There are few terms in cinema that are more prominent but indescribable than “Hitchcockian”, which we know as referring to films that evoke the spirit of the brilliant Alfred Hitchcock, whose career as the master of suspense is nothing short of revolutionary. There are many signs that a film meets the thresholds to be labelled as such, but the most core details that make a work of art evocative of the director is still actively debated. One of the most succinct and meaningful definitions came on behalf of the wonderful Mark Feeney, who described this style of filmmaking as “a braiding together of suspense, technique, and wit” – and while there are certainly other components that can be added on, this is the primary foundation on which all films made in the shadow of Hitchcock are built. One of the most fascinating recent examples of this principle in practice comes in the form of The Menu, in which director Mark Mylod (who returns to feature filmmaking after a productive decade working in television) works with screenwriters Seth Reiss and Will Tracy (the former being inspired by a particularly memorable dining experience on an idyllic Scandinavian island, which helped in the conception of this film) to cook up a truly unforgettable work of pure, unhinged horror, as filtered through the lens of the darkest comedy imaginable. Telling the story of roughly a dozen characters that find themselves voyaging to a remote island that functions as an ecosystem all in service of a very elite, high-class restaurant run by a draconian chef who has many surprises awaiting his guests, The Menu is a fascinating work, a darkly comical film that employs an unexpectedly liberal sense of horror in putting together one of the most unflinchingly strange satires we’ve seen produced recently, and a film that never backs down from its promise of being truly unsettling, which is primarily the reason it all works so well, serving the viewer with a feast of truly disconcerting realities, sweetened by the promise of some thought-provoking conversations in between the luxurious morsels it provides.

The present year has been a remarkably strong one for pitch-black comedies focused on the class divide, as shown through carefully-constructed mockeries of the upper class and their hyper-dependency on luxury, which has pervaded both film and television and taken viewers from every possible demographics on voyages into lives of the rich and famous, showing that greener pastures aren’t always found on the other side of social division. This isn’t the first time such stories have been told, but it feels like a watershed moment for films that centre on these conversations, because it allows us to see a different side of the subject, where the idea of wealth and excess is no longer viewed as the ideal, but it is shown as grotesque and manipulative, a world that is fueled by dishonesty, selfishness and callous behaviour, which are often rewarded. Being wealthy is akin to playing a game with people in your same economic bracket, seeing who can manipulate their way to the top faster and with as little effort as possible – and art has never been ignorant of this concept, as evidenced by this film and its very clear and concise approach to dismantling conversations on luxury, showing how perilous it can be to depend on wealth as a personality trait, which is unfortunately true of a large portion of high society. The Menu holds up a mirror to society and forces us to confront some very deep issues within ourselves, even if most of us can’t relate directly to this kind of excess being parodied here. However, we do have a surrogate in the form of Margot, a character who exists to be the vessel through which we are momentarily allowed to enter this world. Mylod and the writers are certainly conscientious about the importance of balancing between these perspectives without becoming too heavy-handed, which was an important component of this film, which is so deliciously deceptive, we don’t even notice how disturbing its message is until the very end.

There are few films that can boast as impressive a cast as this, and gleefully put them through the psychological wringer as they go about participating in a truly demented experiment of a film, a bleak and insidious dark comedy that shows very little sympathy for its characters, with the exception of the one outsider who accidentally finds herself embroiled in the increasingly disturbing plot. Margot is the odd one out, and seemingly the only sane person in attendance, on either side of the cloche – and we see this disturbing world through her perspective, which is one driven by an almost disquieting sense of tranquillity, as she seems to be the only one who is resigned to her fate, the one person in this group of characters that seems to understand the meaning behind the chef’s malicious actions, and as a result is unsurprisingly the only one spared from the complete carnage. There are many fascinating ideas that we can find peppered liberally throughout The Menu, which is a film that is driven by the viewer’s ability to suspend disbelief and surrender to the chaos that is hinted at from the very first moment. Mylod seems to be the perfect director to bring this story to the screen, since he is clearly extraordinarily competent, and he has a very keen sense of direction, but he’s also someone who has worked extensively in a medium that is often considered defined more by writers than directors – he is not an auteur in the traditional sense, but rather a chameleon of a director, someone capable of taking a strong script and turning it into an unforgettable film. One can only imagine the challenge that stood ahead of him – not only did Mylod have to translate what was clearly a very ambitious, but somewhat impenetrable, screenplay into a film that is both formally and tonally very unique, drawing on elements of psychological horror and social commentary in the construction of this unorthodox dark comedy, which is as hilarious as it is frightening, which is quite a surprising development, especially for a film that is so deeply ingrained in the satirical elements, we don’t even entertain the idea that this could be a horror until we are right at the heart of the story, at which point escape is not only impossible, it is highly discouraged.

