One can probably assume from the film 'The Cook, the thief his wife and her lover' that director Peter Greenaway has a rather warped view of humanity; he is nihilistic about society's future, abhorrent of Thatcher's regime and furiously condescending of the entrepreneurial upper classes and their exploitation of the workers. This anger manifests itself in the shocking scenes of violence and depravity contained in the film, which earned the film an X certificate back in 1989 and (surprisingly) resulted in the film reaching a larger audience than anyone anticipated (the film grossed over $7 million in the USA) and proved that there is more weight to the old adage 'no publicity is bad publicity' than one might expect. However it should not be forgotten that the film received almost unanimously euphoric reviews from film critics (or at least from those that didn't flee from the cinema) and is indeed one of the most brilliant, visceral, imaginative and unique pieces of cinema. It's not for all tastes, but those who can stomach it will be rewarded with a slice of delectable cinematic cuisine of the highest order.
The film's central locale is 'Le Hollondais', a restaurant of the most impeccable quality in every aspect. Night after night the restaurant is attended not only by an assortment of wealthy and decadent noveau riche, but also by low-level gangster Albert Spica (Michael Gambon) accompanied by his tormented wife Georgina (Helen Mirren) and a consortium of pimps, hit-men and psychopaths. Each evening Albert treats the dining area of the restaurant like his court, spewing out vile speeches of ignorance and bigotry, making unqualified criticisms of the cuisine and assaulting any of the other diners if they object to his hog-like behaviour. The chef (Richard Bohringer) despises Albert, but presents a façade of obedience and servitude to avoid any maltreatment from Albert and his cronies (much like the other dining guests, who exhibit remarkable patience with the revolting Albert). Georgina seems resigned to marital martyrdom, but also sees the ridiculousness of Albert's arrogance and pomposity (though she rarely contradicts him, he hits her with the exquisitely calligraphic menu when she does). However, one night her eyes meet Michael's (Alan Howard), an intellectual who sits quietly in the corner of the restaurant, delicately eating his meal whilst engrossed in his book, seemingly oblivious to Albert's loud displays of crudeness. Lightning (proverbially) strikes and with little hesitation the two make for the Ladies toilet, where they engage in a passionate tryst in one of the cubicles. And thus the cycle begins; each night Albert continues his rants and consumption of excessive amounts of food, whilst the cook assists Georgina in finding hiding places for her and Michael to make love. However the naturally distrustful Albert soon realises he is a cuckold and orders that lover be killed by having each page of his book thrust down his throat with a sharp spindle. Georgina, however, is able to turn the tables on Albert, which leads to the films shocking denouement where the thief receives his just desserts in a manner best described as poetic justice.
So what is the film about? Is it a darkly humorous political satire on our materialistic times? Is it exploitative pornography coupled with scenes of unnecessary brutality? Or is it simply a story about a cook, a thief his wife and her lover? This is not an easy question to answer; the film's political undercurrents are intentionally enigmatic and vague, Greenaway certainly isn't handing us the answers on a silver platter (in interviews he refuses to talk about his film's subliminal meanings) and we are left to our own devices to discern the films message (if indeed it possesses one). Whilst one could simply accept the film as an updated Jacobean tragedy mingled with the savagery of a Charles Bronson revenge flick, this would rob the film of its allegorical significance, which the film most certainly possesses (in a strangely subversive way). I personally tend towards the argument that 'The Cook the thief his wife and her lover' is Greenaway's manifesto for his disgust at Britain's social hierarchy; the excesses of the wealthy, their subjugation of the workers and their insatiable desire for (as Dickens's Oliver would put it) 'more'.
The quartet of main actors give performances of uninhibited power; they must metaphorically (and in the case of Helen Mirren and Michael Howard, literally) bare all. Each inhabits their character perfectly; the dour, soft spoken Richard, who subversively undermines Albert's authority by assisting Georgina in her sexual caprices, is played with model restraint and calm by Richard Bohringer (although his thick French accent is sometimes hard to comprehend). The part of Lover is less straightforward (he says nothing for the film's first 40 minutes) but Michael Howard acquits himself well to a rather limited role, the real tour de force performances, however, are delivered by Mirren and Gambon. Georgina's transformation from abused wife, to daring lover, to seeker of vengeance is perfectly portrayed by Mirren, she is the film's defiant heroine and earns our sympathies for her desperate plight. As Roger Ebert surmised so aptly 'Gambon plays Albert as the kind of bully you can only look at in wonder, that God does not strike him dead' he is the epitome of excess (gastronomically, egotistically, financially etc.) and lacks any redeeming features, but Gambon also has the talent to give a performance that makes us realise what a pathetic and (surprisingly) vulnerable character he is (though he's still utterly loathsome).
