Do we eat to live, or live to eat? For once, this adage isn’t be used to scorn those of us who enjoy an extra helping at the tail-end of our meals, but rather as an entry-point into a discussion on The Taste of Things (French: La Passion de Dodin Bouffant), in which director Trần Anh Hùng intends to explore the intersection between romance and cuisine, two delicate artforms that very few are ever able to master in tandem. Intentions are indeed the most important aspect of this film because this is essentially where it all ends since this is far from a good film, and while it has a couple of moments where it feels promising, almost as if it is offering us the chance to peer behind the curtain and observe the lives of some fascinating characters, it falls apart at the seams almost immediately, which seems to be a common tendency for the director, who has understandably struggled to be taken seriously, permanently viewed as a fixture of the quasi-arthouse, making films that seem like they have artistic resonance, but are vapid dramas masquerading as complex films. His latest effort is not any better, and while the premise of a 19th century restauranteur finding himself forced to cater for his beloved chef (with whom he has had a decades-long friendship that has undercurrents of romance) after an unexpected turn of events is indeed promising, this is where all the merits of this film end, since we quickly discover that The Taste of Things is a relatively thankless excursion on our part as the viewer, since few films lack any sense of satisfaction quite as much as this, an ironic turn of events for a story all about the beauty and cultural significance of food, and we consistently find ourselves frustrated for a number of reasons – the meandering plot, the flaccid emotions, the complete lack of any consistency in terms of the performances, and the many shortcomings coalescing into an uneven muddle of concepts that ultimately prove to be the foundation for quite a miserable experience, a surprising turn of events for something that seemed to be so effortlessly pleasant in theory.

Expectations do not match reality when it comes to a film like The Taste of Things, which tends to be quite inconsistent in all the areas where a more developed film may have succeeded. Hùng doesn’t strike us as a director who is particularly skilled when it comes to a lot of these ideas, and we find that he struggles to tell this story in a manner that is in any way convincing. We have to wonder whether this story could have ultimately been executed better in the hands of another filmmaker since it seems like the entire concept is quite drab right from the outset, and there isn’t much value in the premise. It could likely have been executed with more consistency, and generally an improved sense of how it navigates its main concepts, but it is ultimately such a mediocre story, that we struggle to imagine anyone being able to do much better, at least in terms of the trajectory taken by the plot. The lack of coherency is what we find most unnerving since it wants to portray itself as some sweeping romance, in which these two characters fall in love over their shared passion for food, but we never feel like there is much of a connection between them (which we will speak about momentarily), and the story doesn’t do them any favours either, since it is tonally quite imbalanced. The Taste of Things is a film about the beauty of food and the power of love, but yet it mostly lacks joy – it is a humourless affair, without any moments where we are given the chance to understand why these characters adore each other so much, and in turn, we can never quite grasp the central conflict around their reasons for not being able to consolidate a very clear sense of romantic tension into a relationship. There is a sense of grotesque conservatism, where the film feels regressive – not only is it counterintuitive to the movement towards more passionate, genuine depictions of love that we often see with these stories, but it becomes chaste to the point of being relentlessly dull, and the lack of genuine love between these characters proves that this film is both narratively and tonally corrupted right from the outset.

