By Jonathan Monovich.
When you’re making a film, you’re showing characters’ lives and if it’s important, you have to actually show it. You shouldn’t be afraid that you’re going to be boring.”
(At the 59th Chicago International Film Festival)
For the last thirty years, Trần Anh Hùng has been writing and directing some of the world’s greatest films. His first, The Scent of Green Papaya (1993), won the Prix de la jeunesse (Award of the Youth) and the Caméra d’Or (Golden Camera) at the Cannes Film Festival. From the beginning, it was evident that he was a great talent. His next two films, Cyclo (1995), winner of the Leone d’oro (Golden Lion) at the Venice Film Festival and The Vertical Ray of the Sun (2000), continued to explore his homeland of Vietnam and solidified that he was a true auteur capable of telling seemingly minimalist yet vastly complex stories much like his idol Robert Bresson. Having moved to France at the age of twelve, he quickly embraced the nation’s inimitable culture. The ways of the French are very much engrained in his approach as a director, and his passion for cinema cannot be ignored. Having gained an appreciation for literature at a young age, his filmic adaptation of the Japanese literary classic, Norwegian Wood (2010), is one of the most profound tales of nostalgia and the inquisitiveness that comes with youth. Six years later, he fully embraced his French upbringing with Eternity (2016)—a moving story of genealogy based on the novel L’Élégance des veuves.
Trần Anh Hùng’s newest film, The Taste of Things, is a love letter to France. A period piece set in 1885, The Taste of Things is a passionate tale of love between a personal cook, Eugénie (Juliette Binoche), and the renowned chef, Dodin (Benoît Magimel). From the beginning, the film recognizes both cinema and cooking as art forms. The sounds of the kitchen formulate a sonata, in place of the director’s usual affinity for classical and rock music, to supplement the stunning choreography of the protagonists’ intricate meal preparation. Throughout the film, cooking is compared to science and art, and like cinema, it is both. With Binoche and Magimel’s real life romantic past, their on-screen chemistry is incredible and makes the film all the more enjoyable to watch. Though Dodin’s pursuit of Eugénie’s love requires persistence, their mutual admiration of gastronomy, and life in general, makes them a perfect match. Most importantly, the film showcases the beauty of being and the joy that food provides us in satisfying our senses and serving as a gateway to conversation/connection with others.
Fresh off of winning the Prix de la mise en scène (Best Director) at Cannes and being honored with France’s entry for the Best International Feature Film at the Oscars, I had the pleasure of speaking with the very kindhearted Trần Anh Hùng at the world-class 59th Chicago International Film Festival. Preceding a “Spotlight” screening (the festival’s distinction for award-winners and critical favorites) for his latest and greatest film, The Taste of Things, we had an enjoyable conversation just before he headed back home to Paris the following day.
The Taste of Things will soon be released theatrically in the United States by IFC Films.
First off, I want to congratulate you for winning Best Director at this year’s Cannes Film Festival and for all the success with The Taste of Things. Watching your film was some of the most fun I’ve had in a long time. Thank you for creating something so enjoyable to watch and for taking the time to talk with me.
Thank you! Thank you!
In the film, Dodin is at first skeptical of Eugénie’s choice of the pot-au-feu (boiled beef and vegetables) dish for it is so simple, but he quickly recognizes it’s also “so French.” I think that The Taste of Things is also “so French.” Cinema and France are inseparable given the nation’s rich history of the art form, and France is also very well known for culinary arts. Can you please speak on how France’s love for both cinema and cuisine influenced The Taste of Things?
