by Olivia Holder Unidentified Artist Chinese, Qianlong reign, 1736-1795 Cup and Saucer, c. 1760 Porcelain with polychrome decoration and marbled grounds Ackland Art Museum, The University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill Gift of Richard D. Pardue 2015.13.10ab Dating to c. 1760, this polychrome cup and saucer pair makes manifest the transcultural forces that characterized life during the period. Although it was made in China during the Qianlong reign, this set was designed to appeal to the Western eye. Vibrant, whimsical flowers are colored in exotic, bright blues, pinks, and oranges and separated from the rim of the plate and rest of the cup by a scalloped border. The plate’s rim and cup’s body are colored with a marbled blushing pink that nods to the peach bloom glaze that was popular in China during the first half of the eighteenth century. Ceramics with the pink palette that this pair boasts are referred to as fencai (soft colors) or yangcai (foreign colors) in Chinese, and, in French, famille rose (pink family). This palette was used in Europe long before it was seen in China, and some assert that this technique spread to China by way of the Jesuit missionaries living in China (A Handbook of Chinese Ceramics 244). Against the pink background are the painterly branches that frame the symmetrically placed floral sprays and peach blossoms. These four auspicious blossoms symbolize longevity (A Handbook of Chinese Ceramics 256). It is not clear whether this desire for longevity is wished upon the recipient or whether it is directed toward China’s interactions with the West, but with the robust dialogue between China and Europe, it may be both. Source: Valenstein, Suzanne G. A Handbook of Chinese Ceramics. Metropolitan Museum of Art, 01 Jan 1989.

by Madison Schroder A notable aspect of the feast is the use of ornate dishware for the occasion. While morning coffee or tea may not be the first image conjured by the word “feast,” the decoration of a coffee or tea cup may be just as revealing of the occasion of its use and the social class of its users as dinnerware suited for a full meal. Decorated dishware was once something that was likely only possessed by the wealthy, but with advancements in manufacturing, such pieces became easier to mass-produce, requiring investigation of the particular object to make assumptions of who may have used it. The cup and saucer set is comprised of clear glass with strawberry fruit and leaf designs around the circumference of both the saucer and the mouth of the cup, with small yellow-green flower details. It was made approximately in the year 1905 CE, and is attributed to “Steinschönau,” a city in the former Austro-Hungarian Empire. The region, also known as “Bohemia,” was a well-known source of clear glassware since the early 18th century because of their discovery of a much higher quality type of glass. Once the glass had been blown, crafters would engrave, paint, or add gold leaf to the pieces. By the time of the cup, the glassworkers had moved into mass production. The middle class were then capable of purchasing decorative glassware, and could use it for special occasions to create a more upscale appearance than that allowed by plain glassware.

by Brady Gilliam Upon analysis, the Pilsner Glass with Anemones, c. 1890, provides insights into the social environment of later nineteenth-century Northern Europe. The Art Nouveau style of painting on the nineteenth-century pilsner glass, as well as its function as a vessel for beer, demonstrate the appropriation of visual art – a domain once ruled exclusively by the aristocracy – by the Northern European bourgeoisie. Beer was historically the Northern commoner’s drink, but nineteenth-century innovations in beer-making allowed the drink to attain a previously absent level of sophistication in the public eye. Not only was beer-making itself refined, but the drinking of beer and the culture surrounding it as well: glasses began to take various shapes, each having a special function for a certain type of beer. The forms and styles of culinary art that were accepted as fashionable in Europe no longer originated solely from the culture and tradition of the aristocracy. The Modernist art movement reinforced this trend of the popularization of high culture. The anemone painting on the nineteenth-century pilsner glass that is the subject of this essay is done in the Art Nouveau style. If beer seemed coarse in the eyes of the old nobility, then so would have seemed the painting on this glass, with its simple, vigorous plants. By drinking beer from ornately decorated and specially-designed glasses done in the Art Nouveau style, the upper-middle classes of Northern Europe were elevating what was once a peasant’s drink to the level of high cuisine and redefining culinary sophistication.

by Shirley Pu Unidentified artist Beaker and Saucer, c.1735-45 Pierced porcelain with polychrome decoration Ackland Art Museum, The University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill Gift of Richard D. Pardue in memory of Herbert F. Shatzman This beaker and saucer date to the Qianlong period (1736-1795), considered the height of quality ceramic production in Qing dynasty China. It bears the famille rose (French for “the pink family”) enamel typical of the period, introduced in the late 1720s during the Yongzheng period (1723-1735). While the decorations follow the classic use of opaque white enamel as a base, the use of dark outlines is an innovation of the Qianlong period. The Qianlong term for famille rose was yangcai, Mandarin for “foreign colors,” referring possibly to the popularity exported pieces with this technique had in European markets. The floral motif on the saucer and cup is a Chinese design. Flowers were a common decoration due to their universality. The exterior of the cup and saucer are covered in a reticulated honeycomb pattern, with the exception of a painted chrysanthemum on the cup with reticulated petals. This technique of creating reticulated or pierced porcelain is of Chinese origin and known as linglong or guigong, meaning “devil’s work.” The form of the beaker and saucer indicate they were likely produced for export, as Chinese teacups paired with saucers were typically in the form of gaiwan, shorter and wider cups with lids. The beginning of the 18th century saw the establishment of several European East India companies in Canton (now known as Guangzhou), increasing the export of porcelain from China. At the same time, the appearance of European porcelain manufacturers such as Meissen in 1710 would lead to the decline of demand for Chinese porcelain in the second half of the century. The emergence of the new American market, however, ensured that global exports of porcelain remained high. Sources: Li, Huibing. “Porcelain Exportation and Production in China.” Gotheborg. Accessed April 13, 2017. http://www.gotheborg.com/~gothebor/exhibition/huibing.shtml. Nilsson, Jan Erik. “Famille Rose.” Gotheborg. Accessed April 13, 2017. http://gotheborg.com/glossary/famillerose.shtml. Nilsson, Jan Erik. “Reticulated.” Gotheborg. Accessed April 13, 2017. http://gotheborg.com/glossary/reticulated.shtml. Chinese Art: A Guide to Motifs and Visual Imagery, by Patricia Bjaaland Welch

by My Linh Luu The wheel-carved glass cup and saucer (c.1905) were produced by Fachschule Steinschönau company in Steinschönau, now part of the Czech Republic. They embody the movement of avant-garde artists away from the 19th century traditional and conventional aesthetics. Indeed, in contrast to the ostentatious furniture and ornaments imitated the palaces of the French kings Louis, Nouveau Art no longer abides to the old standard of taste. Here, one can notice the simplicity of the décor of the object. The stalk of the strawberry plant is illustrated with fine strokes drawn horizontally and vertically on the sides of the object. The delicacy of the lines and colors as well as its predominantly clear glass surface of the object emphasizes its simplicity. This lack of décor reflects thus the end of the Empire Style in 1815 and a new era for Western Art. At the same time, while monarchies die out and as waves of nationalism become more prominent, countries use their own authentic art and literature to show their independence. In Steinschönau, once part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, glassmakers in Bohemia distinguished themselves as the expert of glass-making craftsmanship, a source of national pride. The theme of nature, represented with a simple fruit plant instead of exotic fauna, embodies a fascination with the natural world as well as a more original approach to art. Ultimately, the cup and saucer embody elegance and simplicity, as well as a way of life that connects, rather than contrasts, with art across social and geographic boundaries.

by Corynn Loebs The Nurture of Jupiter, completed in the 1640s by the French Baroque painter Nicolas Chaperon (1612-1656) depicts the upbringing of Jupiter, the son of Saturn, by nymphs and shepherds in an idealistic and secluded setting (“Nicolas Chaperon”). The mythology of Jupiter tells of the appetite of Saturn, father of Jupiter, who devoured his children to prevent them from succeeding him. Jupiter’s mother, Ops took action to save her child by sending him to the island Crete where he was raised by nymphs and shepherds. The context and time of Jupiter’s upbringing references the Golden Age of Rome as recorded by Hesiod in his monograph, Works and Days (c. 700 BC). Hesiod’s work described the five Ages of Man, the first of which belonged to the gods and was a period marked by prosperity and bounty as well as celebration of the pastoral that declined as man’s ties to the land weakened (Hesiod). As a painting made in the service of exemplifying French political and autocratic values of the time, the copying of a classical myth endorses the comparison of authority between Classical Rome and the new monarchy. The centrality of food to the upbringing of Jupiter also relates to Louis as the first successor who would greatly reduce the power of the ancient feudal nobles, which in turn lessened the communal peasantry lands as ideas about feasting in court shifted. The centerpiece of the painting depicts Jupiter suckling milk from a goat and enjoying the fruits of the abundant natural resources, signified by two honey combs lying at his feet. These basic foods, the rich diet of a god and a complete contrast to the cannibalistic diet of his father, place him in opposition to contemporary values of Chaperon’s time of meat eating as indispensable to the modern diet. Three women and a man attend to Jupiter; one woman holds the goat’s leg in the crook of her arm while another holds a bowl and watches over Jupiter. The third woman picks fruit from a tree while a little girl eagerly tugs at the contents of the woman’s basket. A man struggles with the horns of a goat, alluding to the rape of Jupiter and echoing the masculine anxieties of Saturn which are contained and controlled here between man and animal as opposed to the possibilities of competition between father and son. The upward point of the goat horn draws the eye to the woman picking fruit, creating a cornucopia effect which alludes to the plentitude of the island. The particular myth would have been an appropriate parallel to the young Louis XIV, whose future rule was considered questionable at the time as similar to the situation of Jupiter as he waited out his youth, his future unknown. The hope for Louis to restore France from a tumultuous time period echoes in the inclusion of the two shepherds, the former who is more in balance and reliant on nature and the latter who is closer to the sea and further from the nourishment of nature. This suggests that while the surface of the painting’s subject matter celebrates pastoral bliss, abundance, and intimations of utopia, underneath lays the threat of danger embodied by the rape of nature and cannibalism of Saturn. The right side of the painting alludes to this underside: a shepherd reclines and plays the pipes, an allusion to the god of the woodland, Pan, looking downward with a furrowed brow. The painting recedes to a lone shepherd in the background surrounded by his herd, hinting at the tensions of reliance on livestock rather than natural bounty to survive that will follow the Golden Age. The composition suggests the decline of man from a shepherd with relative freedom to the more complicated life of the shepherd in the back tending to his flock. The background of mountains and water in the distance also suggests the idea of the almost utopian space of the island Crete, where Jupiter is nourished away from the threat of being devoured by his father. Another intersection between ancient and contemporary thought deals with the feud in France between Nicolas Poussin and Rubens. The techniques and ideologies of Poussin, the leading painter of France at the time, and Rubens were in competition to become exemplars for other artists as well as for the monarch. Poussin’s Classical view was judged more favorably than Ruben’s realist style; therefore, Poussin’s style became a model for Chaperon, among many other French artists of the seventeenth century (Fleming 610). The favoring of Poussin’s style over Rubens’ mirrors the outcome of Saturn’s and Jupiter’s conflict: although Jupiter is a threat to his father’s rule he does not succeed him. While the young Louis does become king and relegates the feudal nobles to accessories of the monarchy which makes way for the powerful aristocratic families, his reign symbolizes a turning back to the idealized days before the fall of man as described in Hesiod’s work. Louis’s centralization of power attempts to return France to an earlier period through nostalgia for a golden age, which will bring about a new prosperous age through his reign as the Sun King. Works Cited: Fleming, John, and Hugh Honour. The Visual Arts: A History. 5th ed. Upper Saddle River, NJ: Prentice Hall, 2000. 610-13. Print. Hesiod. Theogony; and, Works and Days. Trans. Catherine M. Schlegel and Henry Weinfield. Ann Arbor: Michigan UP, 2006. Print. “Nicolas Chaperon.” ackland.org. Univ. of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, n.d. 29 Oct. 2010.

