Succession director Mark Mylod has an acute eye for the absurdity of extreme privilege. So the preposterous world of haute cuisine is almost too easy a target: not so much about eating as worshipping at the altar of the chef’s ego. The chef in this case is Ralph Fiennes, sporting joylessly immaculate whites and an expression of patrician displeasure. The guests at his culinary temple, run with a cult-like devotion by the ferocious front of house manager Elsa (Hong Chau), are a tasteless bunch: a trio of braying investment bankers, a needy movie star, a miserable wealthy couple trying to buy some meaning into their lives. And then there’s Margot (Anya Taylor-Joy), the last-minute date of foodie fanboy Tyler (Nicholas Hoult). Margot is more interested in sneaking a cigarette than fawning over chef’s sous vide technique. She is the one errant ingredient in the evening’s menu.
Subtle it’s not, but it’s maliciously entertaining. It turns out that revenge on the ultra-wealthy is a dish best seared over a naked flame.
