Some films simmer slowly, while others, like this one, serve their poison from the very first bite. The Menu hooks you with its blend of thriller, dark comedy, and social satire, unfolding course by course until the viewer is left both uncomfortable and fascinated.
The theatrical atmosphere in the staging is a key ingredient. Everything moves with choreographed precision, as if we were watching a performance where each gesture, silence, and look is part of a greater design. That sense of ritual makes it even more engaging.
Ralph Fiennes inhabits the role of the chef as a true master of ceremonies, hypnotic and disturbing. His command of the room is absolute, and the tension becomes as tangible as one of the dishes being served. Opposite him, Anya Taylor-Joy embodies the lone voice of defiance at this banquet of pretension, and the chemistry between them is magnetic, driving the story forward.
The film pokes fun at haute cuisine and the obsession with luxury, but it never loses its sharp edge of suspense and unease, turning each dish into a social commentary disguised as a culinary experience. There are moments of absurdity, sinister touches, and even laughable extremes, but all of it fits into a carefully orchestrated discomfort.
It may not be the deepest social critique or the sharpest thriller, but as a spectacle it works from start to finish. This is a menu that doesn’t leave you indifferent: grotesque, elegant, and cruel in equal measure. An experience that, like a great dinner, is savored more for the journey than for the final bite.
Comments