by Taylor Burklew left: "Still Life with Hunting Trophies", Jan Weenix, Dutch, 1642?-1719. oil on canvas. Ackland Fund. Ackland Art Museum, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. right: "Still Life with a Pewter Jug, Oysters, and a Lemon", Jan Davidsz de Heem, 1633. Jan Weenix’s Still Life with Hunting Trophies and Jan Davidsz de Heem’s Still Life with a Pewter Jug, Oysters, and a Lemon are both paintings that were influenced by the Dutch Golden Age, which took place throughout the span of the 17th century. The Netherlands dominated trade between European countries at this time, and because of this monopoly, the Dutch were able to access foods that were considered exotic (“Albany Institute of History and Art”). Also, the exponential increase in trade-based wealth complicated the differentiation between the aristocrats and the lower classes. A rise in hunting and importing began to influence the lives of the Dutch, from their everyday lives to the paintings produced in this era. There are visual parallels between these two particular paintings that I will be discussing in this essay: in both paintings, there is an evident struggle toward exoticism being depicted. Jan Weenix’s hunting trophies reflect the end of the Dutch Golden Age, the 1680s-1690s, in which the struggle toward pride and status became more frantic and gruesome; however, the quiet subject matter of Heem’s piece depicts a tamer exoticism. In Heem’s painting, we see lemons and oysters highlighted, whereas in Jan Weenix’s Still Life with Hunting Trophies the focus is on slaughtered animals. The lemon rind in Pewter Jug, Oysters, and a Lemon drapes over the jug, just as the heron’s neck drapes over the deer in Weenix’s painting. Each painting depicts these interdependent struggles between status and exoticism, and finally solidifies their relation with the simple concept of pride and the assertion of power through the feast. At this time in the 17th century, social status in the Netherlands was largely based on income. The lines between social classes were blurred, for there was mobility between social classes. One’s status depended upon wealth, and because the economy was blossoming during this time many people across different classes were acquiring wealth. Because they were no longer financially superior, Aristocrats had to identify themselves in new ways (other than sheer wealth). They turned to hunting to differentiate from the rising middle class, for they could hunt for sport rather than necessity. An appreciation for hunting trophies arose, hence the rise of still life paintings which depict hunting trophies. Paintings with historical and religious subject matter were once popular forms of art. During this time, they gave way to the rise in still life paintings and landscapes (there is an interesting mix of both of these in Still Life with Hunting Trophies). The subject matter of these paintings do not reflect the rise in Dutch prosperity, but the pride aristocrats had in defining their social class through the glamorization of hunting trophies. One can clearly see this pride upon examining Weenix’s painting. First of all, a heron is draped over the deer, as if they have been arranged for this painting. It not only captures the kill that has happened, but celebrates it. Two birds in the far left corner have also been slain, but they sit in the shadows away from the prized game. Even the sunflowers face the quarry, which is not the typical behavior of the plant. Usually sunflowers face the sun, but in this painting they turn toward the quarry, as if the dead animals are the source of light. Another detail that reflects a favor toward exoticism can be seen in Still Life with Hunting Trophies. A monkey watches the scene joyfully, an animal that does not belong in the Netherlands. This symbolizes that the rest of the world, through trade, is coming to the Netherlands and also celebrating the glory of wealth and status. Another significant factor to be considered in Still Life with Hunting Trophies, concerns the means by which the animals were hunted and killed. The background of the piece depicts another deer being attacked by hunting dogs, while the aristocrats approach slowly. This shows the detachment these hunters had to the specific act of killing, although they were devoted to showing off the results of this kill. The animals are not hunted down for the sake of sustenance, but for the purpose of being trophies. Therefore, the hunt is not for physical survival, but for the survival of the aristocratic class. In Gustave Flaubert’s Madame Bovary (1856), readers can see an aspiration to reach a higher class, based on ambition and not actual survival. Emma seeks pleasure through the wealth in the Vaubyessard feast, and barely enjoys the luxurious food set before her (Chapter 8). She only wishes to “prolong the illusions of this luxurious life that she would soon have to give up”. To the Dutch, these hunting trophies have a rosy “complexion of wealth” similar to the guests at Vaubyessard (qtd. in Flaubert Chapter 8). However, in terms of actual sustenance the animals mean nearly nothing. The animals merely symbolize their current position in the upper class, and by painting a scene of the hunting trophies the wealthy were immortalizing their social status. Hunting was not the only means by which to obtain the feast – and pride – during the Dutch Golden Age. Gathering, or importing, was also a means to obtain the exotic and luxurious. This is exemplified in Heem’s Still Life with a Pewter Jug, Oysters, and a Lemon. Lemons and oysters, the subjects of this painting, were not native to the Netherlands, and were therefore prized. The colors used in this painting are colder than those used in Weenix’s piece, which may say something about the difference between hunting and gathering to the Dutch. This painting relates to Gervaise’s struggle in L’Assammoir to obtain a new social class through the feast. For her wedding feast with Coupeau, meats and wines are purchased – but from stores, already prepared for the feast (Zola Chapter 3). Gathering was all that Gervaise was capable of doing, for she could not afford anything more at this time in her life. However, she aspired to prepare the next feast, her birthday feast, because it would make the feast more significant. This painting reflects the upwardly-aspiring Dutch middle class, who used commerce and trade to find their exotic feasts. In the painting, the pieces of the food that should be discarded, such as lemon rind and oyster shells, are used as decoration. The oysters are not cooked, but are to be served raw. Finally, the lemon and the oysters are obviously the central focus of the painting, while everything else fades into the background. This comparison of the paintings allows us to discover some interesting information about the feasts valued during different times in the Golden age. Neither of these paintings is actually about the sustenance being obtained, but the trophies found within the hunting or importing. To the Dutch, there is a pride in owning, or rather, wealth. The actual food gained from either source (animals or lemons) has no significance in the wide scheme of things; it is the way in which the sources were obtained. They are both trophies, meant to symbolize their social status, and by painting these the Dutch were able to immortalize that status. Works Cited: “Foodways of the Dutch Golden Age.” Albany Institute of History and Art. N.p., n.d. Web. 11 Oct 2010. <http://www.albanyinstitute.org/Education/archive/dutch/dutch.foodways.htm Flaubert, Gustave. Madame Bovary. 2nd ed. Norton, W. W. & Company, Inc. , 2004. Chapter 8. Print. Zola , Emile. The Drinking Den. Reprint. Penguin Group (USA), 2004. Chapter 3. Print.

by Emily Draper "Feast of the Dead" by Edouard Boubat. Ackland Art Museum, The University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. In Edouard Boubat’s portrayal of the “Feast of the Dead,” he displays food as a bridge between life and death through a religiously charged, disconcerting scene. This setting lacks the vitality ordinarily required for a feast, alluding to the characterization of this environment as an “anti-feast.” Anti-feasts negate or exclude the values of a classic feast, such as togetherness and communion. Boubat highlights how death is a renewal of life through his inclusion of the dead in this anti-feast to celebrate the Day of the Dead. The Mexican “Día de los Muertes” holiday typically features the spirited celebration of the lives of loved ones, and its festivities encourage guests to both accept and commend the circle of life (Garrett and Soriano). The graves in this photo are set to look like dinner tables. A masked man is displayed as the host of this atypical feast, his anonymous identity representing the entire living community, and those buried below the tables constitute the guests of the feast, receiving sustenance provided to them by the living. This holiday typically features symbolic offerings to the dead, decoratively displayed on tables that serve as altars. The pieces of nourishment placed atop these graves, dead flowers, will literally decompose to provide nutrients for soil-dwellers, which now include the buried guests. This process is representative of the circle of life, a concept which Boubat addresses here while he shows how fleeting nature of life will continue eternally after physical death. It is interesting to juxtapose Boubat’s treatment of the connections between feasting and the dead with a contrasting treatment in Juzo Itami’s 1985 film, Tampopo. In this brief scene, a crying family feasts on a meal cooked by their deceased mother, who experiences a sudden death while serving the food. This clip merges life and death through this family consuming all that remains of the mother’s life, her prepared food, as a means of immediate mourning. Boubat’s interpretation of the feast, inclusive of both the dead and the living, contrasts this by providing a more longitudinal scene in which the concept of death is being celebrated. In The Feast of the Dead, the dead are being served in order to depict death here as an extension of life rather than an ending. The preparation of the feast by the host and its Catholic adornments present the idea that the dead can still participate in the process of eating and obtaining sustenance. By digging the candles into the graves, the man is even creating a physical linkage between the world below and the living world through a symbol of feast and ceremony, as a final touch to communicate how this “feast” is a connection between life and death. Works Cited: Garrett, Kenneth, and Tino Soriano. “Top 10 Things to Know about the Day of the Dead.” National Geographic, 29 Oct. 2019, http://www.nationalgeographic.com/travel/destinations/north-america/mexico/top-ten-day-of-dead-mexico/. Itami, Juzo, director. Tampopo. Itami Productions, 1985.

