The Taste of Things

Why dont they make movies like this anymore? The beauty of the food, people and surroundings take you away on a sensory trip. I also miss this idealized depiction of love. Everything is so delikate and Beautiful. I recommend you to what this if you respect and appreciate the art of food preparations and the beauty of a life Long romance. The asthetic is so pleasing, everthing from birds chirping in an early morning vegetable garden, the Sound of the food simmering, all the fine pressed linen clothing, the coiffed hair, the reflection of warm sunlight on the Walls and copper pots, the wind in the flowers on the forest floor. Exquisite!

A leisurely, luminous portrait of love, culture and cuisine, The Taste of Things is a feast for the eyes. It's all about partnership through a shared passion, conveying feelings through fewer words and baked Alaska. With such deep themes and beautiful visuals, no wonder it's France's selection for this year's Academy Awards.

The Taste of Things is a tough movie to summarize. It's about so much more than its plot... but here goes. The film takes place entirely in a 19th century French manor, mostly in its warmly-lit, wood-accented kitchen and centers on the bonds between the characters. Dodin Bouffant (Benoit Magimel), an esteemed gourmet partly based on real-life gastronome Jean Brillat-Savarin, oversees the meal, helps with the cooking and visits with his group of friends. His partner in the kitchen, Eugenie (Juliette Binoche), beams as she whips up dozens of French culinary marvels. They have two assistants, who seem more like daughters, the teen Violette (Galatea Bellugi) and her niece Pauline (Bonnie Chagneau-Ravoire). This scene unfolds each day for years. The film follows Dodin's and Eugenie's romance as it evolves from unspoken partnership to marriage to separation by illness, as well as how the younger members of the kitchen grow.

Director Tran Anh Hung opens The Taste of Things with a 38-minute long tracking-shot scene of the characters preparing an intricate meal with zero technology (it is the 1880s, after all), relishing every step of the way. I found it so satisfying to watch that I didn't pay any heed to its length, though this may not be the case for some viewers, as the only lines said are "Put the veal in the oven" and a couple directions like this. I actually enjoyed getting to know the characters by watching what they do and observing their body language. There's many more scenes like this one, none 38 minutes long, though. The film does have a bit of a languid pace, which takes some getting used to and might not suit some viewers' taste (pun intended). The few events that happen outside the kitchen happen either in the bedroom, in the living room or the adjacent garden. On another note, Dodin and Eugenie's relationship is a centerpiece of this film, and Magimel and Binoche as Dodin and Eugenie spellbind with their subtle yet powerful acting and palpable bond. Dodin has proposed to Eugénie a number of times over their 20 years together, to no avail. She says marriage is not right for them, because their bond is one of mutual respect and tenderness. The openness with which they discuss love is rare in modern films, as is their clarity on the matter - truly a mature romance. Additionally, the interactions between Binoche and Chagneau-Ravoire as Pauline are a delight to watch. Pauline's passion for food is shown in a scene where she names each of the two dozen items in a dish and when she nearly cries after tasting a baked Alaska; Eugenie sees herself in the young girl and takes her under her wing. Jonathan Ricquebourg's mouth-watering and skillful cinematography - tracking people as if walking beside them, sometimes peering into pots, and sitting at the same table as Dodin's "suite" of friends - along with Tran Anh Huang's careful direction adds an indescribable realism to the film. It's a film that will make you hunger for more.

The Taste of Things is a film about indulgence - in food, in love, in family. It also shows viewers that truly powerful relationships are those that transcend labels and that are bound by shared love for one another and, in this case, a shared passion. It shows viewers that food is inextricably tied to love, life and joy. Be forewarned that the film does contain scenes with partial nudity and smoking.

I give The Taste of Things 4 out of 5 stars and recommend it for ages 12 to 18, plus adults. The Taste of Things releases on February 9, 2024 in theaters and is an Oscar nominee. By Eshaan M., KIDS FIRST!

During a time where food is rarely explored due to the demand for convenience and lack of energy that we're willing to provide, "The Taste of Things" invites audiences to transcend into a space that most of us have never known. Not only a space of pure romance in 1889, but one that is tied together with an equal adoration for the artistic and emotional nature of food, and the endless beauty that stems from the smallest details. Whether it's because Juliette Binoche and Benoît Magimel were married for 5 years in real life or simply because they're incredible actors, the chemistry and understanding for one another are potently sincere and encourage viewers to seek nothing less than what they're experiencing. Discover passion, meticulous care embedded under a foundation of years-long expertise, and a chase toward love that never ends even when most relationships do. The framework of a slow rotating camera, necessary silence, patient observation, and organic expression creates a tone that you can nearly taste. A delightful masterpiece by Anh Hung and one that I'm craving to see again.

"Dodin" (Benoît Magimel) and "Eugénie" (Juliette Binoche) have a synergy in the kitchen that creates mouthwatering and innovative culinary treats for their friends. She does the cooking, he more the design; she shuns the limelight, he is more gregarious - but it's a professional relationship that has worked well for the last two decades. It's probably fair to say that they are both a bit slow off the mark, but gradually now their relationship begins to become one of a more personal, intimate, nature but she is still uncertain. How to win her round? Well he starts to prepare delicacies to tempt both her palate and her heart. The path of truth love never runs smooth, though, and soon their dynamic is facing a testing time that will likely see unwelcome change for all concerned. What I actually liked about this film is that there's not a great deal of dialogue. It looks great and the two actors genuinely convince as they prepare their gourmet dishes using ingredients and techniques that are way more fascinating than the unfolding drama between their characters. You can almost smell the food! It also doesn't shy away from some of the culinary curiosities of rustic French cuisine, so be prepared for a few dishes that might not do for your appetite what they do for those on screen, but by two hours in I found myself genuinely invested in what I was watching - and very glad I'd eaten first. Cooking is an art form; so is good cinema - we get both here in abundance.

I am, I admit, a Crocodile Dundee cook - you can live on it, but it tastes like s*** Nevertheless, I revere those who are masters in the gastronomic arts.

Set in the 1870's, this film is a hymn to the pleasures of the table. The camera lingers lovingly over every pot and pan, every ingredient, every procedure, to the extent that it would have been wrong for the film to have been in any language but French. Anyone who can watch this film without salivating has no soul.

The plot is secondary to the food. Dodin (Benoit Magimel) is an expert, though amateur cook, whose hobby is hosting dinner-parties for a group of friends. For twenty years, Dodin has employed Eugenie (Juliette Binoche) as his cook, though she's far more than that. They sleep together, though she repeatedly declines his offers of marriage. Both performances are nigh-on perfect. There's also a young girl, the daughter of a neighbour, who has superlative taste-buds, and who wants to be taken on as an apprentice.

There's a bit more plot than that, including a comic dig at those who equate excess with excellence, but everything is subordinate to cooking and eating - and the actors do actually eat the food. One thing that grates with me is films where people don't actually eat the food in front of them.

I left the cinema hungry, and wishing that I had the patience and the dedication (and the time) to cook like that.

Oh, and though I grudgingly accept that, with the possible exception of the Chinese, the French are the finest cooks on Earth, I draw the line at ortolan.