Good afternoon, House of Madness feasters:
How far would you go to satisfy a craving? I don't mean running to 7-11 for a bag of Zesty Doritos paired with a Mountain Dew: Code Red; no, no, no, I'm talking about a deep inner craving for something that not only pleases the palate, but also delivers a full-body experience that you're not going to satisfy simply by slipping on a stray pickle at Burger King while inhaling a Whopper. What if for one night your dining experience could take you on a delectable journey through culinary corridors that invigorate your tastebuds, while simultaneously hijacking your other senses in order to achieve an almost cataclysmic, yet euphoric meal of a lifetime? You could make the argument of experiencing this 15-20 minutes after eating Taco Bell, but I'm not talking about making it to the bathroom before filling your pants with questionable 'aftermeats', I'm talking about genuine euphoria that comes directly from your soul, rather than a wrapper. How much would you pay? $300? $500? Surely no more than $1000, right? What about something more valuable than money?........would an evening spent in an elated blissful state be worth the ultimate consequence? If your answer is 'no', then I highly advise reading the fine print before dining at one of Chef Slowik's (Ralph Fiennes) lavish restaurants.
Tyler (Nicholas Hoult) and companion Margot (Anya Taylor-Joy) are waiting dockside for their boat to arrive, in order to reach the secluded restaurant Tyler has chosen for the night's high brow meal. At over $1000 per plate, it's no surprise to see some of the city's finest in attendance, from world renowned food critic Lillian (Janet McTeer), to washed up movie star whose name we never learn (John Leguizamo). As everyone disembarks from the small vessel, they are led through what seems to be a small community where all the restaurant staff reside and call home. All except The Chef of course, he has his own private lodgings, and no one is permitted inside those walls with the exception of Chef Slowik himself. The high class customers are soon led into the dining area, where they are seated with utmost respect and courtesies. This is a fancy restaurant indeed, and if I didn't know any better, I'd almost claim it's a little too over-the-top, with a pretentiousness that would surely make even the Royal Family squirm in their overpriced silk skivvies.
One by one, courses are delivered to the hungry Heffners, each becoming seemingly more extravigant and grandiose than the last. From tiny slabs of meat served on island rocks, to miniscule custards delivered on plates which immitate a painter's palette, the courses roll out, each beginning with a speech from The Chef in an effort to add to the savoury experience by telling a story of pompous proportions. As each course leaves the kitchen of organized madness, the feeling of unease and ulterior motives can't be ignored by not only the diners, but by us the audience as well.
It would be a disservice for me to divulge any more of the story, but I will say this: "The Menu" works so well because it plays its cards so close to the vest, that it actually feels like the audience is unravelling a story at the same time as the characters on screen, and the entire premise of everyone's attendance is being learned for the first time by everyone involved, not just us the viewer. It's also a lot funnier when you learn that John Leguizamo played his character based on the douchey persona of Steven Seagal, so extra props to the man I first met as 'Benny Blanco from the Bronx' 30 years ago, proving that he may have strayed some, but never lost his way. Anyways, you know what they always say: order with your stomach and not with your eyes, and if you're going to save room for dessert, make sure you've looked at the menu first, or you might wish you had done things differently.
Madness Meter: 8.1/10
NB