By Austin Cooper Entitled Drug Store, Robert Frank’s post-war photograph of urban America engages directly with the relationship between food-culture and identity. The print is part of a series of 83 photos captured by Frank, a Swiss, Jewish immigrant, entitled The Americans, which he selected from around twenty-seven thousand snapshots (Lane). The utterly quotidian subject matter of this image is typical of the series, in which Frank focused on oft-overlooked elements of daily American life (National Gallery of Art). In the blurred foreground rests a cake, hidden in its Bakelite container, perhaps the only sense of luxury captured. The ceiling is a sea of advertisements; ten-cent Orange Whip, served in Coca-Cola glasses (the epitome of American consumer culture), seems to be the drink of choice. The walls are sparsely adorned with framed prints, and the only visible floor space is littered with the droppings of a busy soda fountain–light smudges mark dark, pebbled tile. The most striking physical feature is the long, marbled lunch counter, studded with paper napkin dispensers placed every 3 to 4 stools apart. This counter, Frank’s clear artistic focus, divides the scene into two groups based on occupation, race, and gender: those eating at the counter are men of southern-European descent, and those serving from behind it are women of African-American heritage. Despite respective homogeneity in each group, only the group of waitresses resembles a community; each man is simply an individual patron. Food consumption, therefore, separates Americans, but food preparation unites them. The question is: why? Let us first investigate the women’s ostensible unity. Their identical uniforms certainly contribute to the appearance of community: pale dresses, cinched at the waist; clean, white tennis shoes; pulled-back, black hair; accessory headbands. In addition, the most convincing visual evidence that the women constitute a community is found in the back left corner of the restaurant, where two of them toil in close proximity. Preparing food together, the scene-within-a-scene evokes images of Tita and Natcha cracking eggs into a cauldron of cake batter from the film, Like Water for Chocolate. The film illuminates the death-defying bonds that are created between women who cook together; not only does Natcha become like a second mother to Tita (and much more loving than her biological one), but Tita’s recipe catalog allows for her grand-niece to connect with the family’s roots through cuisine. The movie therefore posits that the bonds of cuisine can be even more powerful than those of blood. That cooking unites people certainly holds true for Frank’s piece; the act of preparing food together, even in a commercial setting, creates a strong sense of community amongst the African-American females. Regarding the men, the image depicts the consumption of multiple individual meals, instead of a communal one; at the heart of the matter is the lack of a common, community-building eating space. At the stools—little islands of isolated indulgence—sit the men, physically similar: dark hair, dark eyes, tan skin, black eyebrows. However, despite similar appearances, the men are an atomized crowd, rather than a united clan. Conversation is at a minimum, and anxious, horizontal glances render these men as strangers. To borrow an image from Anthony Lane’s article, Road Show, “half of them look straight ahead, like drivers in dense traffic” (Lane). The lack of shared food also contributes to the standoffish atmosphere: no man is visibly eating, and the wall-facing design of the counter encourages individualism, whereas a table might encourage the natural formation of groups based on proximity. A brief comparison with French literature corroborates this conclusion: Zola’s wedding feast in L’Assomoir features a description of Claude and Etienne “running back and forth under the table scattering the chairs this way and that,” and in Madame Bovary, Flaubert’s feast of bourgeois eroticism features a depiction of Emma’s preoccupation with the lavish “bouquets on the table” (Zola, 81; Flaubert, 42). The soda fountain is therefore drastically different than the café of European glory: where the latter promotes community through its “binding hubbub,” the former serves solely to nourish the busy individual in-between shifts (Lane). The feast, a celebration of community, depends on the table for a shared dining experience, and is thus impossible within the confines of Frank’s drug store lunch counter. Drug Store portrays the vast distinction between food preparation and food consumption in contemporary America. The act of making a meal is still sacred: it brings individuals together to form a community; however, Frank’s photograph shows in parallel that merely eating a meal in close proximity to others is not enough to create bonds of community. A certain procedure, etiquette, and form must be followed in order for a meal to transcend to feast-hood, but that procedure, etiquette, and form is built into the preparation of a meal. Cooking requires that a specific space be set apart from the ordinary, a secular temple of cuisine: the kitchen, but the act of eating can take place anywhere. The relationship between cooking and consuming, thus, falls in line with Mircea Eliade’s model of the cosmos. In man’s “desacrilization” of the universe, eating no longer requires a pre-determined space, so it becomes “profane,” unable to unite man and form community (Eliade 23). Cooking, however, still requires a specific space, a “sacred space,” outfitted with specific equipment: aprons and ovens, which compare to the vestments of Catholicism, and the Aron Kodesh of Judaism (Eliade 23). Cooking therefore requires that interaction with food ascend to ritual, for how else would man rationalize the seemingly magical transformation of humble ingredients to satisfying meal? Drug Store illustrates exactly what can happen when modernization takes a figurative hatchet to the feast-table, and thus the place and ceremony of eating. Concomitantly, it affirms the community-building power of the eternal rite of food preparation. Frank urges Americans to remember the sanctity of food, and the sanctity of space, in order to maintain their communities: to eat together at the table, to cook together on the counter, to live together as l’homme social. Works Cited: Eliade, Mircea. The Sacred and the Profane. Orlando, Florida: Harcourt, Inc., 1987. Print. Flaubert, Gustave. Madame Bovary. New York, New York: W. W. Norton & Company, Inc., 2005. Print. Lane, Anthony Road Show. The New Yorker, 14 Sep. 2009. Web. 5 Oct. 2010 <http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2009/09/14/090914fa_fact_lane?currentPage=1>. Like Water for Chocolate. Dir. Alfonso Arau. Perf. Marco Leonardi, Lumi Cavazos, Regine Torné, Mario Iván Martinez. Arau Films Internacional, 1992. Film. Looking In: Robert Frank’s The Americans. National Gallery of Art, 2010. Web. 22 Oct. 2010 <http://www.nga.gov/exhibitions/frankinfo.shtm>. Zola, Émile. The Drinking Den. London, England: Penguin Books, 2003. Print.

by Katie Friedman Nicolas Lancret was a French painter whose life spanned from 1690 to 1743. Lancret lived through the evolution of the French court, the end of Louis XIV’s “grand siècle” which spanned from 1643 to 1715, and lastly, through the beginning of the reign of Louis XV (Levi xv). The rich time period in which Lancret lived and painted is reflected heavily in his artwork; if viewed in the time in which it was painted—the year of 1730—Lancret’s Dance in a Garden (displayed above) seems most obviously to show the desire for liberation from the rigidity of court life. Louis XIV—also known as “the Sun King”—played an important role in shaping the history of France. After gaining power, Louis built the castle of Versailles and moved the capital of France from Paris to Versailles (Dunlop 205). With the construction of this extravagant castle, Louis XIV calculatingly put himself at the center of attention; the entire country revolved around him—thus the nickname “Sun King.” During Louis XIV’s reign, the royal court was also required to move to Versailles; in this way, Louis could watch closely over his court and suppress any dissidence before it began (Sonnino 65). During Louis’ reign, a de facto code of etiquette was created, and a sort of art of daily performance was developed around this code: “The court was a clear symbol of the king’s triumph over the nobility […] the strict hierarchies, the exacting etiquette, the exquisitely arranged rituals […] symbolic meaning governed every act, gesture, garment, or word…etiquette that imposed a life of endless attention to detail and horrifying boredom on its participants” (Sonnino 66). Louis’ court was expected to act a certain way, walk a certain way, talk a certain way, eat a certain way. For the court, it became as if their entire lives were a spectacle: “Louis manipulated the nobility…turning them into decorations, mere mannequins around his throne” (Sonnino 66). And when Louis XIV’s great grandson, Louis XV, gained power, the lives of those in the court hardly improved; they were still expected to live at Versailles, and they were given little to no freedom (Dunlop 463). Nicolas Lancret’s painting, Dance in a Garden, portrays an aristocratic scene in which a group of people has gathered for a meal. Lancret created this painting fifteen years after the end of Louis XIV’s reign during Louis XV’s reign, so it is interpretable as a commentary on the political nature of the time. Although it is unsure exactly which years Lancret intended to illustrate in Dance in a Garden, the mood of the painting fits the time period between the late 1600s and the mid 1700s. In the painting, a group of people appears to be dining in the woods—they seem to have chosen this spot in order to hide or to escape. Similar to the reign of Louis XIV in which he was the center of France’s attention, this group of diners captures the spotlight—both literally and figuratively—in this painting. The group of men and women are gathered around a fine table that is clothed in a white tablecloth and nestled under a white tent, yet trees surround them on all sides. A servant stands on the periphery of the tent. The elegance of this table setting suggests that although the aristocrats enjoy luxury, they prefer partaking in this indulgence at their own will and not as subordinates. Some of the characters in the painting are eating, some are laughing, some talking, and some even dancing. The detail of the piece of art intensifies as the viewer gets closer, and for the most part, the peoples’ faces appear to show contentment. Although some of those sitting at the table are observing the dancers, the stares appear to simply signify attraction to the dancing. There is food and drink on the table—not a lot, though—so the diners seem to be brought together not only by food but also by an element of comradery. The lighting of the painting focuses the viewer on the actual feast scene itself; the dark, dull colors of the forest contrasted with the soft, light colors of the table, tent, clothing, and faces make this scene the center of the painting—the scene on which the viewer’s eyes instinctively focus. Even further, the bright, more vivid colors of the two dancers’ clothing signify extreme release; they are the ultimate escapists. In the comfort of the feast, these two characters are able to transcend the reality of the typical confines of their situation and live only in the present. As exhibited by the open, white sky shining down over the table in the painting, these aristocrats they have found an escape—they have found a degree of freedom away from the shadows of court life. These aristocrats chose seclusion, then, as a means of emotional release. Interestingly, they are joined together by a meal; they share in each other’s merriment through the breaking of bread. In this sense, this scene is what one would consider a real feast; though there is not an extravagant amount of food, there is a celebration that unites persons over food and allows them to let go of inhibitions and to slip away from the restraints of habitual life. Works Cited: Dunlop, Ian. Louis XIV. New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1999. Print Levi, Anthony. Louis XIV. London: Constable & Robinson Ltd, 2004. Print. Sonnino, Paul, ed. The Reign of Louis XIV. Atlantic Highlands, NJ: Humanities Press International, Inc., 1990. Print.

