ScreenFish

where faith and film are intertwined

classism

Delicious – Restaurant of the Revolution

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I frequently eat out. Sometimes it’s for convenience; other times it is for something special. The options are endless because restaurants are everywhere. They always have been, right? Well, no. Delicious, from director Éric Bresnard, is the story of the birth of the restaurant, and it was very much a revolutionary idea.

Set just before the French Revolution, we are told that in the 18th century fine cuisine was used by the nobility to “fight boredom and show its grandeur.” This at a time when most people barely had enough to eat. Noblemen would find and train chefs to create outlandish meals to display their wealth. One such chef was Pierre Manceron, who worked for the Duke of Chamford. After one of these elaborate dinners, the Duke brought Manceron into the dining room and let the guests critique the meal. When one dish was disapproved of, the Duke demanded an apology from Manceron, who refused and was dismissed.

Manceron and his son return to the remote post relay station (which served simple meals, such as broths to travelers) to start anew. While there, Louise, a woman who claims to have been a jam maker, shows up and asks to apprentice under Manceron. He thinks there is no point in teaching a woman, especially one he views as unworthy. (At one point he noted that the only women who carried themselves as Louise did were either noblewomen or whores—and if she were a countess she wouldn’t be there.) But she persists and as time goes by ideas start to form that they could make real meals for travelers.

In time, the Duke, who has never found a cook equal to Manceron, is willing to take him back. But it turns out that Louise also has a bone to pick with the Duke, and the plans to serve him a special meal could be deadly. But perhaps there is another way to get even for past injuries.

I doubt the film makes any real claims to historical accuracy, but the modern restaurant did evolve in France around this time. In this film we see various aspects of what we think of as restaurants develop along the way. But we also see how this really does have a revolutionary aspect. The film portrays the development of the restaurant as a democratization of food. Well made food is no longer only for the nobility. Anyone can come and enjoy the meal. And enjoyment is a key, because in this film food is joyful.

Delicious is not going to garner any Michelin stars, but it’s also not a greasy spoon. It may at least make you think when you eat out next about what a revolutionary thing you’re doing among all those other people.

Delicious is in select theaters and available on VOD.

Photos courtesy of Samuel Goldwyn Films

Reporting from Slamdance – Narrative Features (Part 1)

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I want to use this report to touch on a few of the films that are part of the Narrative Feature section at the Slamdance Film Festival. I’ve got to admit that as I’ve been focusing on shorts for a bit, it took a bit of a mental shift to wait for a story to develop. But watching films is sort of like riding a bike, it comes back to you quickly.

A film with a somewhat off-putting title was far more engaging than I expected. Taipei Suicide Story, directed by KEFF, takes place in a specialty hotel—it caters to people who want to die. The desk clerk is informed by one of the cleaning crew that there is a guest in one of the rooms who has been there a week and still alive. When he goes up and finds a young woman who explains that when she arrived, she knew that everyone there was like her, so she no longer felt alone. She no longer needed to die, but she also didn’t want to live. He tells here she has one last night to either die or leave. As the night progresses, the two spend some time together talking—connecting. Will this be the push she needs to end it all or to choose life? How will her decision affect the clerk?

While the film is very brief for a feature (48 minutes), it pulls us into the strange world of the hotel. The daily cleaning service is obviously much different than the hotels we visit. There are some bits of very dark humor that just show up as seemingly throwaway lines. (She’s contemplating buying some instant noodles, and he suggests there are healthier options.) But mostly we are drawn to these two people who are meeting on what may be the last day they will be together. I was a little surprised how much I liked this.

In A Brixton Tale matters of race and class complicate a relationship between two young people. Leah, a young vlogger from a well-to-do family connects with Benji, a shy black young man from the Barrier Block. and uses Benji as the subject of a videoed documentary on Brixton. They become close and are falling in love. But when Benji sees the way she’s edited his life, he feels (rightfully so) that he’s been used. When someone posts a sex video of Leah online, she and Benji seek revenge, and the violence ends up greater than they had planned, but given their social disparity we know that Benji will pay the price.

There are levels here. The film is a minor indictment of voyeuristic filmmaking that wants to show a gritty side of life that the filmmakers are not part of. When we see Leah’s film exhibited to a very upscale crowd, we know that they care more about the quality of the film that the quality of life that Benji lives. It also points out the discrepancy of hope for the two characters, especially when legal troubles come. A Brixton Tale is making its world premiere at Slamdance.