For me, cinema is a language. It’s not French, or American, or Japanese. If you are making a movie, you have to speak this language of cinema in a sophisticated way. Then, if you speak this language of cinema in the right way, your film will look either French, or American, or Japanese somehow. I came to France when I was twelve years old. I didn’t suffer from the fact that I was away from my country of Vietnam because everything was new for me in France. My curiosity helped me to really enjoy everything about France. What I learned and saw in France was wonderful for me. I quickly discovered the way French people talk around the table is quite beautiful. When I was young and eating at the table, the families would ask the boys and girls “can you share what you’ve read lately?” So we would have to explain what we thought about books and what we liked/disliked about them. It was quite a challenge, and I was at first afraid to be asked these questions. I really find this to a beautiful part of French culture, though. Then, when I grew up, I recognized the feeling of measure in French art. The French never do something over the top and never act crazily. They always keep things in a certain measure. When I was making this movie, it was very important for me to give this feeling. That’s why the characters in The Taste of Things are never overdoing it in their relationships. We never see them hugging or doing those kinds of things. They stay in a very elegant manner. They act very respectfully, choose their words very carefully, and they genuinely listen to each other which is something that I really appreciate about French culture.
It’s something that I was looking to do for almost twenty years. I think that it was the right time for me to do it now. It’s only now, at this age, that I really appreciate simple things….”
I was fortunate to study for some time in Paris a few years ago and really loved it. The culture there is incredible and art/education are tremendously valued. From what I saw, the French really love to soak up the knowledge of cinema and literature. It’s truly engrained in their people, and I think it’s something that translates to your work. Something else that I noticed with your films is that there is a very clear appreciation for the natural world. Starting with The Scent of Green Papaya through The Taste of Things, your characters always have a curiosity for the world and there is a focus on nature with prevalent sounds of insects, birds chirping, and the use of natural lighting. In this particular film, the close-ups of food show a recognition that these ingredients come from the Earth and the characters really respect that. Can you please discuss the importance of your recurring stylistic tendency of centering on the natural world?
I think that this may come from western movies. What amazes me the most about westerns is that when they fight, sometimes they fall in the mud and come up with blood, sweat, and dirt on them. This is something that’s very physical, and I like this feeling. For me, a movie is the art of incarnation. What I mean is that you put words in the body of the actors, and you also see everything that is physical. The nature and the interaction with water, wind, etc. is very important because if you don’t have this, you just have some people that carry a theme or an idea. They are not living completely. If the people interact with what they eat, for example, they become real for me. So, yes, I think this comes from westerns.
Speaking of westerns, there’s a scene at the very end of The Taste of Things that looks a lot like the famous doorway shot at the end of John Ford’s The Searchers (1956). Is that what you had in mind?
Yes, something like that! I didn’t necessarily think about that, but it definitely has that feeling where they walk through the doorway with the sunlight shining. You’re right.
It’s also mentioned by Dodin in the film that “one cannot be a gourmet before forty.” Did you intentionally wait to do this film until you were past the age of forty as the themes of The Taste of Things are likely more understood with time and the wisdom of life, and is this something you’ve been wanting to do for a long time?
Yes, it’s something that I was looking to do for almost twenty years. I think that it was the right time for me to do it now. It’s only now, at this age, that I really appreciate simple things. Something like a bowl of rice with vegetables or fish is now very precious. It becomes really significant and you recognize that gastronomy is something that’s very important. You also really discover the beauty of everything that’s inside you. You’re right, but what Dodin says is of course not really true. It’s what he believes and he says it throughout the movie, but what we see is the opposite because of the little girl, Pauline (Bonnie Chagneau-Ravoire), who is their apprentice.
I think all viewers will appreciate the film, but those well-versed in French cinema will likely get the most out of it. Earlier, you spoke about the language of cinema and I would like to hear your thoughts on how you have mastered the language of cinema as a director as well as what you would recommend for viewers to become more fluent in the language of cinema to further understand it?