by Sara Junuzovic and Dain Ruiz “Hot Dog Bridge” is a color lithograph by Russel T. Gordon that shows a comically large hot dog serving as a bridge for a gap in two cliffs or a regular-sized hot dog serving as a bridge between a comically small gap. Framed above the hot dog bridge is a colorful rainbow in a cloudy, bright sky that stretches from cliff to cliff. With this piece, Gordon “searched for those universal truths, which best expressed his own perspective on humanity” (MacDowell Organization), and we are left wondering why Gordon chose to include the hot dog as a way to express humanity. Through his painting, Gordon appears to emphasize the importance of humanity in feasting; however, many questions can be raised when looking at Gordon’s piece from the perspective of the feast. If a hot dog can unite American society, is it enough for it to be considered a feast? To what extent does a meal have to be lavish or complicated for society to praise it as a feast? Does a simple hot dog have the same power to quench hunger as an upscale French meal might? In his search for truths, Gordon likely found food to be what brings people together, and more specifically, the hot dog. The placement of this hot dog furthers this as it serves as a bridge, potentially one to unite American society and have everyone live in unity; symbolically, without it, anyone attempting to get over from one cliff to another would undoubtedly fall into what seems like an infinite pit. The hot dog is a simple, cheap food that is typically used at many types of events, such as the fair, a baseball game, or even a neighborhood cookout. The line that connects all these events is the idea that they all function as a way to gather people in one place, serving as symbols of community regardless of background. The hot dog serves as the quintessential American meal that is the bridge between two sides that may not have anything in common. This piece by Gordon emphasizes that the most important quality of the feast is community rather than the lavishness of the food. Without the need to be extravagant, simply enjoying a hot dog in a space with others can satisfy our hunger and serve as a feast that connects us all. He also challenges the notion that feasts must be lavish as the hot dog, a humble and inexpensive food, takes center stage in bridging societal gaps as the essence of a feast lies in the community rather than the opulence and complexity of the meal itself. As it is a symbol of unity, it transcends the mere act of satisfying one’s appetite, making the hot dog as fulfilling, if not more so, than an upscale French meal. Contrasted with this thought is the division that is present without this food. Without the bridge and human connection of the hot dog, the gap between these opposing sides grows large as they have nothing to relate to with each other anymore. The comically small hot dog perspective of the piece emphasizes how small of a bridge is needed to actually connect people. The message is that even an object as small as a hot dog can serve as a bridge that people can walk on to make it to the other side and relate to others. On the other hand, the comically large hot dog perspective serves as a representation of how important the hot dog is as a bridge. The largeness of the hot dog equates it to the size of real-life bridges such as the Golden Gate Bridge or the Brooklyn Bridge. As the hot dog gets bigger, it becomes more instrumental by having the ability to lead greater groups of people across the gap and to the other side of the cliff. Gordon’s use of vibrant color, the addition of a rainbow, and the comedic effect from his use of perspective add a complex layer to the idea of bridging the gap between people. The rainbow, colors, and comedy bring back a sense of childhood wonder and genuine emotion in the viewer. Additionally, the non-lavish nature of the hot dog chases away the complicated thoughts from the mind of the viewer and leaves only the basic thoughts of a child. By creating this childlike painting, it reminds the viewer of what it was like to once be a child eating a hot dog. A child does not worry about socioeconomic status or racial discrimination, and the rainbow and infinite laughter remind the viewer of this time in their lives. The gap and bottomless pit of separation seems to get smaller as the idea of feasting a hot dog underneath a rainbow leaves the viewer in this childlike state where those worries no longer hold value. Work Cited “Russell T. Gordon - Artist.” MacDowell Organization, www.macdowell.org/artists/russell-gordon.

by Alexander Thornburg In the painting Still Life with Hunting Trophies by Jan Weenix, the artist displays all the violence of feasting, exposing parts that are usually hidden, and makes it obvious how feasting is inherently violent. Weenix depicts the mangled corpses of hunted game, framing them with the tools of the hunt and permits the spectator to view an ongoing hunt immortalized in the background of the painting. The genre of works of art that Weenix participates in here, called game pieces, generally were painted for an influential, aristocratic, class of individual in the late 1800s to display their opulence and emphasize their wealth to guests. More strikingly, this painting emphasizes violence and the exploitation of nature by the aristocracy in the name of vanity. While to the lens of anyone unfamiliar with the more gruesome acts of hunting it may seem to be a particularly tasteless and cold work of art, the owner of this particular game piece would feel pride at their guests viewing it. Weenix desires to emphasize the owners wealth through the painting, aggrandizing the basic instruments of hunting and inlaying gold in items as simple as falconry hoods and intricately decorating the gun. Moreover, Weenix depicts the crest of the owner on the cage in order to emphasize their status even further. An exotic monkey helps to add to the allure of the piece for those of the aristocracy as it suggests a level of wealth capable of surpassing national boundaries. This piece illustrates, for the owner, how far their power spans and their command over those beneath them - in the illustration of the loyal dog - as well as their capability to continue the hunt for as long as they desire with the background of the piece. While the above might be true for one well-versed in hunting and of an aristocratic class, the opposite becomes true for a viewer unfamiliar with these social circles. The scene instead leaves the viewer sickened, and while the piece itself might be displayed as a trophy in one’s dining hall to remind guests of their wealth, it also seems to suggest the lengths at which the owner may go to preserve their overindulgent way of life. In the forefront, Weenix depicts the mangled corpses of a deer and a crane, boxed in by the gun, dog, and cage, which all serve as reminders of the tools that helped to hunt the beasts. Sunflowers turn down towards the corpses, almost as if they are weeping at the loss of life displayed as trophies. The dog itself, another tool of the hunt, looks saddened. His eyes are reddened, refusing to look at the kill, and ears downturned. The monkey, enraged and beating his chest, similarly displaced from his home further illustrates the lengths that aristocracy is willing to go in their exploitation of nature and colonialism. The cage itself takes on a new meaning, no longer is it emphasizing an owner’s power and ability to subjugate animals, but instead it becomes a symbol of colonialism as their crest serves as a flag to those whom they’ve conquered. Moreover, the ongoing hunt in the background seems to immortalize the process of the hunt, the darkening sky and barren desert that the hunters are coming from suggesting more than just a simple hunt, but an apocalyptic and doomed scene playing out in the background of a tragic funeral. The painting is enigmatic and subjective; relying on the interpretation of the viewer as to whether it will disturb, or please.

Carnality and Consensual Consumption by Michael Palumbo Cheol-su Park’s 301/302 (1995) is a Korean film which examines the struggles of two aloof neighbors, the titular 301 and 302, named for the numbers which designate their apartments. The two are true foils: whereas 301 is a compulsive cook and binge eater who frequently revels in casual sex, 302 is a quiet and reserved writer who is vehemently disgusted by both food and sex. As the two become acquainted, the intensity of their relationship grows as 301 compulsively tries to make the terrified 302 eat. Through these two characters, 301/302 explores the relationship between food and sex, as well as the idiosyncratic lifestyles of modern, independent Korean women. Park frames 301/302 as a murder mystery told through a series of flashback sequences. Following the bizarre opening credits, which feature frames of spilled blood on cold metallic surfaces, we see a food-obsessed 301 recount her interactions with 302 in the days before her disappearance. 301 describes how she tried to force the anorexic 302 to eat and enjoy her own carnality. Their relationship escalates over the following days, as 301 painstakingly prepares meals for 302, which ultimately are thrown in the trash. Their relationship comes to a climax when 301 discovers that 302 has been disposing of all the dishes she has so carefully prepared for her. As 301 force feeds 302 the food straight from the garbage, we are offered our first glimpse into 302’s backstory. As a young girl, 302 was sexually abused by her step-father and once inadvertently killed another young girl in an attempt to take revenge upon her abuser. As an adult, she claims “My body is filled with dirty things. Well, how can I throw a man or food into my body?” In return for her gut-wrenching story, 301 offers her own story of the loveless marriage which she was trapped in for years. When 301 realized that her husband was having an affair on their anniversary, she secretly cooked the dog he loved more than her and fed it to him for breakfast. In her loneliness following her divorce, 301 obsessively turned to food, using it to complement her carnal nymphomania. The neuroses of both 301 and 302 were driven by neglect and abuse from their would-be loved ones. Their broken relationship with food and with their bodies is driven by broken relationships. Having laid their cards on the table, the neighbors come to an impasse. It is clear to 301 that 302 will never be able to eat or enjoy sex. Likewise, 302 realizes that 301 will never relent from forcing food upon her. Resigned to failure, 301 remarks “The food for you does not exist anywhere in the world.” An unusually sensual and touchy 302 replies “At that time, did the dog suffer very much?” Realizing the solution to their predicament, 302 strips naked and offers herself to 301, who strangles her and prepares a stew from her body. In the closing moments of the film, we see an apparition of 302 smiling as she eats her own flesh. 301/302, as narrated by 301, seems to conclude that the solution to modern life for the Korean woman is moderation. Both 301 and 302 practiced extreme relationships with food and sex. Whereas one was enamored with carnality, the other was deathly afraid of it. In the killing of 302, both found their cures. 301, in consuming the flesh of the austere 302, symbolically adopted a portion of her moderation. Likewise, 302 found release from her abuse not in consuming (and thereby perpetuating the cycle of “consumption” to which she fell victim) but in consensually being consumed. 301/302. Dir. Cheol-su Park, Perf. Eun-jin Pang and Sin-hye Hwang. Koch Lorber Films, 1995.

Food Bringing People Together by Jalen Heyward The Adventures of Food Boy (2008) is a Disney Channel Original Movie about a teenage boy who discovers he has the ability to generate food from his hands. This film displays how food can be used to bring people together and it shows food being used not only as nourishment for the body, but nourishment for social well being and relationships. The main character, Ezra Chase, is a high school student who is trying to boost his resume for college applications. With his resume in mind,Ezra decides to run for class president. Ezra is quirky, nerdy and is often challenged into eating outrageous and disgusting food combinations by his “friends”. Some of the other students doubt Ezra will win class president because no one knows him, however he believes that he can win. Ezra campaigns by conducting food challenges and eating bizarre foods in the cafeteria to make a name for himself. When the time for campaign speeches arrive, Ezra starts to notice physical changes. Ezra notices that his hands smell like food at random times and that he can shoot food out of his hands. While giving out his campaign speech, he starts to shoot pastrami out of his hands uncontrollably, hitting his opponent and members of the audience. Ezra immediately runs into the bathroom and starts to shoot out mustard, bread and ketchup. The crowd find his speech hilarious and cheer him on as flees the stage. Initially Ezra is flabbergasted about his ability and cannot control what type of food is made from his hands, however a day passes since his incident and his Grandmother gives him an explanation. Ezra learns that him and his grandmother both share this food making gift and she explains that the gift has been passed down for generations. People with this gift have been at the center of advances of food and recipes for thousands of years. She gives many examples of figures in history who had the gift including, August Corpus who was the first person to make sense of making edible items from his hands by introducing cooked meat. She also gives an example of a pharaoh with the gift who created beans and rice on the same place, creating a revolutionary method of eating for the poor. His grandmother aspires to be impactful and extraordinary with her gift just like their ancestors and encourages Ezra to do the same. Ezra considers this gift to only be useful for late night snacks and fears that it will interfere with his academic career in college. Eventually Ezra practices utilizing his gift and impresses his friends and peers, creating a new reputation for himself. His gift and new gained popularity starts to make his social life and academic life spiral out of control and he learns that he has a chance to give up his gift. Ezra’s thought of giving up this gift was changed by an elderly man who takes him in to practice his gift. The elderly man instructs Ezra to create ingredients for a meal that he will prepare. Ezra tastes the meal and it is surprisingly good and when he is told that it is oatmeal he is astonished. The elderly man states “Even oatmeal prepared properly, can be a feast”. He explains to Ezra that he once had the gift but lost it because he did not use it. He regrets not using his gift and tries to convince Ezra to not make the same mistake. The end of the movie results in an altercation between Ezra and Garrett, his campaign opponent. Garrett taunts Ezra by throwing food at him eventually causing a gigantic food fight in the cafeteria. Garrett and Ezra are called to the principal’s office where they are questioned. Garrett keeps denying that he started the food fight. Eventually Ezra realizes that Garrett needs the presidency more than he does and he lies about starting the food fight in order to put an end to their rivalry and disagreements. Overall Ezra’s ability to create food and the food he produced transformed his reputation from being a zero into the school hero that everyone admired. The students’ admiration of him and his food can be juxtaposed to society’s admiration for food in general. Even before Ezra knew about his gift, eating bizarre foods was the foundation of his friendships. Ezra’s contribution with the gift includes temporarily obliterating the social divide between stereotypical groups within his high school as he brings people from all different backgrounds to support talent. It is also ironic how a food fight is what brings Ezra and Garrett closer together as well. His ability to create food also strengthens his relationship with his friends and his grandmother as they practiced utilizing their gifts together. Ezra’s gift with food and the use of food in general also improves his social well-being because throughout the film he learns the importance of developing talents and using them wisely, the importance of staying true to oneself, and the importance of treating others with kindness and respect. Nothing brings people together like good food, and because Ezra could produce it from his hands, community and synergy within his school were bound to happen!

