‘The Taste Of Things’ Review – An Understated And Beguiling French Delight

What if one of the year’s most sensuous scenes took place at a stove?

The Taste of Things (La Passion de Dodin Bouffant in French) opens with its dynamic cooking duo of chef Eugénie (Juliette Binoche) and gourmet Dodin Bouffant (Benoît Magimel) preparing a sumptuous dish for a group of visitors to their restaurant. They move in thrilling concert with each other, with their chemistry in the kitchen suggesting a more intimate connection. However, the romantic possibilities whisper at the edges. The food matters to them and us: the richly marinated meats, meticulously prepared vegetables, decadent pastries, and desserts. The glorification of such delicious-looking cuisine for so long, without the opportunity to sample it ourselves, is almost obscene. Obscenity tends to demand attention; The Taste of Things wants our most rapturous.

The opening sequence does more than just pay tribute the pleasures of cooking. With it, filmmaker Trần Anh Hùng introduces the idea of the culinary arts as powerful expressions of love and innovation and the intimate relationship they can share. From that first on-screen dish, Eugénie and Dodin’s partnership is one of deep mutual respect and clear communication. The two challenge and refine their work to achieve the best possible meal, but there is no ego in the preparation. Their unique union of creativity and admiration has made them the toast of European cuisine, a team that demands the attention of the rich and the royal. However, both are aware that their culinary union isn’t everlasting. Eventually, someone must take the reins from them. And so, Eugénie and Dodin seek an apprentice to follow in her footsteps, someone who could attempt to match her gifts and bring his meticulous dishes to life.

Their ephemeral connection translates to their personal lives. Dodin and Eugénie are longtime lovers, but Eugénie insists their romance remains casual. She may be modest, but she wants her independence. Dodin, however, has long loved his culinary partner. You might expect the film to use the romantic impasse as its narrative thrust. Hùng resists the impulse to the film’s benefit. Eugénie and Dodin’s relationship is a refreshing blend of maturity and playfulness, with easy banter and a simmering heat that feels familiar and not stale. The only form of plot misdirection comes from Dodin’s plan to surprise Eugénie with his own prepared dish, a stark departure from their routine. The scene, which Hùng stages beautifully with warm hues and lingering takes on Eugénie, speaks volumes of their mutual affection. It also shows that long-term relationships still can surprise and delight, even through ostensibly small gestures.

Dodin and Eugénie must eventually confront that life is finite and that their search for an apprentice carries personal ramifications. Again, Hùng renders the couple’s trials and aftermath with the same grace as their triumphs. However, he makes sure we feel the pain of these moments. It’s in the stark blues and greys that contrast the yellows and greens that signaled Dodin and Eugénie’s bloom as a committed couple. Their thoughtfully meticulous routine is thrown precariously off-rhythm, and numbness supplants Dodin’s settled confidence. The structural and narrative restraint is welcomed. Dodin and Eugénie’s love was deep but calm; meeting the couple on their terms adds to the profundity of their relationship.

Together, Benoît Magimel and Juliette Binoche have immaculate chemistry: teasing, inviting, sensual, and irresistibly warm. You fully believe that they are in sync on a cosmic level, and have been for decades. They are equally impactful on their own. Magimel has a deliciously droll sensibility that adds a sharp tang to some of the film’s surprisingly cutting dialogue. (He pairs it with an impeccable look of unimpressed disappointment at his wealthy patrons.) He tempers it, though, with an open-hearted passion for the dishes Dodin creates, and Binoche. Speaking of, Binoche practically floats across the screen, sparkling no matter what light casts on her. She plays Eugénie with a self-aware but uncynical spirit, unassuming because she knows she’s captivating by default. Understated but beguiling, Magimel and Binoche are of the year’s best screen pairings.

“Understated but beguiling” applies to The Taste of Things as a whole. It is easy to discount a film whose ambitions seem as modest as exploring the passions of cooking. (You don’t have to look far to find sneering about France selecting this instead of Anatomy of a Fall.) The modesty works in the film’s favor. Trần Anh Hùng’s small scale is enchanting, as is the central romance and its tender intimacies. The meticulous craft, of the food and the world lucky enough to encapsulate its aromas, allows us to absorb the observations about love at its most honest and fulfilling. It is a French delight, a feast for every tangible and intangible sense we have.

The Taste of Things is currently playing in select theaters to qualify for the 2024 Academy Awards. The film will open in limited release on February 9, 2024, courtesy of IFC Films. The film will expand to additional markets on February 14th. 

[youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cKKCGtoIOVY]