By Jonah Naplan

November 19, 2022

“The Menu,” an exceedingly dark horror/comedy film, is the kind of movie that I would like to make someday. It’s a cold, intense thriller, that at first appears to be one thing—a quirkfest of sorts about wealthy foodies coming together for a very special experience, courtesy of an infamous chef on a private island, all for a breezy $1,250. However, I saw the trailer play several times before other movies in the past months, so I knew that “The Menu” would not remain that dainty of a concept. Director Mark Mylod twists and turns the movie’s narrative, until it eventually devolves into something much more sinister, digging deep into the world of the wealthy, and showing the viewer some pretty graphic imagery along the way.

Torturing the wealthy and making them rethink the things they take for granted is a concept that has been played with and satirized many times in Hollywood. And “The Menu” is, at its core, a satire of a certain type of elitism—one that’s found in the kitchen. But it also deals with a measure of toxic masculinity. All of the film’s dread, suspense, and the things I mentioned above are all mothered by Chef Julian Slowik (Ralph Fiennes) the conniving, commanding, and intimidating head cook of the Hawthorne restaurant. He engineers a six-course “meal” (each of which begins with a thunderous clap of his hands) for his privileged guests—our protagonist Margot (Anya Taylor-Joy) and her date Tyler (Nicholas Hoult), a once-famous actor (John Leguizamo) and his assistant (Aimee Carrero), three enthusiastic tech gurus (Rob Yang, Arturo Castro, and Mark St. Cyr), an older couple (Reed Birney and Judith Light) and an esteemed food critic (Janet McTeer) alongside her husband (Paul Adelstein). Throughout this chaotic night, we will learn more and more about each of these characters’ flaws, and what makes them tick.

From the first scene to the last, “The Menu” is quick and straight to the point. There isn’t any opening exposition between characters about this supposed invitation to a luxury experience on a private island, or about the relationships characters have with each other. That information is revealed through conversations in the restaurant, and it can also be found on tortillas.

But this method sometimes fails at telling us something useful. With certain revelations in the plot’s third act, we learn a ton about Chef Slowik, and throughout the entire film we learn about Margot and Tyler. But as for all of the other neatly groomed guests, they’re frustratingly two-dimensional, defined only by a few minor character traits. “The Menu” is a trapped thriller, and an effective one at that, but to help maintain a movie’s grip on any audience member’s attention span, it’s most ideal for each of the characters to be fully fleshed out at any given moment. It sometimes prevents “The Menu” from being the perfect model for aspiring filmmakers, who want to make movies in this intriguing genre. But I said it before, and I’ll say it again—regardless of its issues, ”The Menu” is the kind of movie that makes me want to make films of my own.

When “The Menu” needs to be tense and white-knuckled, which is often, mind you, it never once fails at its mission. The best part about “The Menu”’s suspensefulness is that we never really know what’s going on. Even when the film attempts to reveal some new things, not everything gets closed up neatly. Even when Chef Slowik’s right-hand woman Elsa (Hong Chau) tries to be “transparent” with the guests, we still don’t know what’s true and what’s just a trick of the mind. Even when the film spirals into a final scene that’s sure to be one of the most controversial endings of the year, “The Menu” leaves the audience with a ton of questions.

As the film progresses, and each dish is brought out to the guests—all of them with an ingenious title card as an introduction to the course—we too feel trapped inside of Hawthorne, unable to escape its terrifying clutches. And what’s satisfying and equally frustrating about the film’s narrative structure, is that it never provides an answer as to why any of this torment needed to happen. Was it just torture for the sake of torture? Or was there actually a lesson the film wanted to teach us. I think the moral of the story here is that rich people maybe take too many things for granted when they shouldn’t. And Chef Slowik, a man, disconnected from the entire world, who lives in a small cottage on a private island, wants to drastically change their perspective through his self-proclaimed craft.

Watching the film’s credits, I was not at all surprised to find that Adam McKay, the biggest commentator on society currently working in Hollywood, produced “The Menu.” And although he didn’t direct the movie, McKay’s footprint is all over the film. You can hear it in the narcissism not too hidden in the words of the wealthy, as they each try to one up each other, including our protagonist’s date. You can see it in the onscreen description of each dish as it’s brought to the table of each guest. You can feel it when the prey begins to pounce on the predator in the third act. Is “The Menu” an allegory for privilege? I think so. A very, very, dark allegory.

Now playing in theaters.