Dining on Class Warfare in ‘The Menu’
Seth Reiss and Will Tracy’s script meticulously filets an ideological cut of meat straight from the table of lower-middle class America. But rather than serve the meal to the viewer in melodramatic fashion, it’s dressed with wit and a dash of sharp le
What better way to explore the fractious relationship between the privileged and common than through the service industry, itself?
SPOILERS AHEAD
Some of the most magical moments in cinema come when you’re least expecting it. I’d seen the trailer for Mark Mylod’s The Menu in front of every single film the last few months—but at no point did any excitement bubble further in my mind. It didn’t look bad, no, instead it looked exceedingly exquisite. But with so many other titles releasing as we wrap the end of the year, I thought to myself “…do I really need to see it immediately or even in a theater?” And if I’d known then that Mylod’s film was so much more than what the trailer led on, it would have been first on my list to see. That’s to say that The Menu is one of this year’s finest pictures, and among my personal favorites in the last few years. Seth Reiss and Will Tracy’s script meticulously filets an ideological cut of meat straight from the table of lower-middle class America. But rather than serve the meal to the viewer in melodramatic fashion, it’s dressed with wit and a dash of sharp levity.
“I need to know if you’re with us or with them,” Chef Slowik (Ralph Fiennes) pleads to Anya Taylor-Joy’s Margot.
Just recently, I began to update the aesthetic of my apartment beginning with the bathroom and set out on Black Friday to scavenge the best deals on towels, wall art, and decor. At checkout, I’d find myself carefully setting the items to easily be scanned on the counter rather than simply tossing them. Not many people seemed to care much, nor was I seeking any attention, but eventually a cashier abruptly stopped scanning the items. She gazed onward while I continued to flip the items towards the register tag-first before finally saying, “No one has done this yet or thanked me.” She went on to say that she expected people to be nicer over Thanksgiving weekend but it was quite the opposite from her experience. It was roughly 9pm by the time I had gotten to the checkout isle, which means she’d gone the whole day without a single act of kindness. How is anyone supposed to tolerate working in service of others?
The truth is that I, too, have felt the misery of servicing the customer in nearly all of the industries I’ve worked in. Now, before I proceed to explain how any of this is relevant to The Menu, it would be fair to identify the irony in the point I’m trying to make. We are at a pinnacle of dissent among the working class here in America. A recent Gallup poll found that 71% of Americans approve of labor unions; the highest it has been in decades. Young constituents have found a common enemy in corporate America and the status quo—many of whom despise the norms associated with being middle-class. The lies spewing from our crumbling institutions convinced an entire generation that to be successful one needed higher education with no consideration on the economic burden; it’s costly to live, but it’s even more expensive to live with degree—the supposed key to becoming “one of them.”
Yet, this pursuit to achieve a “traditional” life remains steady, even for those who criticize the normative behavior. After all, even I am in the process of updating my apartment aesthetic to match what I believe to be acceptable from a middle-class perspective and erase the truth of my childhood. Ethan Tobman’s work on the production design in The Menu reminded me of the very same erasure of identity—laden behind a world-class meal prep arena. “I wanted the kitchen to feel ecclesiastical,” Tobman says. “I wanted him [Chef Slowik] to feel like he was preaching from a pulpit.” So while we may arrive at Hawthorn on a remote island with the likes of Tyler (Nicholas Hoult), Lillian (Janet McTeer), the Movie Star (John Leguizamo), and Richard (Reed Birney) [among others], we leave alongside Margot with a deeper appreciation for Chef Slowik—shifting the power dynamic from the most renowned individuals to the essential worker.
A deconstruction of an entire class ideology—made possible only by the technical ingenious of the crew and enthralling performances from Ralph Fiennes and Anya Taylor-Joy.
Peter Deming captures the allure of dining in an elusive restaurant for $1,250 a head with the top 1% through his cinematographic lens, evoking a sense of dread even before the tables are turned on Hawthorn’s patrons to reveal a truth many workers share: they’d rather give their lives than service the ungrateful. You might think that this means they don’t enjoy what they do, but it’s quite the opposite actually. Margot is able to escape by asking Chef Slowik for a true, American cheeseburger after investigating his quarters to find he, at one point, loved the simplicity of cooking. After all, it’s what his entire career was founded on. Chef Slowik’s menu, exquisitely designed by Tobman and real-life chef Dominque Crenn, yearns for simplicity and playfulness. Adjectives that are not often accompanied with Michelin-star meals.
Whether it’s a breadless bread platter, laser engraved tortillas, or a real life s’more, the team behind The Menu continuously raised the bar in production design; but the art design and set decoration from Lindsey Moran and Gretchen Gattuso complete the finished look with an eloquent glaze—paving the way for the vital transition between a ravishing retreat for the privileged and their worst nightmare. Chef’s Table, but bloodier and much more horrific. Hawthorn’s sheik interior allures its victim’s with the utmost basic desire for class and cultural relevance in which only the lower working class would utterly despise. Margot’s un-comfortability in this environment leads to a few fantastic gags with Tyler and Chef Slowik, where she inevitably exposes her truth about whose side she belongs to. My theater was horrified and shocked all at once during numerous sequences, and it made for one of the best viewing experiences of the year.
Mylod spoke with Collider about how the whole filmmaking team approached the world of food and beverage with a mashup of tones, saying:
…I think satire works best from a position of authenticity. And perhaps more emotionally important for me was I never wanted, even though I'm poking at the excesses of that particular art form in that world, I never wanted to be disrespectful to the people that actually work and work so damned hard because man do people work hard in that industry.
We often discuss intention within filmmaking, and it appears that the intent was to respect those who tirelessly provide care for, and service, others. And it’s achieved by sculpting a thrilling, deconstructive satire via the eyes of the working class. While we all try and avoid becoming the extreme of our discontent, both like and unlike Chef Slowik, it’s important to understand that even success might not be enough to rectify the years of torment. So what, you have that degree. You got the job. You’re considered one of the greatest chefs in modernity at one of the most prestigious restaurants in the world. Can you stomach the blatant disrespect from the people who wield the power?
The Menu suggests that it doesn’t need to be tolerated—albeit without roasting an entire restaurant of patrons into human s’mores.