The Taste of Things is competently made – you may even consider it handsome and quite beautiful in some parts. Yet, this is only relevant to the earlier portions of the film, since it becomes very clear that there isn’t going to be much growth in terms of the story, and that the lavish period details are only there to distract us from the almost non-existent storyline that conveys the illusion of depth and nuance, when in reality it contains nothing of the sort. The film is over two hours of montages of characters preparing food, interspersed with overwrought conversations about love and death, and the director seems to believe that we won’t notice the relatively unconvincing story if he makes the film that surrounds them look stunning. While there is some effort put into the costuming and set design, and it is filmed in some beautiful locations, these elements are not enough to elevate the film beyond its lacklustre story, and it becomes far too heavy-handed at certain points. It’s doubtful anyone venturing into this film will expect some hard-hitting, nuanced examination of French history, and we would not be foolish for anticipating some degree of overwrought emotion – but there is a lack of authenticity that never convinces us to take these ideas at face value and just surrender to the overall experience of the film, which is not all that interesting and is quite bland once we can unshackle ourselves from seeing it as some major artistic achievement. It is vapid and unconvincing, and there are very few moments where the period details make any sense or feel like they are achieving anything of value, and the film is far less complex than it would like to think itself to be, which is one of the qualities that give it a sense of hubris. Hùng seems to be relishing in this kind of showboating, and it leads to a film that would like to make the viewer think that we are watching some immensely poignant work of historical fiction, but in reality, it is a weak story rendered to look beautiful, simply as a way to distract from its dreary nature.

For some, the idea of 135 minutes of Benoît Magimel and Juliette Binoche being coy as they playfully skirt around their clear attraction to one another is an unmissable opportunity, especially for those with a penchant for viewing actors’ interactions through the lens of their personal lives, which is never a good source of conversation when looking at their performances. Putting aside the fact that there is a complete lack of a romantic spark between two actors who are supposed to be playing star-crossed lovers (likely a result of the fact that they were formerly romantically involved many years ago), we find that neither Binoche nor Magimel is putting in that much effort, either in their performances or across from one another – their chemistry is mostly missing, and it seems like they are in two entirely different films. Neither one of them is particularly great outside of a few moments where they do show some promise, usually restricted to the first act, where the film still feels like it has some promise. After a while, we find ourselves slowly losing any interest in these characters and what they represent, and the performances don’t do too much to dissuade us from holding this position. There is a major disconnect between what is shown throughout the film in terms of how these characters are developed, and while Binoche does fit in with the period setting with some success, Magimel struggles to convincingly portray this character, both because he lacks the necessary charisma and because the film is written in such a way that he is never given much to do in terms of being shown as anything more than a cypher, a member of the bourgeois that has a fondness for his working-class colleague, which propels him to step out of his comfort zone in a time of crisis. Neither is particularly good in the film, and there are moments where the film doesn’t quite know what to do with them, which is, unfortunately, a byproduct of the poor screenplay and the fact that the director is more focused on capturing the look of the era, and as a result struggles to find anything of value in these performances.

The Taste of Things is a film as dull and uninspiring as its title, and it has the same nutritional value as the high-calorie meals concocted by the characters, much like the food presented throughout the film, we are fooled into thinking it is a beautiful work of art, when in reality it is an overinflated, dense jumble of ingredients that may seem masterful on the surface, but are completely vacant of any substance once we realize that there isn’t much to keep us interested once the novelty wears off. It is a film that does not deliver what it promises on the surface, but instead becomes even more vapid and uninteresting the further we explore the lives of these characters. There is a level of conservative values that underpin the film that is quite unsettling, and we have to wonder what purpose this kind of sexless, bland period romance serves. It almost feels as if we are supposed to be entranced by the food being prepared (which is not nearly as aesthetically pleasing as we may imagine – in much the same way that the design of the film is accurate to the period, the food is also quite strange), and while there is an argument to be made that we need to look at The Taste of Things as a gastronomic romance, in which the culinary arts intersect with the love shown between the two main characters, there is nothing of value in either regard, outside of mildly piquing our curiosity, a novelty that wears off very soon when we realise where this film is heading, which is not to a particularly interesting place. It doesn’t do anything revolutionary or even notable, and it sometimes feels like too much labour to sit through its exorbitant running time (especially since after the major event that occurs about midway through, there isn’t anywhere else for the film to go), and it just becomes a genuinely dull experience that seems like it wants to be seen as great art, but does very little to earn the title, instead becoming a bloated, flavourless jumble of ideas that lead to nothing value, where the emotions are disingenuous and the storyline is very weak. It’s an uninspiring and non-essential film that carries very little resonance and proves to be conducive to nothing but complete apathy.