Posts Tagged ‘yum yum’

Since the heyday of Roger Corman there has been a pleasing synergy to the fact that horror movies have traditionally offered a reasonably safe route to decent box-office returns on a relatively small budget, thus allowing writers and directors near the beginnings of their careers the chance to make movies about quite challenging and sophisticated ideas, provided they respect the conventions of the genre. The early films of George Romero and David Cronenberg are full of social commentary and metaphorical power, it’s just that this is to some extent obscured by the fact they are apparently just exploitation movies about zombies and parasitic infection.

The question is to what degree the same is true of Julia Ducournau’s Raw, which appears to be an entry into one of horror’s least respectable sub-genres, but clearly has other things to say for itself. Garance Marillier gives a remarkable performance as Justine, a bright young student off to university for the first time. She is studying to be a vet, as is her older sister Alex (Ella Rumpf), who’s at the same college as her. Justine has been raised as a staunch vegetarian by her parents, but she is unsettled to discover that Alex seems to have lapsed a little into the ways of meat-eating.

The initiation rituals for new students at the college are extreme and debauched, and include the newcomers having to eat a raw rabbit kidney. Justine demurs, as you would, but without anyone to support her principled stance, and the threat of social ostracism looming, goes ahead and swallows the bunny bits anyway.

Her attempts to come to terms with the new opportunities, threats, and temptations of college life are somewhat complicated by the unexpected way in which her body reacts to eating raw flesh. Initially there is a rather grisly rash, and after this fades Justine finds herself gripped by a strange hunger that drives her to steal meat from the canteen, gnaw on raw chicken straight from the fridge, and even contemplate much darker sources of sustenance…

So, yes, this is the French-language feminist cannibal movie of which you may have heard, and (wait for it) fairly strong meat it is too. Cannibalism may not be your thing at the cinema; I can understand that, I’m not an unconditional fan of this sort of thing myself. It almost goes without saying that this is not a film for the faint-hearted or weak-stomached – there is gore aplenty, and while it is not spectacular it is certainly intense. That said, the film is uncompromising on all fronts – quite graphic sex and other bodily functions also feature – and, to be honest, the sequence which made me squirm the most involved one character giving another a not entirely competent bikini wax.

The fact the film isn’t just about bloody flesh is an indicator that at heart it isn’t, as I had feared, just some piece of heavy-handed agitprop on behalf of militant vegans. There seems to be a lot of this sort of thing doing the rounds at present and I’m not sure I really need to see more of it; I’m aware that from a certain point of view eating meat is ethically indefensible (certainly if you have any dealings with the mainstream meat industry), but, well, I’m told that the human capacity to simultaneously hold numerous mutually incompatible beliefs at the same time is one of the keys to our success as a species, so why not make use of it: animal welfare is a significant issue, but some animals do taste delicious. Inasmuch as the film is actually about vegetarianism, it’s because this is something which initially marks Justine as an outsider and thus makes her socially vulnerable. One of the things the film is about is the demands on young women to conform to certain standards of behaviour, whether they want to or not, and the ugly double standards that are often involved if they try too hard to fit in.

Cannibalism as a metaphor for peer pressure is an interesting approach to take, but Ducournau makes it work, and also makes it clear what a tightrope young women are on at this time in their lives – transgression of any kind can see them ostracised, ridiculed on social media, or worse. The urge to try and disappear must be strong. The director doesn’t hold back in making the student culture of the college just as repellent as anything that Justine’s little eating disorder drives her to (her cannibalistic tendencies are implicitly compared to bulimia at one point), and makes it very clear just how vulnerable an unworldly young woman like her is, surrounded by so many new temptations.

One thing that possibly weakens the film is the way that Ducournau attempts to insert another layer of metaphor, making Justine’s desire for flesh figurative as well as literal: the new world she is plunged into finds her having to contend with feelings for her room-mate (Rabah Nait Oufella) – she becomes jealous, possessive of him, finds these powerful new emotions difficult to deal with. But what does she really want to do to him? Suffice to say the ensuing scenes are powerfully sensual, if not completely comfortable viewing, and the film is strong enough to survive this slightly split focus. It also manages to accommodate a closing scene which largely seems to be there to provide a startling and memorable twist ending, which while not quite feeling like a complete cheat, does feel somewhat like it’s drifted in from a film which is much more of a black comedy than this one.

I wasn’t sure quite what to expect from Raw, but I was impressed with what I got – in an odd way it does have that clinical, queasy feeling of a very early Cronenberg movie, but the skill with which the director handled picture and soundtrack (Jim Williams’ score is also highly impressive) almost put me in mind of… well, I almost hesitate to say this, but in some ways Raw resembles the cannibal horror film that Stanley Kubrick never made. If you only go and see one feminist cannibal horror movie in French this year, Raw should be your choice – always assuming you have the stomach for it.