Food as a Symbol of Societal Identity in The Age of Innocence by Amanda Kubic Martin Scorsese’s 1993 film The Age of Innocence, an adaptation of Edith Wharton’s famous 1920 novel, depicts the upper-class society of 1870s New York in all of its decadence, decorum, and deceit. While the film’s primary focus is on the illicit love affair between characters Newland Archer and Ellen Olenska, one is inescapably aware of the role “society” plays in the film with its constant presence and influence in the lives of individual characters. Such a society serves as both an oppressive and oppositional force to these two lovers by constantly “asking them to pretend” (The Age of Innocence) rather than reveal their true desires. Indeed in nearly all aspects of life, New York society urges individuals of the elite class to be content with the status quo and to embrace artifice over sincere passion for the sake of appearances, affluence, and societal harmony. Scorsese periodically reinforces this representation of the 1870s New York elite through his use of food and feasting in the film. The scene presented here depicts a dinner party thrown for the Duke of St. Austrey at the mansion of Louisa and Henry van der Luyden—the richest and most socially influential family in the film. In this scene, as well as throughout the rest of the film, the food served and the manner in which it is served is representative of the oppressive artificiality and frigid snobbery that generally characterizes “society” in The Age of Innocence. The food served at the dinner party hosted by the van der Luyden’s, as well as at other points in the film, embodies qualities of the 1870s New York elite through its emphasis on appearance versus substance, its coldness, and its obvious expense. The large silver fish served with crayfish and caviar-filled cucumbers, the cold oysters and figs, the sorbets shaped like flowers, and the gelatinous desserts are all presented with such beauty and delicate elegance that they seem almost inedible. Neither are any of these foods truly hearty or nourishing, with some dishes consisting almost entirely of water and sugar, and others, like the seafood and caviar, acting as light, stylish alternatives to more substantial meat and vegetable dishes. The value of this meal thus seems to be in its refined appearance and expense, rather then its actual ability to provide significant nourishment. Indeed, though the narrator declares that dining with the van der Luyden’s is “no light matter” (Innocence), this statement only holds true for the occasion of dining itself and not the actual fare of the dinner. Moreover, the temperature of the food served in this scene is predominately chilled, or at least never at a level of warmth one would normally associate with a hearty evening meal. This frigid and outwardly extravagant display directly reflects the values of the elite society in The Age of Innocence. For such a society, truth, passion, and actual substance of character can all be sacrificed for the sake of appearances. After all, these appearances—of wealth, of social accord, of innocence—are really all one has in a society where what matters is not who one truly is, but, as with the food, how one presents himself. Scorsese uses not only the food itself, but also the concept of the feast or banquet to further represent the deceptive, pretentious nature of the 1870s New York elite in The Age of Innocence. It is said, in reference to their dinner party, that “when the van der Luyden’s chose, they knew how to give a lesson,” implying that the banquet itself, which possesses an “almost a religious solemnity” (Innocence) is a means to define and perpetuate social boundaries—particularly the hierarchy of power. The business of who gets invited to a dinner where “New York’s most chosen company [is] somewhat awfully assembled” (Innocence), who actually comes, who acts as host or hostess, how one lays the table, how many courses one serves, if one includes a dance, or if one has a guest of honor all reflect the values of a society constantly competing for power and repute, and thus “balanced so precariously that its harmony could be shattered by a whisper” (Innocence). In this scene, evidence of such meticulous attention to the details of dining can be observed in the van der Luyden’s use elaborate table settings, display of fine china and silver, and most importantly, their extension of a dinner invitation to Ellen Olenska. By incorporating Ellen into their party, the van der Luydens simultaneously assert and re-affirm their societal power. Ellen’s presence is a “lesson” to the other New York elite that despite her questionable past, she is to be welcomed, not shunned by society. The very notion that the van der Luyden’s are even capable of giving this lesson is then a testament to their unquestionable social superiority. Every single detail in this dinner scene thus contributes to the construction and maintenance of a fragile façade of power, societal harmony, and individual character. The individual guest or host is transformed into a dish to be served, judged, and consumed by the voracious masses—a dish forever wary of defying conventional tastes lest he become unpleasant to those he is obliged to please. In Scorsese’s The Age of Innocence, food and feasting are indicative of the pretense and artificiality found in 1870s New York elite society. They also symbolize the hierarchy of power within that society, and the way in which that power is used to maintain a tenuous kind of social harmony. In the van der Luyden’s dinner party, as well as in other parties, luncheons and teas depicted in the film, food not only acts as an agent to reveal the collective identity of society, but also helps define individual identities within that collective, as well as those individuals’ relationships with one another. Work Cited The Age of Innocnece. Dir. Martin Scorsese. Perf. Daniel Day Lewis and Michelle Pfeiffer. Columbia Pictures, 1993. DVD.

Was it Worth it? Food and War in All Quiet on the Western Front by Carson Jolly On the front lines of World War I, food became a luxury as well as a necessity. In All Quiet on the Western Front, this contradiction is shown in full effect. When we are first introduced to Paul Baumer, he is an excited soldier ready to defend his country. Manipulated with nationalism and pride, Paul maintains a positive mindset even after walking by wounded soldiers. When Paul and his friends arrive at the trench, they quickly find themselves facing a bombing. Hungry, cold, and facing death, one of Paul’s friends says: “Be careful what you eat, that's what my mother said.” Noting how many people, including them, underestimated the consequences of war. Later, Paul is dug out of the rubble by a man named Kat, who would later become his mentor. Kat gives him a piece of bread, which Paul devours. After just two days at war, it is clear that Paul is desperate for food. Later, the movie jumps ahead 18 months, and we see Paul and Kat walking through a field, clearly not in battle. They walk over to a house and stop outside the property's wall. Kat asks Paul, “Are you sure this is worth it?” to which Paul responds, “Anything is worth it if you are staving.” Hearing this, Kat scales the wall, leaving Paul to wait outside. After a few minutes, Kat comes running out with a goose; Paul joins him and they flee while bullets from the homeowner whizz past their head (Figure 1). They bring the goose back to base and cook it for some of the other soldiers. While it's cooking, all the soldiers laugh and tell stories. This is the lightest and happiest scene in the movie. When the goose is done, everyone indulges in their meal, and no one speaks. It is not much later that we see Paul, Kat, and all of the soldiers who once indulged in goose rushing towards the enemy trenches. We see a few of those same soldiers die on the battlefield, just mere minutes (in movie time) after they were singing, dancing, and eating. We then follow Paul and Kat as they make their way through the enemy trench, slaughtering dozens of soldiers along the way. At some point, they end up in the kitchen, which is littered with high-quality food. During the middle of battle, Paul and Kat drop everything without saying a word and start eating whatever they can get their hands on. This is a call back to what Paul said earlier about anything being worth it if you are hungry. After a few minutes of overindulgence, the pair returns to the battle. After barely surviving countless battles, the pair hear that a treaty has been signed to end the war. With rations low and morale high, the pair decided to return to the house where they stole the goose, hoping for a feast. This time, things do not go as planned. Kat is shot and dies shortly after making it back to base. Paul is devastated; after surviving hell, his best friend and mentor dies as a result of greed. This is a call back to the last time they stole from the house, when Paul said, “Anything is worth it if you are staving.” Overall, the conditions of war stripped humanity from Paul and Kat, leaving them with two motivations: survival and food. When either of those things presented themselves, nothing else mattered. During wartime, this was vital, but for Paul and Kat, this mindset continued post-war. Under this different context, their actions represented greed and overindulgence rather than survival, which ultimately led to Kat’s death. All Quiet on the Western Front. Simone Bar. Dir. Edward Berger. Dir. Michael Weber. Perf. Felix Kammerer, Albrecht Schuch. Daniel Radcliffe. Aaron Hilmer. Netflix, 2022. Streaming.

