introduction by way of explanation for the reasoning, if not the logic, behind each course. The price tag is part of the appeal and so no one complains if the ingredients are odd, the portions small (if non-existent), and the appetite is unsatisfied. As Chef informs one of the guests: "You'll get more than you desire and less than you deserve."
One could say the same for the audience, but I don't want to be too unfair. There are joys. Ralph Fiennes gets all the best lines and he makes the most of them, creating another lovely monster that manages to convey vulnerability and a certain piteousness. But, the film centers around Anya Taylor-Joy's Margot—some might think too much—and the actor is endlessly fascinating to watch. I won't say that she's making a career of victim-warriors, but that seems to be where she's ending up these days, one can't argue with the "deer-in-the-headlights" eyes and the rebel "attitude" the actress exudes. But, the "Margot" character becomes an integral part of the puzzle—why is she there? why does she cause such a stir among the restaurant staff? why does Chef subject her to such scrutiny and (er) grilling? Why does anyone care? About her?
The movie plays fair and doesn't pull some surprise Agatha Christie-backstory-reveal for her, but she is the movie's hinge, and appropriately so, not only in the story's unfolding logic sense (such as it is) and its underpinnings of social commentary, so it's a good thing that Taylor-Joy is so good. You keep watching her when mysteries like Chef's "No Trespassing" headquarters, and the increasingly bizarre courses make you raise doubts about what is going on. Taylor-Joy grounds it.
The movie needs her. Because with all those black humor touches, satiric thrusts, and social conceits, the movie threatens to float off in its own hot air. On the surface level, The Menu just does not work if one is looking for story sense, story logic, and any sense of realism. It's pretensions would not play out if it did. No. One has to think of the thing as an absurdist farce, the kind that if people behaved normally, nothing would happen (but because they have this "weakness" of character blah-blah-blah).
In fact, it "works" better, and even brilliantly, if one thinks of it as a feature-length version of Monty Python's "Restaurant" sketch (where the staff melts down and begin to attack the customers who complain of "a dirty fork"). Of course, the idea is absurd. Of course, things wouldn't play out like this, but the play is dependent on the contrivance if it is to exist at all. Part of that is the price we pay for "suspense" to accept the high dudgeon and heightened melodrama (staples of horror), to have the fun of the experience by suspending our belief.

Given that thought, The Menu is more than entertaining and has an interesting resolution...which...again..."shouldn't" work, but is interesting psychologically and played brilliantly...and to a thesis the film-makers are trying to make between the qualities of service-providers versus service-takers. It is satisfying, but don't expect anything that doesn't leave a disquieting taste. It just isn't on The Menu.

Friday, November 12, 2021

Mass (2021)

Thoughts and Prayers/Tantrums and Stares
or
My Truth and Reconciliation with Andre

Everybody's nervous. Judy (Breeda Wool), the administrator of the Episcopal Church is over-thinking and over-fretting. Should there be refreshments? She has too much. How should the chairs be positioned? Is the table alright? Will the noise from the church above—music lessons, choir practice—be a distraction? How about the decorations? Too much? She wants to help, but perhaps too much. Things are the way they are, and she's reassured by the social worker (Michelle N. Carter) that everything's fine. It will be fine. Don't change anything. It is what it is. They're ready. After all this time, they're ready.
 
The place may be ready, but not the participants. At this stage of the game, they all have doubts. And fears. Oh, the legalities have been taken care of. Whatever is said, can't be used in court against any of the parties; all those potentialities have been waived and agreed to by all. But, do they want to do it? Still? After all this time? What can be gained (after so much loss)? What is the point of it?
It's probably Richard (Reed Birney), who has insisted on the legalities. He seems the most defensive, the most guarded, and, right off the bat, indicates that he has some place he's going to have to go. His wife, Linda (Ann Dowd), however, is anything but. She has brought flowers for the others, the only one not empty-handed. And she is solicitous, forthcoming, open where Richard is reserved. She is the least reticent of them all and seems to be the one most in need.
The others are the Perrys, Gail (Martha Plimpton) and Jay (Jason Isaacs), middle-class (by the looks of it) and, each with an agenda but not sure how they'd get there. They are angry, but they've been angry for years, and they've tamped down their bitterness and it's come to this. Now, maybe they'll get answers. Answers to why their son is dead from a school shooting. Why Richard and Linda's son shot him.
Mass, the first film by actor-writer-director Fran Kranz, couldn't be more simple: four people in a room trying to figure out what happened, and trying to figure out each other. The way to negotiate that mine-field and get answers (if they can be found or understood). Four people, two couples, facing each other and the event that they share. It's as claustrophobic as could be and Kranz, in that limited space, has as much room to maneuver as he would if he were filming a court-room scene—the drama is on the faces and the choices he makes in framing, cutting have to be precise and pointed.
Fortunately, he has four extraordinary actors doing exceptional work; Birney, Dowd, Plimpton and Isaacs are photographed from the waist up, due to that table, and there is no place to hide, anything false will be betrayed by the camera. And every hesitation, eye-flick, every avoidance is as detectable to us as it is to the participants. We get to see the redness come into the eyes or the scowl deepen. There is no escape from the concentration of the gaze as they search for some meaning to it all, search for the beginnings of it, try to explain it, and relive it in all its horror and implications. They've been dealing with it for years. Now, they have to learn to live with it and each other.
It is edge-of-your-seat drama, but without histrionics and melodrama, and the tension already built in to the setting and the situation. It is slowly uncoiling the past, confronting mistakes and missteps, signs ignored or just fallen through the cracks, deciding the blame if blame can be found, and trying to make sense of senseless acts.
There is no politics here, science is brought up but fails, and, in the end, nothing will change, the dead can't be brought back, but a future might be salvaged. To what end?
The performances are extraordinary and may be the best ensemble work of the year, each actor allowed their run through the gauntlet, but it's the cumulative effect that your remember. And you'd have to be made of stone to make it through the movie without tears being shed. For everybody.