The Menu: Fine Dining Deconstructed

By Jaylin Figueroa

Within culinary culture, it is the norm to be ridiculed, insulted, and to be told to “do it right or do it twice.” This is a phrase I’ve heard countless times within my experience working within fine dining. The system commonly used in fine dining kitchens, the brigade system, ensures that the kitchen runs smoothly while defining the roles of kitchen staff. This structure is defined by discipline and obedience to create perfect dishes. Although this workplace creates an environment that may run at peak efficiency, it comes at a cost to the minds of the chefs creating the dishes. Created in the midst of popular shows, such as The Bear, depicting chefs’ pursuit of success comes The Menu and its depictions of what happens post-success.

The comedy horror film, The Menu, brings the fictional restaurant Hawthorn to life by showing this painstaking, grueling work that lies within the fine-dining industry. The movie’s main message is that chefs devote much of their personal lives in vain to make a restaurant run because, despite some recognition, the lack of respect following these chefs throughout the industry makes their sacrifice worthless, due to the patrons’ lack of concern for the skill and more for the appearance of dining out in an exclusive restaurant. Hawthorn, presented as one of those restaurants for which it is nearly impossible to get a reservation, serves a menu totaling up to $1,250 per person. The restaurant resides on a small desolate island only accessible by boat. For the restaurant to run, kitchen staff have given up their personal lives entirely for their careers, as they live on the island, waking up each morning at 6 a.m. to start prep, and working tirelessly until past midnight. This includes gathering crops and slaughtering animals, as everything is cultivated on the island, in addition to getting all sauces, garnishes, and proteins ready for service.

Ralph Fiennes plays executive chef Julian Slowik, the renowned chef of Hawthorn, with a particularly special menu this night. The menu has been thoughtfully planned out, as have tonight’s guests, each hand picked after months of research by the staff and chef. The guests of the evening include Tyler (Nicholas Hoult), a passionate foodie with a keen palate able to detect the smallest ingredient and an extensive knowledge of specific preparations techniques. Margot Mills (Anna Taylor Joy), the film’s heroine, accompanies Tyler on the night of the event, albeit unknown by all the staff as her place at the table was a last minute change. The remainder of the guests include finance bros who care more about the prestige of the restaurant rather than the food; a snobby food critic and her editor, who both had a part in Chef Julian’s success; an older couple who are regulars but can’t name one dish that they have tried; and a movie star no longer in his glory days accompanied by his assistant. By the end of the film the lives of patrons and restaurant employees will become intertwined in Chef Julian’s final act of lost passion, as the menu, guests, and staff culminate in a fiery confrontation.

The Menu succeeds in depictions of beautiful creations, both as an artistic statement and physical manifestation. Ranging from the physically beautiful such as a scallop-like protein rested on a rock, with garnished leaves and plants, to the more conceptual “breadless” bread course featuring only simple bread dips. The rationale the chef provides for withholding the main part from the course, only displaying sauces that would be placed on the bread, is that this was a food historically eaten by peasants. Based on the large price each diner is paying for their dinner, the people dining within the restaurant would be considered upper class. Therefore, they deserve better class than what would have been fed to the lower class in the past. Food transcends its physical components to embody a chef’s creative vision. To create these beautiful, thought-provoking dishes, the directors of the movie relied on actual experience. They consulted chef Dominique Crenn, owner of the Michelin three-star restaurant Atelier Crenn in San Francisco, to devise the dishes portrayed. In addition, they worked with David Gelb, director of Netflix show Chef Table, to incorporate his videography expertise in capturing these elegant dishes on film. This creates a film that is true to the reality of fine-dining food in plating, flavor, and presentation.

Within the menu that Chef Julian presents to the guests is a problem within the restaurant industry for the already established, specifically fine-dining restaurants, where chefs are not valued for the craftsmanship and the art that they bring to guests. The workdays consist of grueling long days (12 to 18 hours) that focus on creating novel combinations of ingredients and beautifully plated dishes. Chef Julian asserts his frustration with having achieved the recognition of a superb chef, yet not receiving the respect he assumed would accompany it. This disrespect is felt within the dining room as we watch an audacious food critic be served food and rudely display her discontent, despite being invited as a personal guest of Chef Julian to take part in this priceless experience. Before even tasting the scallop course, she yelps in disgust, loud enough for all the staff to hear, crying out that the dish is “tweezered to hell” and other insolent remarks throughout the beginning courses. A later example of this disrespect is told by Chef Julian, angry that his investor, when dining on past nights, had demanded substitutions for proteins and ingredients within the dishes. By asking a chef to change aspects of his dish, it takes away from the original way the dish was created and meant to be enjoyed. In many fine dining Michelin-starred restaurants, this is not allowed; tasting menus are not meant to be changed to cater to the taste of the diners, it is meant to be enjoyed the way the chef intends.

Despite the compelling depiction of artistic compromise, the dialogue often fails to match the severity of the message. In some moments it sounds comical, as it doesn’t accurately capture how people speak, causing the audience to burst into laughter. However, this inaccurate dialogue sometimes seems too forced, and confuses rather than amuses. In one instance, as the chef recites a lengthy Martin Luther King quote, the fiance bros dining ask each other, “is he quoting Martin Luther King?” Even for the use of comedy, the quote from a Black civil rights leader doesn’t really feel right; it’s humorous but misplaced within the context of this movie. The failure to achieve comedy also detracts from the dialogue’s attempts to convey horror. In instances when the chefs are told to begin plating by Chef Julian, they scream out “yes, Chef” in eerie unison. This behavior continues throughout each course, showing the dominance and control that Chef Julian has within the kitchen. With each clap progressing through the dining room, the act becomes frightening as the chefs continue to fall back in line and do as Chef Julian says. As chilling as this loss of autonomy appears, the failed attempts at comedy throughout the film ruin any attempt to establish an air of malaise. 

Aside from dialogue that fails to promote the movie as distinctly a horror or comedy film, The Menu is worthy of being watched for offering a underrepresented view of restaurant culture. In an industry that is highly stressful, with agonizing work that allows for little personal time, this is all endured in order to share the joy of food with delicious dishes that excite and leave a lasting impact. The Menu has one main point: you will give your blood, sweat, and tears to this profession, all the while having the job be made harder by not being valued for the work that you put in, both by those who are mentoring you in the kitchen and those who you are serving. As the film is not one with traditional elements of horror and is more satirical in nature, the real horror within this film is the grim reality that this work leaves many with a sense of isolation even when given the utmost recognition. The Menu epitomizes the essence of horror as confronting the unknown. Through a depiction of what happens after success, the endings of most restaurant filmography, we are forced to confront the depressingly funny limitations and concessions of following our dreams.