Grotesque Goodies: Unidealistic Memories of Food and the Fellinian Style in Amarcord by Sean Sabye “The point is not to idealize life but to live in its rhythm.” – Federico Fellini In a 1984 interview with Mimi Sheraton of Vanity Fair Magazine, legendary Italian filmmaker Federico Fellini described his relationship with food and its impact on his artistry (Sheraton). When Sheraton asked Il Maestro which food scene from his films he would consider his favorite, Fellini gave an indirect answer, characterizing the dinner scene in Amarcord (1973) as the “closest to my own life” (Sheraton). This association between familiarity and partiality is written into the DNA of Amarcord (the title translating to “I Remember”)––a love letter to Fellini’s hometown outside of Rimini expressed through an episodic narrative set during the fascist rule of Italy in the 1930s. Although the film never settles on the story of one character, focusing instead on a multitude of tales told by a colorful cast of gorgeously bizarre townspeople, the narrative most often centers around the perspective of an adolescent boy named Titta Biondi (Bruno Zanin), the assumed stand-in for Fellini himself. The abrasive dinner scene Fellini refers to in the Vanity Fair interview takes place in the Biondi household, most likely reflecting the director’s own experiences of hostile home-cooked meals during his youth. This scene, as well as the wedding feast that ends the film, captures the nostalgic experience of food without participating in the idealization of memory. The film achieves this effect by visually employing or refusing what film scholar Rinaldo Vignati terms a “Fellinian” style: “a baroque, exuberant style, prone to the grotesque, amplification and deformation” (Vignati). While the whimsical and fractured tone of Amarcord often gives the viewer the sensation of a dream, the film’s food scenes ground encounters with memory in some semblance of reality. In his piece “Fame, Lack of Appetite and Disgust: Food in Fellini’s Films and Dreams,” Vignati asserts that Fellini’s food scenes “recall … the material dimension of reality” (Vignati). Memories are most often understood as unreliable, but with the inclusion of food they appear more tangible, especially when supplemented by visual reminders of the harsh or revolting aspects of lived experience. The mise-en-scène in the opening shot of the Biondi dinner scene establishes the claustrophobia of Titta’s home environment, interrupting an otherwise Rockwellian family portrait with the inclusion of a clothesline drooping into the frame under the weight of a single pair of wet socks (figure 1). This juxtaposition of food and wet clothing continues throughout the scene, as we later observe Titta’s mother (Pupella Maggio) reserving the largest pot in the kitchen for the purpose of boiling dirty clothes and rags. The scene’s final example of conflating the succulent and the stomach-churning comes after Mr. Biondi (Armando Brancia) asks Titta about his day, knowing well that his son micturated from a balcony onto a stranger’s hat mere hours earlier. After Mr. Biondi chases Titta out of the house in a tizzy, he returns to the dining room to display the urine-soaked hat to his family (figure 2). The enlarged image of the hat hovers over the contents of the table, problematizing any sense of the palatability often associated with childhood foods. Mr. Biondi even goes so far as to bite the defiled hat out of frustration after Mrs. Biondi refuses to accept that her son would ever do such a thing. Fellini also injects the fascist reality of Italy into the scene with the inclusion of Titta’s uncle, Patacca (Nando Orfei), a known supporter of Mussolini who, despite being confronted with revolting images and intra-familial threats of poisoning, never stops eating. Fascism’s appetite for conquest and presence at the table constructs memory in an unsentimental, critical light. Amarcord ends with a wedding celebration for Gradisca (Magali Noël), the object of desire for many of the adolescent boys in the seaside town. After the toasts conclude and the bride is whisked off by a man dressed in formal military garb, the ceremony’s open field setting contains a lifelessness and realism antonymous with the Fellinian style. The film’s final shot pans over the beige landscape as the last remaining members of the party drift through the deserted space (figure 3). As Hirsch Foster writes of the scene in a review of Amarcord, “the composition is deliberately unstructured, non-pictorial, but it’s also unimpressive––there’s nothing to hold on to. The finale completely lacks the sense of communion or the joyous resolution or the formal beauty which have marked every one of the director’s previous endings” (Foster). Focusing on the abandoned feast, Fellini highlights the ordinary components of memories, imbuing the everyday with the same level of wistful reverence as his most consequential moments. Gradisca’s wedding refuses “amplification and deformation,” rather than indulging in it, detracting from any fantastical exaggerations of romanticized memory in the film’s final moments. In either satiating or subverting the Fellinian style, Amarcord opposes the notion of food’s often glamorized role in the process of remembering. Although the film’s critique of fascism can be tangentially related to food in analyzing the scenes of feasting described here, I believe there is a deeper connection between the two elements of the film that I have yet to unearth. Specifically, I would be interested to see how the ideas proposed in this essay could be connected to the depiction of fascist festivities in the film. Food may even serve as a method of further separating fascism from the political outlooks it opposes, suggested by a fascist soldier’s line, “Comrades, they speak of ‘bread and work,’ but wouldn’t ‘bread and wine’ be better?” Amarcord. Directed by Federico Fellini, performances by Bruno Zanin, Pupella Maggio, Armando Brancia, and Nando Orfei, PECF, 1973. Foster, Hirsch. "AMARCORD." Film Quarterly (ARCHIVE), vol. 29, no. 1, 1975, pp. 50-52. ProQuest, http://libproxy.lib.unc.edu/login?url=https://www.proquest.com/scholarly-journals/amarcord/docview/223105593/se-2. Lyon, Ninette. "Fashions in Living: Giulietta Masina, Federico Fellini A Second Fame: Good Food." Vogue, vol. 147, no. 1, 1966, pp. 152-154. ProQuest, http://libproxy.lib.unc.edu/login?url=https://www.proquest.com/magazines/fashions-living-giulietta-masina-federico-fellini/docview/879274325/se-2. Sheraton, Mimi. “No Fettuccine for Fellini Says Mimi: Ahh-Zuppa!” Vanity Fair, May 1984, https://www.vanityfair.com/news/1984/05/fellini-food-198405. Vignati, Rinaldo. “Fame, inappetenza e disgusto: il cibo nei film e nei sogni di Fellini.” Italian Studies, vol. 77, no. 4, 2022, pp. 435-449. Taylor and Francis Online, DOI: 10.1080/00751634.2022.2094193.

Lester Burnham: From Creepy to Caring by Madison Whalen The Oscar-winning film American Beauty (1999) centers on sexually frustrated Lester Burnham, his micromanaging wife Carolyn, and their angsty teenaged daughter Jane. Set in late 90s suburbia, American Beauty destroys the illusion of the modern-day Norman Rockwell family: a father who sells advertising for a living, a faithful real-estate saleswoman wife, and a cheerleading daughter living in a large house with a picket fence and rosebushes. Beneath the surface, Lester is struggling with an intense sexual attraction to his daughter’s friend Angela, Carolyn strikes up a love affair with a competing realtor, and Jane falls in love with her drug-dealing neighbor. One scene in particular uses food (more specifically, the act of preparing it) to represent a transformation. For the majority of the film, Lester’s food is prepared for him by Carolyn and during meals he acts like a selfish, spoiled, belligerent child. At the end of the film, however, he cooks for the first and only time, revealing a completely different persona: Lester as father, provider, and caregiver. Cooking and being in the kitchen illustrate that Lester is changing from an infatuated man going through a mid-life crisis into a man whose priorities are beginning to realign. Traditionally, the dinner table has been a place for a family to come together, discuss their day, and function as a cohesive unit. In perhaps the most iconic scene of the film, however, Carolyn is harping and nagging Lester about his recent decision to quit his job, and after asking for the asparagus to be passed multiple times, Lester stands up, walks to the asparagus plate, and throws it against the wall – the plate is shattered and so is the illusion that the Burnhams are a functional suburban American family. Food, which so often serves as a vehicle for community and family and an invitation into a sense of “home,” serves to illustrate the sharp contrast between what should be, and what is. In one of the final scenes of the film, Lester has finally succeeded in seducing his daughter’s friend Angela. As he takes off her shirt, she informs him that contrary to popular belief (and the image that she herself has carefully crafted), she is a virgin. With this revelation, Lester seems to come to his senses and instead of sleeping with Angela, he heads to the kitchen and makes her dinner. Cooking a meal for Angela symbolizes two things. Firstly, it symbolizes Lester transitioning out of his mid-life, petulant, self-centered, sex-obsessed persona and back into a traditional “father” figure – caregiver, provider, parent. In the previous scene, Angela asks Lester, “What do you want?” To which he responds, “Are you kidding? I want you. I’ve wanted you since the first moment I saw you . . . You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” In the image above, Lester stands across from where Angela sits, hands braced on the counter, and asks if she would like another serving of food. He then simply says, “How’s Jane? How’s her life? Is she happy? Is she miserable? I’d really like to know, and she’d die before she’d ever tell me about it.” When he hears that Jane is happy and stupidly in love, he begins to tear up and says, “Good for her.” The second thing his cooking does is normalize Angela’s character. For the entire film, she has simply been the object of Lester’s sexual fantasies. As she sits in his home and he makes her a meal, she becomes not a sex object, but a human; she’s Jane’s best friend. Lester begins to treat her more like a daughter and less like a mistress. In essence, cooking and preparing a meal serves to humanize Lester and because of that, he is able humanize Angela. In the still at the top of the page, Lester walks over to the counter to pick up a picture frame holding a photo of his family from years ago – the kitchen is the place where his world begins to right itself.

"What a Life": Music and Intellectual Alcoholism in Another Round by Sean Sabye Thomas Vinterberg’s 2020 film Another Round (or Druk, directly translating to “binge drinking”) focuses on four high school teachers (Mads Mikkelson as Martin, Thomas Bo Larsen as Tommy, Magnus Millang as Nikolaj, and Lars Ranthe as Peter) and their collective experiment to determine if maintaining a constantly elevated BAC (or blood alcohol concentration) of 0.05% will “increase their social and professional performance.” The men attempt to intellectualize their testing of Norwegian philosopher and psychologist Finn Skårderud’s hypothesis by planning a “brilliant psychological essay” about their findings. The film’s use of sound, specifically the juxtaposition of classical and non-classical diegetic music, both communicates and comments on the characters’ academic and aesthetic justifications of overconsumption, conveying the dangers of their perpetual feast. The scene that most aligns with the conventional definition of feasting, Nikolaj’s 40th birthday celebration, also happens to be the scene in which Nikolaj introduces the concept of Skårderud’s hypothesis to the other men. The four friends gather around a circular table at a high-class restaurant, its elite nature marked by the romantic forest murals enveloping the dining room, the attire of the other guests, and (most importantly) the menu––consisting of a Baerii caviar, a Jérome Chezeaux wine from Burgundy, and an Imperia vodka from Russia that “would put a smile on the Tsar’s face.” Nikolaj describes how a maintained BAC of 0.05% will hypothetically make a person “more relaxed and poised and musical [my italics] and open.” Martin initially abstains from consuming any of the top shelf alcohol offered at the meal; that is until Nikolaj remarks on the fact that Martin now lacks a “self-confidence” and “joy” once present in his teaching. As Martin sips the “wheat-fermented and cooled” vodka, the sound of a seemingly non-diegetic chorus of male voices chimes in with delicate harmonies. As the handheld camera pans around the table, it eventually reveals a quartet of male singers serenading a table of guests across the restaurant, re-situating the sound of the chorus in the diegetic reality of the scene. After a relatively long take of a medium-close shot of Martin, the handheld camera pans once more around the table. The chorus’ song overwhelms the sound of the other men speaking as Martin downs the rest of his vodka. This feast acts as a gateway of sorts, introducing Martin to a reality of greater aesthetic awareness and appreciation, which he perceives as exclusively accessible via intoxication. It is the vodka that opens his ears to the music, granting him the ability to reach back to a younger, superior version of himself that could appreciate art, specifically classical music, on an intellectual and emotional level. This grasping at a more advanced aesthetic self only escalates throughout the course of the film, as the men aspire to reach beyond their former personal peaks of excellence toward an association with great artists of the past who were known to abuse alcohol. After a few successful days of continual drunkenness, the four men meet to discuss the potential of elevating their maintained BAC past the level of 0.05%. They cite the work of classical composers like Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky, Franz Schubert, and Klaus Heerfordt as examples of the brilliant potential outcomes of working “at the exact point of being neither drunk nor sober.” As they silently listen to Franz Schubert’s “Fantasie in F Minor,” the men appear elated. It is almost as if their relationship with alcohol brings them closer to comparison with a figure like Schubert. Their experiment could be viewed as a continuation of the work of Schubert, or Hemingway, or any other famously alcoholic artist, ushering their seemingly empirical research into the realm of creative expression. In the scene that follows we see Martin listening to Tchaikovsky’s “The Tempest” while consuming two generous vodka tonics early in the morning (figure 2). This scene marks a shift from the men feeling kinship with alcoholic academics and artists to mobilizing the experience of their art or work as an excuse to get drunk. Later on, we see Nikolaj frantically rushing to Peter’s office to listen to Alessandro Scarlatti’s “Keyboard Sonata in D Minor” so that he may warrant downing a hip flask of vodka. The insatiable brute of addiction has taken over, and the men now feel they must give cultured rationales for their inexplicable urges. This altered motivation becomes most apparent when the film’s diegetic sound is rendered nearly inaudible––the point at which the men realize they have gone too far. They retch, cough, scream and stumble, yet almost all sounds are silenced. Tchaikovsky and Scarlatti feel miles away as the men have breached their own rationalizing efforts. The film’s diegetic sound contrasts the teachers’ unhealthy intellectualization of alcoholism with the inclusion of “What a Life” by Scarlet Pleasure in its final scene. As the men celebrate the graduatxion of their eldest pupils with shots, beers, and champagne, Martin dances to the supposedly non-diegetic sound of the aforementioned pop tune. The music is revealed as diegetic when the pupils begin chanting the song’s chorus while showering Martin in a deluge of champagne foam (figure 1). It’s safe to say that, within the hierarchy of musical significance, a song like “What a Life” would not be considered as culturally notable as something like “The Tempest.” But the film’s awareness of the music’s anti-intellectual nature aids in its depiction of what a healthy relationship with alcohol looks like. When the men attempt to intellectualize their relationship with alcohol, it leads them down a path of self-destruction; however, when alcohol is understood for its harm, its purposeful consumption contains the power of a rebellious act. Drinking could even be interpreted as a recognition of the temporality of life on earth, a means of accepting the fate that has marked us all from birth. The lyrics of “What a Life” adopt this outlook, emphasizing the importance of living while one is “young and alive,” echoing the Søren Kierkegaard quote that begins the film––“What is youth? A dream. What is love? The content of the dream.” Nothing, alcohol included, can restore the fleeting quality of “youth,” yet the love that one experiences in one’s youth need not contain these same temporal limitations. Another Round. Directed by Thomas Vinterberg, performances by Mads Mikkelson, Thomas Bo Larsen, Magnus Millang, and Lars Ranthe, Nordisk Film, 2020.