Upon its release many saw the film as a political allegory with the thief representing the tyrannical Thatcher, who subjugates the dutiful workers (the cook) whilst ruining Britannia (the wife). This behaviour is all ineffectually opposed by left wing intellectuals (the lover). Whether or not this is true, indeed whether or not you love or loathe this film, it is a powerful experience that will linger with you for quite some time.
My Score: 9 out of 10
The film's central locale is 'Le Hollondais', a restaurant of the most impeccable quality in every aspect. Night after night the restaurant is attended not only by an assortment of wealthy and decadent noveau riche, but also by low-level gangster Albert Spica (Michael Gambon) accompanied by his tormented wife Georgina (Helen Mirren) and a consortium of pimps, hit-men and psychopaths. Each evening Albert treats the dining area of the restaurant like his court, spewing out vile speeches of ignorance and bigotry, making unqualified criticisms of the cuisine and assaulting any of the other diners if they object to his hog-like behaviour. The chef (Richard Bohringer) despises Albert, but presents a façade of obedience and servitude to avoid any maltreatment from Albert and his cronies (much like the other dining guests, who exhibit remarkable patience with the revolting Albert). Georgina seems resigned to marital martyrdom, but also sees the ridiculousness of Albert's arrogance and pomposity (though she rarely contradicts him, he hits her with the exquisitely calligraphic menu when she does). However, one night her eyes meet Michael's (Alan Howard), an intellectual who sits quietly in the corner of the restaurant, delicately eating his meal whilst engrossed in his book, seemingly oblivious to Albert's loud displays of crudeness. Lightning (proverbially) strikes and with little hesitation the two make for the Ladies toilet, where they engage in a passionate tryst in one of the cubicles. And thus the cycle begins; each night Albert continues his rants and consumption of excessive amounts of food, whilst the cook assists Georgina in finding hiding places for her and Michael to make love. However the naturally distrustful Albert soon realises he is a cuckold and orders that lover be killed by having each page of his book thrust down his throat with a sharp spindle. Georgina, however, is able to turn the tables on Albert, which leads to the films shocking denouement where the thief receives his just desserts in a manner best described as poetic justice.
So what is the film about? Is it a darkly humorous political satire on our materialistic times? Is it exploitative pornography coupled with scenes of unnecessary brutality? Or is it simply a story about a cook, a thief his wife and her lover? This is not an easy question to answer; the film's political undercurrents are intentionally enigmatic and vague, Greenaway certainly isn't handing us the answers on a silver platter (in interviews he refuses to talk about his film's subliminal meanings) and we are left to our own devices to discern the films message (if indeed it possesses one). Whilst one could simply accept the film as an updated Jacobean tragedy mingled with the savagery of a Charles Bronson revenge flick, this would rob the film of its allegorical significance, which the film most certainly possesses (in a strangely subversive way). I personally tend towards the argument that 'The Cook the thief his wife and her lover' is Greenaway's manifesto for his disgust at Britain's social hierarchy; the excesses of the wealthy, their subjugation of the workers and their insatiable desire for (as Dickens's Oliver would put it) 'more'.
The quartet of main actors give performances of uninhibited power; they must metaphorically (and in the case of Helen Mirren and Michael Howard, literally) bare all. Each inhabits their character perfectly; the dour, soft spoken Richard, who subversively undermines Albert's authority by assisting Georgina in her sexual caprices, is played with model restraint and calm by Richard Bohringer (although his thick French accent is sometimes hard to comprehend). The part of Lover is less straightforward (he says nothing for the film's first 40 minutes) but Michael Howard acquits himself well to a rather limited role, the real tour de force performances, however, are delivered by Mirren and Gambon. Georgina's transformation from abused wife, to daring lover, to seeker of vengeance is perfectly portrayed by Mirren, she is the film's defiant heroine and earns our sympathies for her desperate plight. As Roger Ebert surmised so aptly 'Gambon plays Albert as the kind of bully you can only look at in wonder, that God does not strike him dead' he is the epitome of excess (gastronomically, egotistically, financially etc.) and lacks any redeeming features, but Gambon also has the talent to give a performance that makes us realise what a pathetic and (surprisingly) vulnerable character he is (though he's still utterly loathsome).
Upon its release many saw the film as a political allegory with the thief representing the tyrannical Thatcher, who subjugates the dutiful workers (the cook) whilst ruining Britannia (the wife). This behaviour is all ineffectually opposed by left wing intellectuals (the lover). Whether or not this is true, indeed whether or not you love or loathe this film, it is a powerful experience that will linger with you for quite some time.
My Score: 9 out of 10