The Polish film Hurrah, We Are Still Alive, directed by Agnieszka Polska, is a noirish story of a group of “socially engaged” filmmakers who are in a holding pattern as they await the return of “the director”. Even in his absence, he seems to have some effect on what is going on in their lives. In part this is because he has taken some of the money left with the group by the Movement (a revolutionary organization) to “invest” to finance his movie about Rosa Luxemburg.  When a woman from the Movement shows up wanting the money, she reconnects with one of the actresses. Some cowboy police officers are also threatening the group. But we also know that an enforcer is being called in—from two different directions.

There is a certain Waiting for Godot vibe to this plot, but without bowler hats or the existential reflection. But there is a sense that all these people are lost and floundering in the director’s absence. It has places where it gets a bit to artsy (especially a few interludes with a rose and blood in the early part of the film that don’t seem to fit with anything). But the noirish feel is well done.

Photos courtesy of Slamdance Film Festival.

Snowpiercer – Dantesque Train Ride

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All of life has been reduced to the inhabitants of a 1001 car long train that continually circles the earth where the outside temperature is -119° C. In TNT’s new drama series Snowpiercer, that train becomes a microcosm for society. The series is based on the 2013 Bong Joon Ho film (Bong is one of the Executive Producers) and a series of graphic novels starting with La Transperceneige by Jacques Lob, Jean-Marc Rochette, and Benjamin Lagrand. The stories of all these manifestations differ. What they all have in common is this train traveling through a post-apocalyptic frozen world. I’ve had a chance to watch the first five episodes of the first season. The series has already been renewed for a second season.

The TV series takes place seven years after the world was frozen by scientists seeking to end global warming. But it went terribly wrong. The prescient Mr. Wilfort designed and built this train to save some of the people—mostly the rich and those needed to take care of them.

As the series opens, seven years after the train set off, some of those in charge come to the Tail of the train, where the dregs of this society are housed, to find Andre Layton (Daveed Diggs), who is one of the leaders planning a revolt. He is also a former police detective. There has been a gruesome murder on the train. Although the regular order keepers (The Brakemen) on board don’t really trust anyone from the tail, they need his expertise. It is through the investigation of the murder that we discover this rolling world. And what we discover is a world that is full of the same injustices and inequalities of our own society.

There is a very rigid class structure on the train, which corresponds with the closeness to the front of the train. The engine is the realm of Mr. Wilfort, who is something of a benign god who is the supreme authority. With a touch of almost religious reverence, authority is sometimes said to come from “the eternal Engine”.  People are told at one point that “the Engine will provide”. The engine’s decrees are mediated through Melanie Cavill (Jennifer Connelly), a sort of high priestess of the “faith” of Wilfort. She is the day to day hands on ruler of the train. (Although, [minor spoiler] by the end of the first episode we discover that Mr. Wilfort is a convenient fiction.)

Just behind the engine is the First Class area, where the people who had money to invest in the train live in the luxury, entitlement, and privilege they are used to. Think of them as the 1%. Next comes Second Class, the middle-class, white collar section of the train. This is life akin to the suburbs—comfortable but not luxurious. Third Class is the blue collar section of the train. Here is where all the workers who keep things going are housed. It’s a harder life here. They survive, but live in cramped quarters.

At the very rear is The Tail. These are people who forced their way on to the train without tickets. The rest of the train considers them freeloaders. They live in utter squalor. They have no windows, no privacy, and no rights. They are fed some gelatinous protein bars. And they want something better. As Layton moves uptrain, it seems almost a Dantesque ascension from hell to paradise (with a few glimpses of purgatory).

Because the story is told in all parts of the train, the series becomes a multilayered narrative with an large ensemble cast. In addition to the two main actors, Connelly and Diggs, look for Alison Wright as Ruth, a stick-up-her-butt assistant to Melanie; Mickey Sumner as Bess Till, a young brakeman who slowly warms to Layton and begins to sees him as a mentor; and Annalise Basso as LJ Folger, a First Class teenager who, well, spoilers should be avoided, but keep an eye on her.

The murder mystery is solved after a few episodes, but it lays the groundwork for the story of class struggle that is bound to erupt. Certainly the Tailies are being pushed to the point of insurrection. Layton had hoped to see enough of the train that he would be able to pass word back to the tail to aid in that insurrection. When the investigation is finished, however, he knows too much to be allowed to return to the Tail.