Evading Slaughter by Breaking Down Borders: Babe the Sheep-Pig by Georgia Jeffrey Babe (1995) is the story of a personified pig who is transformed from potential food to quasi-human family member. Farmer Hoggett wins a runt piglet at the local fair in the hopes of plumping it up for Christmas dinner. Fly, a sheepdog, adopts Babe against her colleague Rex’s wishes. Babe soon learns of his fate and makes a desperate attempt to avoid the slaughterhouse by rendering himself more useful alive. He becomes a sheep-pig. The film upsets our usual understanding of pigs, whose experiences are usually invisible. Nonhuman animals are defined and categorized by humans in relation to what they are utilized for (Stewart and Cole, 2009). These are socially constructed, learned and ingrained in children from a young age. The opening scene of the film establishes the mainstream view of pigs as food. A wooden pig opens up to reveal links of sausages. The upbeat music is contrasted by the dark lighting where each trinket is lit from above, one by one, as the camera pans across the wall. Objectified representations of pigs are juxtaposed to a personified figurine of a pig standing on its hind legs in a chefs hat and holding a pie. For the experienced viewer, this scene is both exciting and sinister. However, younger audiences may not initially see it as the latter. They often have not learned to associate the ‘cute’ animal in the fields with the meat on their plate. Babe (1995) unashamedly addresses that. From the beginning of the film, the audience is reminded of the precarity and violence endured by most pigs. The film introduces Babe inside a concentrated animal feeding operation (CAFO) filled with thousands of pigs inside pens with barely enough room to move. His mother is quickly taken away and loaded onto a truck using an electric shock device. He believes she is going to a happy land, when in fact she is going to slaughter. This scene is reminiscent of the deceit of Jews being taken to death camps during World War II and is somewhat harrowing to watch. The characters in the film are committed to the “binary agency system of animal resources and human capitalism” (McHugh, 2002:162) and are demonstrative of the unease of humans when their categorisations are challenged. At 0:07:45, Fly declares “the bosses only eat stupid animals like sheep and duck and chickens.” When Babe refuses to treat sheep as inferior and argues they are equal, human speciesism is questioned. Throughout the film, Babe crosses category boundaries from farm animal to working animal to entertainment animal and pet. The title ‘sheep-pig’ is of itself a cross between a working and farmed animal. The status quo defends itself using humour and violence (Stewart and Cole, 2009). Rex attacks Babe (0:46:00) for threatening his role as a working animal while Duchess the cat scratches Babe for threatening her position as pet and companion (1:04:00). While Babe’s main concern is avoiding being dinner, Mrs Hoggett’s main concern in her mothering role is with feeding her daughter, grandchildren, husband and cat. Babe (1995) is involved in the “domestication of gendered bodies” (McHugh, 2002:174). McHugh (2002) would argue that the females in the film are separated from active market roles. I argue that they have a key role in raising and maintaining laborers for the capitalist market. Mrs Hoggett is constantly eating or discussing the animals as food. She is positioned in the tradition of the female grotesque as she is physically large and has a seemingly infinite appetite (ibid.). “There is a long tradition of the fat female body as being a site of comedy, usually as object or butt of a joke” (Hole, 2003:315). At 1:21:16, Mrs Hoggett is sat in a hotel room with a group of women when she sees her husband and Babe appear on the television. She faints at the sight with a cup of tea in hand. The scene is both oral, de-eroticizing, but feminizing as the idea of her body still being delicate despite its size is emphasized. While women are expected to provide food for their family, when they consume too much they become objects of humor. Babe (1995) reconfigures social boundaries of animals, machines and humans (McHugh, 2002). The farm moves from an anthropogenic system to a nonanthropogenic system by the end as the farmer becomes no less inseparable from the farm animals and machines (ibid.). Despite Babe’s efforts to navigate the animal hierarchy and escape being considered food, human domination over animals is still evident. The famous line “that’ll do pig” (1:26:00), whilst affectionately delivered, is an order. The shot is taken from the point of view of Babe. He is looking up at Farmer Hoggett and is clearly not of equal position. Farmer Hoggett is backlit and looking down on Babe, demonstrative of a higher power. Farmer Hoggett looking down on Babe from a position of power Similarly to other children’s films like Charlotte’s Web (2006), it is a gimmick that saves the animal, not his animalness. However, Babe (1995) still questions and challenges our human perceptions of animals and their uses. It forces the viewer to consider where their food comes from. In addition, the film exposes the idea that humans can empathise with animals outside of the ‘pet’ sphere and thus makes the audience question their own feelings towards eating animals for meat. Works Cited: Babe. (1995). [DVD] Directed by C. Noonan. Universal Pictures. Charlotte’s Web. (2006). [DVD] Directed by G. Winick. Harper & Brothers. Hole, A. (2003). Performing identity: Dawn French and the funny fat female body. Feminist Media Studies, 3(3), pp.315-328. McHugh, S. (2002). Bringing up babe. Camera Obscura, 17(1 49), pp.149-187. Stewart, K. and Cole, M. (2009). The Conceptual Separation of Food and Animals in Childhood. Food, Culture & Society, 12(4), pp.457-476.

Bliss and Righteousness: A Match Made in the Kitchen - Spiritual Fulfillment in Babette’s Feast (1987) by Brady Gilliam The French refugee Babette, secretly the once-great chef of the Parisian Café Anglais, works as a maid for unmarried sisters Martine and Phillipa in their remote Danish village during the later nineteenth century. The austere sisters are daughters of the late founder of a tiny Lutheran sect and have taken on his role in leading their puritanical community, which, much to their dismay, has begun to disintegrate as a result of feuds between its members. When Babette wins ten thousand francs in the lottery and requests to cook a “real French dinner” for the congregation in celebration of the one-hundredth anniversary of its founder’s birth, Martine and Philippa agree, assuming that Babette will afterwards return to France as a wealthy woman. However, as a stream of exotic and luxurious food begins to arrive from France, the sisters and their flock are filled with consternation for the coming feast, fearing it will be a wickedly pleasurable “witches’ Sabbath” that will the strict asceticism to which they subscribe. Strangely, the meal, though decadent in the extreme, does just the opposite: it kindles a religious revival for the community and brings them closer to one another and to God. Through his portrayal of the joy and reconciliation brought to the previously sullen Lutheran community by Babette’s sumptuous feast, writer-director Gabriel Axel argues that the most genuine spiritual fulfillment comes not from sensory deprivation and restraint, but from an appreciation of the material world as God’s own work of art. Pre-feast, the little congregation has nearly reached its breaking point. The members have grown old and resentful of one other, held together only by Martine and Philippa’s waning tenacity. Their gatherings are entirely devoid of sincere religious passion: the sacred peace is constantly marred by accusations and sharp-tongued retorts, any semblance of joy erased by a dour conviction about the evils of pleasure. In fact, when the feast begins, the guests have taken a vow of silence in the hopes of preserving their virtue against the temptation of Babette’s French cuisine; they will say nothing of the food, rejecting all sensual enjoyment and speaking only praises to God. However, as the unbelievably delicious food and drink loosen their resolve, the guests find themselves unable to resist its allure. Their eyes close in relish and surrender, their mouths form nervous smiles, and past disputes are slowly forgiven as the guests relax into a fellowship lubricated by fine wine. Ironically, when they abandon their religious self-discipline, the sectarians arrive at the most powerful religious experience they have encountered since the death of their beloved pastor. The feast becomes a celebration of gratitude for the bounty given by God, and for friendship, during a fleeting but beautiful life on His earth. They recount stories of their founder’s good works, sing hymns, and discuss the life that awaits them beyond the grave. During the climactic feast scene, Babette steps fully into her symbolic role as the film’s Christ figure, divine giver of both life and absolution through a sacrifice represented with food. The camera focuses on her expert hands as she lovingly prepares each dish; her art represents, indeed is, the work of God’s own hands. Thus, in appreciating Babette’s feast, the twelve guests (like the twelve disciples at the Last Supper) do not offend God, but please him. Furthermore, the salvation they gain from the feast is bought at a great price. She relinquishes every bit of the ten thousand francs she has won in the lottery, and with it the chance at any future other than one of servitude, for the opportunity to fulfill her most vital purpose. She alone – the servant – has the power to bring renewal to the sectarian community through the sacrifice of her own future. In this way, the Catholic Babette embodies the unconditional grace of Luther’s Protestant Christ, demonstrating her burgeoning connection with the Danes’ culture and religion. The purifying power of Babette’s feast evokes the Christian ritual of communion: the guests eat and drink of her sacrifice, and through consumption reaffirm their community ties, ultimately achieving redemption and a deep spiritual fulfillment. As General Loewenhielm so poignantly proclaims, “That which we have chosen is given to us, and that which we have refused is also granted us… Righteousness and bliss shall kiss one another.” The feast may be decadently toothsome, but the harmony it brings elevates the guests’ humanity and reaffirms their religious ties. Works Cited Babette’s Feast. Dir. Gabriel Axel. Perf. Stéphane Audran, Bodil Kjer, and Birgitte Federspie. Orion Classics, 1987. iTunes. Web. 5 February 2015.