The Menu is such a tightly-wound piece of filmmaking, it often feels like a film inspired by the theatre, not in the sense that it feels limited, but rather that it is a real-time, pressurized depiction of human interactions in motion, where the restrictive space and concrete set of characters prevents the film from employing common tricks that would normally be used in psychological thrillers – there’s very little need to introduce new characters or a voyage into unseen locations (although the brief sojourns where the film does this are brief but meaningful), since the actors themselves are more than enough to tackle this material. The film makes use of an ensemble cast, with many truly exceptional performers having roles – reliable character actors like Judith Light, Reed Birney, Janet McTeer and John Leguizamo are solid additions to the supporting cast, each one of them having terrific moments that feel genuine and interesting, contributing to the over the sense of tension that encompasses the film. However, the best performances in the film come on behalf of the quartet of performers who essentially guide the story – Anya Taylor-Joy and Nicholas Hoult are remarkable as the conflicted protagonist and her myopic paramour respectively, and play off each other exceptionally well (which is not a surprise, since they’re easily amongst the brightest young talents we have working today), while Hong Chau and Ralph Fiennes are the year’s best villains, taking on the parts of the malignant head waiter and the despicable executive chef, the latter being a force of pure evil in his quest to make his guests atone, not only for their misdeeds, but for the sins of the entire wealthy class – and while Fiennes is undeniably a brilliant actor, he touches on something deeper and far more sinister here than he ever has before. There’s a complexity to the darkness, and he spends a great deal of this film developing his character beyond a mere one-dimensional villain. In a career as extensive and diverse as his, it’s quite a surprise that this may be his finest performance, or it as at least one of his most unique, being perhaps the one element of the film that lingers on much longer than any other aspect, which is a testament both to Fiennes’ incredible performance, and the film’s impeccable use of his talents, which is essentially true of the entire cast.

The Menu is the kind of film that manages to take a bold concept (one that would normally be subjected to cynical rejections based on the belief that such a premise could never work, since it is built on very strong but complex ideas, which often don’t translate well into the cinematic form, at least not as it was written here) and turns it into a fascinating project that simmers with intensity and a very deep interest in subjects that may not always be easily digestible, but are at the very least extremely entertaining, as well as thought-provoking in a way that we don’t often see from contemporary films, especially those of this calibre. It joins several other terrific comedies that ruthlessly satirize the wealthy class and their spoiled belief that they are worthy of more based purely on the fact that they have money and influence, two commodities that may mean something in a world driven by consumer-based capitalism, but which is an active liability in the world of this film, where everyone is equal, regardless of class – at least in terms of the harrowing conclusion to the story, which sees a brutal and direct dismantling of the films major themes, done with precision and complexity, the likes of which we may not expect. It’s a fascinating document of a film, a bizarre and rivetting satire that feels fueled by both fascination for the subject matter, and apoplectic rage for the people whose lives are represented in these characters, who are brought to life by a brilliant cast, who are uniformly dedicated to the darker recesses of this story. A scathing indictment on wealth, as well as a peculiar lampooning of social etiquette through the guise of a gastronomical nightmare, The Menu is a brilliant film, and one of the more surprising works of pure horror that we have received in quite a while.