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Leading the busy life I do, it’s not always easy to fit my other commitments in around my rigorous filmgoing regime, and doing so occasionally forces me to compromise when it comes to things like food and sleep. My personal physician raises objections when I start skipping meals entirely, and so once in a while I have to sneak something to eat while actually in a movie theatre.

Now, obviously there are Code of Conduct issues to consider when it comes to eating while at the cinema – no hot food, nothing crunchy or especially pungent, nothing likely to scatter or impinge upon the viewing experience of my fellow patrons. Usually I settle for a soft bap or sandwich spread with something neutral. This is usually not a problem, provided the cinema isn’t too crowded (in which case I usually just postpone the food until after the picture’s actually finished). However, every now and then a film comes along during which it just feels wrong to be eating sandwiches.


I don’t just mean the likes of Texas Chainsaw 3D or anything else likely to perturb the digestion. Tucking into a half-and-half sandwich spread with a nut-derived preserve during a film like David Gelb’s Jiro Dreams Of Sushi felt frankly inadequate and was actually rather depressing. I am not normally a foodie of any kind – one of the reasons I ended up taking a packed dinner to this particular film was because the local branch of Burger King is currently being refurbed – but the culinary precision and richness on display left me awash with memories of Tokyo restaurants in which I spent many happy hours, and filled with the desire to enjoy proper Japanese cuisine again. It’s that sort of film.

Much of this film takes place inside Sukiyabashi Jiro, a speciality sushi restaurant in a Japanese subway station. It only seats about a dozen customers at a time, doesn’t have its own bathroom, and past patrons report that dining in the presence of head chef Jiro Ono can be a rather intimidating experience. The set meal costs well over a hundred pounds, and speedy eaters can probably get through it in well under half an hour. And yet Sukiyabashi Jiro has three Michelin stars, a waiting list stretching into months, and a list of rapturous recommendations as long as Godzilla’s tail. This is, by all accounts, the best sushi restaurant in the world.

Quite how one achieves this kind of quality in any undertaking is, in itself, a fascinating subject for a documentary, and the film spends a lot of time considering it. There are interviews with Japanese food critics, apprentices past and present from the restaurant, but especially with Jiro Ono himself and his two sons, Yoshikazu and Takashi. Yoshikazu assists his father (at the age of 85, Jiro continues to work relentlessly in the restaurant), while Takashi runs a satellite restaurant in the swish Roppongi Hills development.

There are no particular film-making gimmicks employed here, no animations, no narration, just the various men associated with the restaurant talking about it and Jiro himself. And yet it is quite, quite engrossing – I say this as an admirer of Japan and its food, but I think the same would be true for most impartial viewers. Time and again the sheer details almost defy belief: apprentices at the restaurant have to work for ten years before they are considered fully-trained. Only then are they permitted to attempt the egg sushi which concludes the set meal there. One apprentice recalls how it took over two hundred attempts before his egg sushi passed muster with the great man.

Jiro is outwardly an unassuming figure, but he is clearly a legend in sushi circles, and held in deep reverence by everyone around him. Occasionally this film touches on wider themes, such as changing attitudes to careers, or indeed the state of the environment (overfishing is beginning to affect the menus of sushi restaurants), but mostly it comes down to this one man and his breathtaking dedication to making the perfect piece of sushi: something he still claims to be working towards. There is iron discipline at work here – both self-discipline and that imposed upon others – and an all-consuming commitment of a kind I can barely conceive.

Well, if nothing else, it’s a magnificent obsession, and it’s certainly resulted in the creation of a lot of delicious food (even if you do feel hungry again half an hour later). All the participants seem certain that this justifies the long hours, the endless hard work, the strict upbringing Yoshikazu and Takashi both recall, but part of me wonders. For all that Jiro speaks of the choices he has made, it seems to me that people like this are not made but born – this is someone who has found something which is more than a career, but a genuine calling which has overwhelmed his life. The question is simply whether he has been lucky to do so – and I suppose it’s a matter for the individual to decide.

In this respect Jiro Dreams Of Sushi is more than just a behind-the-scenes look at a top Japanese restaurant, but an exploration of what it means to dedicate your life to perfection in any undertaking – to live a fulfilled and honorable life, perhaps. This gives the theme of the movie a universality you might not expect. It’s a deceptively simple film, but completely fascinating throughout: but it might be worth making a reservation at your local Japanese restaurant for immediately after your viewing of it.

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