I can only say what works for me. When you are a film director, you cannot train in the way that a violinist can train for weeks or months before a concert. For a filmmaker, you have nothing. On the first day that you shoot the film, everything has to be right. For me, it’s more about building my sensibility and building my instincts. On the set, your time is limited, so you often have to go off of your instincts and move fast to solve problems because time is money. When I was young, I would bring a small envelope with me and a pencil when I would go to see a movie. After I watched the movie, I would write down everything that was important for me. My rule was that it had to fit in the size of the envelope and I had to squeeze everything in so that it wouldn’t exceed the page. Then, I would trash what I wrote. I believe that when you put your thinking in words, it will stay with you forever. You cannot lose it. When you need it one day, it will come out. That’s how I trained myself. You have to watch great movies and then try to analyze them and put them in words. When you are analyzing the films, it should be in the language of the filmmaker and not the language that you read in a review. It’s a different way of thinking. That’s how I approach the art of cinema.
I used to do the same thing! I have always been infatuated with movies since a child, but when I started to become very intrigued by cinema as a teenager, I would write down shots that I thought were interesting, song choices that I enjoyed, and dialogue that I liked. I also once read that Peter Bogdanovich would write his thoughts on a notecard every time he watched a film.
Yes, exactly! If I really liked a movie, something else that I would do is recall the sound of the movie and listen to it without the picture to understand how the combination of music and voices together can be very beautiful. I would also go back and watch the films without the sound, because the most important thing is how you go from one scene to the next and knowing how this works.
That’s fascinating and makes a lot of sense! Speaking of transitions, something that is really interesting about your films is how smoothly everything flows. In particular, the camera work seems very natural and your films are very fluid.
Yes, but at the same time, they are also brutal. Each time that I cut, it’s brutal. You still want to see what’s happening, but then I decide to cut it. There is always this feeling of sharpness when I cut in these moments.
Yes, that’s true. I have also noticed that the characters in your films, particularly Eugénie and Dodin in The Taste of Things, have an immense devotion to their craft. The viewer is very clearly able to understand the inner workings of their minds much like the characters of Robert Bresson’s oeuvre. Those in the world of Bresson are extremely dedicated to whatever it is they are doing and are incredibly focused in their day-to-day lives. For example, in A Man Escaped (1956)you see Fontaine’s (François Leterrier) intense concentration to build the rope or how Michel (Martin LaSalle) meticulously practices in his room in Pickpocket (1959). Everything that these characters do is very specific and for a reason. It’s the same in The Taste of Things. Was Bresson a conscious influence for this film?
You said everything! It all comes from Bresson. What I learned from Bresson is that you need to look at things carefully and that things take time. When you’re making a film, you’re showing characters’ lives and if it’s important, you have to actually show it. You shouldn’t be afraid that you’re going to be boring. If you find a way to show something precisely, then it becomes something that is interesting for the audience to watch. You are absolutely right. Bresson is one of my heroes!
Me too! His films are incredible. I feel that the Bressonian qualities of Eugénie and Dodin as well as the themes of the film are also in part due to the time period in which the film is set. It’s a much simpler time, as compared to today where the world is so chaotic and there are so many distractions from modern technology. In The Taste of Things, the characters live in the moment and their appreciation for life is connected to the time period. I know that the film is based on the novel La vie et la passion de Dodin-Bouffant, Gourmet, but I’m not familiar with it. Would you agree that for The Taste of Things to work, it’s important that it’s set in the late 1800s?
Yes, of course. It’s important because it’s also very much related to the light. If I were to make a movie about cuisine today, the kitchen would look very different because there would be too much light. In the film, there is so much beauty in the color of the dishes that they create. I’m always looking for something that’s more natural. We used a lot of artificial light for The Taste of Things, but we bring a feeling of that light being natural. In the kitchen, we see things in motion and things are never still. In terms of history, this period is also important because it’s the beginning of a very great cook—Auguste Escoffier. He’s the one who brought modern cuisine to the time. In the film, it’s discussed that there were only thirteen years between the death of Antonin Carême and the birth of Auguste Escoffier. The link is very powerful. When you know who these two people are, the impact is enormous.
Jonathan Monovich is a Chicago-based writer and Image Editor for Film International, where he regularly contributes. His writing has also been featured in Film Matters, Bright Lights Film Journal, and PopMatters.