Chef is a 2014 film written, produced, directed and
starring Jon Favreau. It also stars John Leguizamo, Bobby Cannavale, Emjay
Anthony, Scarlett Johansson, Dustin Hoffman, Sofia Vegara, Oliver Platt,
Amy Sedaris and Robert Downey Jnr. (Cast details from imdb.com.)
The film tells the story of Carl Casper (Favreau), a
high-end chef making staid and predictable meals in Riva (Hoffman)’s restaurant.
He is forced out of his job due to a bad review by Ramsey Michel (Platt), his contretemps
with Michel going viral on Twitter. He takes up his ex-wife (Vergara)’s
offer of her ex-husband (Downey Junior)’s food truck. Together with one of
his former chefs (Leguizamo) and his son (Anthony), they bring the truck home,
making food for people on the way. The plot is secure, it works, and it offers
no real surprises, either. Bizarrely, this is undoubtedly one of the best
things about the film, a ‘feel good’ piece, designed to make its audience
smile. There are no crushing moments of despair, no point at which an audience
member might stand up and berate a character for doing something so obviously
stupid, and nothing which forces the story to define itself so clearly into a
genre. There’s no car chase, there’s no jeopardy, there’s no double-crossing,
there’s no kiss in the rain. By eschewing predictable and well-known narrative
structures, the film manages to be uncomplicated rather than naïve,
life-affirming rather than glib and impressive rather than merely trying too
hard.
Its success, then, is down to the confidence of its writer
and lead. Favreau doesn’t try to make the story do something that it clearly
shouldn’t do and – at the same time – doesn’t try to make Casper too likeable.
He lets the story tell itself and Casper’s absolute love of food, his job and,
ultimately, his son draw the character. And it works – he is a joy to watch.
Martin, the buddy, is unproblematic and remains believable because of it. Percy
is not over directed to steal hearts: he doesn’t do anything particularly cute
or falsely endearing. As a result, his performance is convincing and rather
fine. In fact, Favreau’s confidence in the story, and the food, is best
highlighted by his use of cameos. Hoffman is extremely restrained in his
portrayal of the awful restaurant owner who doesn’t understand the talent of
his head chef. He isn’t allowed to freewheel or gesticulate. Downey Junior’s
weirdness is beautifully understated, painted with such light strokes that the
cinema audience I watched the film with laughed out loud (and there were only
four of us). Johansson is splendid but not in any way overused. Not even the
lead gets to overdo himself: there’s no moment of revenge, for example, on his
former boss.
At its heart, this is a redemption story, one man’s
journey from unhappiness to happiness, from having nothing to sort of having it
all. It could be mawkish and falsely sentimental, but instead it’s
big-hearted and celebratory. Two elements of the film, in particular, help make
it the latter and not the former. The first is the soundtrack: big, glorious,
happy jazz, brass and swing fill the picture throughout, and it’s marvellous.
The second is the cinematography which manages to keep the van beautifully in
its surroundings, preventing the story from becoming too large and at risk of
deflating itself. The locations, the sights, the colours are rich and vibrant
throughout.
Food is everywhere, and all of it (with the exception of the
boring stuff at the beginning) looks incredible. Even a toasted sandwich is
made to look like the finest haute cuisine.
There’s a scene near the beginning when we are led to believe that
Casper is going to sleep with Molly – instead he makes her a meal. The camera
focuses on his skill and passion and her reactions as he creates the food, as
if to say – ‘This food really is better than sex’. And it looks it. It really
does.
Obviously, I think you should watch this film. There are
some really good reasons to watch this film. It’s a good story. You’ll care
about the characters. The food is amazing. The real reason, though, I think is
to enjoy something which – arguably – steps away from the mainstream and its
prescriptive ideas about what will and won’t be successful. Because the film
seems realer, the obvious elation seems realer, too. Without blowing the plot
(not that it matters much), the ending could have been mired in sentimentality,
overblown acting and narrative tropes. Instead, the film relies entirely on
cinematography, food and joy. No words are said. It’s that fine.