For those running the train, order is of the highest importance. This is not a democracy. It is more like a theocracy (but remember we know that the seemingly divine Wilfort is not what everyone thinks). In the film, this desire for order took on an almost Calvinistic sense of predestination. It is less so in the TV series. Still everyone has their assigned role and place in this society. But everyone wants more. The Tailies want access to the rest of the train. Those in Third Class want a voice. Even those in First Class are dissatisfied and are looking for their own advancement.

The injustice inherent in these class distinctions is especially evident in the episodes I’ve screened. Justice is shown to be subjective. The train has been set up as a trickle-down society. Each level has not only less comfort, but less influence. But even the one percenters don’t have control. They are also looking to get more, even though it seems they have all they could want. I expect, as I continue on in the series, to see this class struggle take on more and more importance. This inequality was also evident in the film, but was more centered on the Tail. In the series, this dissatisfaction is spread throughout the train. The revolution that seems to be coming will not have a single source, but will likely come from many sides.

You may have noted various somewhat religious references throughout this review. While this is not an overtly religious series, there are definite spiritual undertones. However, much of what sounds religious is in fact a façade to provide authority to those uptrain to maintain the social order as they see fit. That is not unlike the way some in our society confuse social structure with religion. But just because semi-religious authority is improperly used, doesn’t mean that the spiritual nature of the series is only about the misuse of religion. There are spots, even early on, that we see the spiritual side of come of the characters. This becomes most evident when we discover The Night Car—ostensibly a brothel, but in reality it provides something much deeper. This is at base a humanistic spirituality. It is in the way people relate to one another that brings out their spiritual natures. And it is those natures that will be essential to the unfolding story.

Snowpiercer airs on TNT beginning on May 17th, 2020.

Photos courtesy of Warner Media.

Tommy’s Honour – Golf and Class

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“You’re a hero, Tommy Morris, to this town. But you’ll never be a gentleman.”

Golf has an aura of propriety. Even at the highest levels, players give themselves penalties for minor violations. It’s just the way the sport is played. The sport has something of an aristocratic background. After all, the Mecca of the game has the extravagant name “The Royal and Ancient Golf Club of St. Andrews”. But for all the gentlemanliness of the game, there is also an undercurrent of the more common elements of society. Tommy’s Honour is the story of a young working class man who seeks to make his fortune through the game of golf.

It’s actually the story of father and son. “Old” Tom Morris (Peter Mullan) is the head greenkeeper at St. Andrews. He is credited with starting the Open Championship, which he won four times. Yet that is very much a lower class job in that day. He makes clubs and balls for the more well to do players. He is really seen as something of a glorified caddie by the members of the club. They assume “Young” Tommy (Jack Lowden) will follow in his father’s footsteps. Sure enough, Tommy’s skills soon surpass his father on the course. But Tommy doesn’t “want to spend my days on my knees teeing up gentlemen who despise me, who think they’re better than me.”

Of course, golf was a bit different in the 19th Century. It was a pastime for the upper class. But for challenges, the clubs would back a player. The members would place the bets and collect the money, and give what they thought right to their representative player. So Tom and Tommy were often making money for their backers, but only a bit for themselves. Tommy, however, is arrogant and soon demands that he will decide how the money will be divided.

Classism is very pronounced throughout this film. It represents a time when the classes were fixed. If you were born into one class, there you would stay. (It’s really not much different that some of the attitudes many of us watched in Downton Abbey.) That message was passed on to Tommy in many ways. His father understood this as the way of the world. He’s told once that his “station in life was set before you were born.” There is even a good Scottish Calvinist sermon on predestination to drive home the point with a religious justification.

I found it interesting that publicity for this film uses terms like “Golf royalty” for Tom and Tommy. That is because of their place in the history of the game. Tom was the designer for various courses in Scotland and England. Both father and son won several championships. (Tommy was the first to win three in a row and retire the championship belt). They’re names may still show up on some lists of greatest all-time golfers. But “royalty” is very ironic considering how those who controlled the game looked down on them.

And it isn’t only about the upper class. When Tommy falls in love (and eventually marries) Meg Drinnen (Ophelia Lovibond) a girl with a checkered past, his own family wants to draw a line. They viewed her as beneath them socially.

Classism, of course, is just one of the ways we divide ourselves into “us and them” and assert our supposed superiority over other people. It fails to understand the basic equality that all people have before God. And it diminishes those who bear God’s image.

Photos courtesy of Roadside Attractions.