If someone tried to argue that cooking is the most cinematic activity, it wouldn’t take much to convince me. The Taste of Things would make a good Exhibit A (or Exhibit B under Tampopo. Or Exhibit C under Big Night. Et cetera). When done right, there is something about the film depiction of cooking that just feels whole, like a full experience. Cooking is tactile, textural, occasionally sensual. It brings all of the senses into harmony. For someone like me who doesn’t know the first thing about the craft or art of cooking, The Taste of Things might be the closest I’ll come to understanding that harmony (I don’t even know half of the ingredients in the dishes prepared in this film).

The French title of The Taste of Things is La Passion de Dodin Bouffant. It is a fitting title, in that the film is driven forward by the passion restauranteur Dodin (Benoit Magimel) has for his food and for his chef Eugenie (Juliette Binoche). But the film is as much about Eugenie’s passion, more subdued but nevertheless alive in the kitchen and in the quiet moments the pair share in the comedown following an immaculate dinner served.

Dodin loves Eugenie and wants to marry her. She keeps him at arm’s length, save for those nights when she keeps her bedroom door unlocked for him. They share a 20-year history, of which we are privy to only days. Still, it is easy to understand them both, and to feel the roots of their relationship dig deeper into the dirt as Eugenie succumbs to an illness.

Tran Anh Hung’s film luxuriates in its lengthy sequences of cooking and serving. The first scene in the film takes us step-by-step through a multi-course meal. The scene, comprised solely of the process of cooking a meal, lasts over half an hour. And it is impossible to look away from it. Watching everything slowly take shape is captivating, and each time a course comes together and is sent out to the table feels like a minor triumph. The whole thing is intimately shot with gorgeous warm lighting. In short, it would be the scene of the year were it not for the film’s spellbinding and emotionally conflicted final scene.

If food porn is not your bag, then this film is not going to provide you much satisfaction, as the central romance is so intimately tied to the cooking that few scenes exist outside of food. That said, the contemplative nature of this romance is fascinating to watch, and the care put into the depiction of food is commendable. The Taste of Things is impressive, and, if you afford it some patience, it may wrap you into a warm and melancholy embrace. Juliette Binoche and Benoit Magimel are also phenomenal.

The Taste of Things: B+

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As always, thanks for reading!

—Alex Brannan (Letterboxd, Facebook)