How to Eat When You’re Expecting by Sofia Soto Sugar Director Michael McCullers uses a star-studded cast to turn Baby Mama (2008) into a social commentary on nutrition, class, pregnancy and motherhood, neatly disguised as a comedic film. Kate (Tina Fey) is a 40-something successful business woman who is ‘married to her career’ but ready to have a baby. After trying everything imaginable, she seeks the help of a surrogate named Angie (Amy Poehler) to carry a baby for her. After Angie and her careless husband Carl (Dax Shepard), split up, Angie spends the majority of the pregnancy living with, and befriending, Kate. Their relationship becomes quickly consumed with Angie’s lifestyle. Kate, as the vice president of Round Earth Foods (a health-food grocery store), brings home plenty of healthy food for Angie to start eating, to which Angie responds “that crap is for rich people who hate themselves.” Her resistance to all of Kate’s suggestions is exhibited Figures 2-4, where Angie is seen stubbornly refusing pea soup in an exaggerated, childish manner. Their relationship is evidence of the drastic effects that class can have on nutrition. Angie and CI’arl’s home is strewn with fast-food wrappers and trash, soda and beer, and features a fridge full of take-out leftovers. Meanwhile, Kate’s home is pristine and she only purchases wholesome and organic ingredients for herself. McCullers, by using different mise-en-scènes for the two homes, is able to show the class difference associated with their nutrition and the quality of the food that they can buy: Kate’s executive VP salary vs Angie and Carl’s makeshift jobs. In Figure 1, we can see what happens when Angie is left alone in Kate’s apartment, strewing candy wrappers and soda cans all over the place, and even sticking gum under the table. The film also plays into the societal expectations for pregnant women and mothers to maintain a strict food regiment for themselves and their baby. Deborah Lupton, in her “Food, the Family and Childhood” chapter, talks extensively about the societal pressure that pregnant women face and how this responsibility is so emphasized that the pregnant woman is no longer an individual but a “factory” with specific intake regulations “for the production of the fetus via food” (41). It’s clear that this expectation is only placed the pregnant woman, a time when she seems to lose her identity, but not the woman as a mother (in this surrogacy case, Kate), let alone a father. In Figure 1, you can see Kate standing over Angie in a dominant power pose, lecturing her about all the junk food that she’s been putting into her body at the start of the pregnancy. Meanwhile, in a bar scene, Kate indulges in a dangerous amount of alcohol while Angie avoids any. Similarly, Kate’s sister Caroline, whom is not pregnant but already a mother, is shown pouring a bunch of frozen foods out on a pan. Through some additional characters – particularly Kate’s eccentric boss, Barry (Steve Martin), and love interest, Rob (Greg Kinnear), a smoothie store owner competing with the “corporate juice pimps” at Jamba Juice – Baby Mama touches on satire about the green movement, “raw food vegan movement” style of food that is increasingly popular. While the characters each experience their own romantic and personal turbulence towards the end of the film, the film consumers can see how Baby Mama continues to use food as a medium for social commentary on nutrition, class, and womanhood. Works Cited Baby Mama. Dir. Michael McCullers. Perf. Tina Fey and Amy Poehler. Universal, 2008. Lupton, Deborah. Food, the body, and the self. London: Sage, 2012. Print.

Some Things There's No Moving On From by Davin Lee In the face of the Absurd, it was Camus’ belief that one should not seek truth, but find joy in the struggle. To know the world lacks meaning, and accept the responsibility of happiness as solely ours, we may then know happiness. But what happens when someone continues to fight that current? In Banshees of Inisherin (2022), Martin McDonagh explores the nature of kinship and brotherhood and the struggle of its coexistence with the absurd in the face of the Irish Civil War. To understand McDonagh’s intentions with the film, one must first comprehend the deep and painful divide between the people of Ireland after the Irish Civil War. During the early twentieth century, the Anglo-Irish Treaty was signed as a result of the Irish War of Independence. It would grant Ireland some autonomy from the United Kingdom, but acknowledged Ireland as a part of the British Empire. Despite independence in all but name, Nationalists of the Irish Republican Army objected to the treaty as it represented what indentured servitude was to slavery: a thin veil with which to hide complete control. Some however, supported the creation of a Free State of Ireland, seeing it as a pragmatic step towards better lives for the working class. Starkly different definitions of freedom lead to internal strife that lingers to this day. Colm and Paidric are the personifications of the growing Irish Republican Army and Free State during the time the film is set. McDonagh uses the feast as the manifestation of the strain between Ireland’s countrymen, setting the town pub as the communal epicenter in the film. Despite being life long friends, Colm asks Paidric to never speak to him again, citing his dullness and lack of refinement as the main reasons for this sudden change. Colm tells Paidric that they are getting older and that Colm should start focusing on more important matters, like writing fiddle tunes and teaching them to younger players before he dies. For every effort Paidric makes to talk to Colm, he says he will cut off a finger from his “fiddle playing hand." In a particular scene we see Paidric having dinner with his sister, in which his beloved donkey Jenny keeps disrupting the meal. The scene is played in a comical tone, but it is meant to represent the connection between feasting and our relationships with the things we care for. Despite being a farmer that should treat animals as food or tools, he speaks to them as if they were his children and even is known to have them in his home, much to his sister’s chagrin. A humble stew is served, and at the table are only Paidric and Siobhan followed by a few farm animals wandering the dining room. These are the things that give Paidric warmth, one that was once shared between Colm and him. This scene is also meant to show Paidric as the human embodiment of the working class of Ireland during the civil war. Paidric has the humility to eat and share among those whom we usually deem as lesser, such as animals. There is no pretense to the meal that Paidric and Siobhan share, and Paidric shows no sense of entitlement above the animals he tends to. The tone and context of the feast here indicates a strong bond between those in attendance. On the other hand Colm has a yearning desire for legacy that drives him to feel a sense of superiority over those who just wish to live in peace. An aspiring fiddle player, Colm wishes to write his opus before he dies. He often tells Paidric that he no longer has the time for Paidric’s dullness, as he must surround himself with intellect to meet his aspirations. We see the growing divide between Paidric and Colm within their interactions at the town pub, where all the folk gather and gab about their lives and the affairs of the island. The pub, representative of the archetypal feast, is a common place for ideas and celebration among people of all classes and sects. However, as Colm makes his separation from Paidric clear, we see a shift in tone within the once lively gathering place. We see other intellectuals gather and play fiddle tunes with Colm, all enamored by his romantic nature while Paidric watches from a distance, isolated from the circle Colm has formed. Colm is the embodiment of the bourgeois idealism that grew among the upper class of Ireland following the Anglo-Irish Treaty. Colm has a desire for meaning that stems from a greater sense of value within himself than others of a less artistic nature. It is also important to note, even when Colm is present at a feast or celebration, we never see him eat. We very much see Colm from Paidric’s perspective, as the intimate details of his life, such as who he would share a meal with, are never shown. This adds to the symbolic nature of the character, showing the disconnect between the working and upper classes. The aforementioned town pub evolves as a living breathing feast. While initially lively and full of chatter, as Colm continues to distance himself from Paidric, more and more people form divisions and cliques within the once equally shared space. McDonagh sees the feast as an act of trust. In a scene halfway through the film, we see Paidric confront Colm in the pub as Colm is sharing conversation with the town policeman Peadar. Earlier that day Paidric had had a scuffle with Peadar after slandering him in the street, but they show no animosity to each other within the pub as both understand their quarrels do not belong there. Once libations are shared, it is as if there is a social contract that binds people there to trust in each other to remain civil. This is only broken once in the film by Paidric when he attempts to gain Colm’s attention, signifying the level of distrust between them at this point in the film. Colm and Paidric’s relationship reaches the point of no return when Colm throws one of his severed fingers, cut as a result of Paidric’s constant efforts to speak to him, at Paidric’s door. Unbeknownst to Colm, Jenny the donkey chokes and dies while trying to eat the finger. This is the final act of sacrilege; whatever rancor there was between Colm and Paidric had been kept between them thus far. The symbolic feast between the townsfolk had been relatively untainted, with their unity only beginning to show minor signs of splitting. Now, with Jenny dead, a being Paidric saw with deep compassion had become a casualty of the feud between the two men. The feast, though not religious in this context, is sacred to the bonds of community. Whatever apostates may disregard the mutual trust shared in the act of drinking and dining together will not only face the consequences themselves, but will cause destruction to those around them. Not only did Colm and Paidric’s relationship sour with every attack between them, but so did the lives of others around them. McDonagh uses the feast to portray a fall from grace. He depicts the cold and ruthless crushing of a countryside naivete and simplicity through the development of increasingly grotesque imagery within food and narrative. What was a spat between friends led to friends being divided and appendages severed, with extreme measure after extreme measure being taken for something so superficial as dullness. Nonetheless, there is a familiar sadness in knowing that Colm and Paidric do care for one another on some level, but with everything said and done they must move their separate ways. Banshees of Inisherin. Dir. Martin McDonagh. Perf. Colin Farrell, Barry Keoghan, Brendan Gleeson, Kerry Condon. Searchlight Pictures, 2022. Streaming. Gleditsch, Kristian S. “Irish Civil War.” Encyclopædia Britannica, Encyclopædia Britannica, inc., 22 Aug. 2023, www.britannica.com/event/Irish-Civil-War.

Bao as a Symbol of Chinese Family Love by Yuejia Zhang The short film Bao (2018), directed by Domee Shi and produced by Pixar Animation Studios, portrays the essence of Chinese family love through the lens of an elder Chinese woman's relationship with a live streamed bun (baozi) that she nurtures as her own child. The woman’s second experience of motherhood is depicted as a dream. The lighting and color undergo a transformation after the little Bao comes to life, shifting from a cold tone to a warm one. Perhaps it is the interpersonal struggle of a Chinese immigrant mom in her relationship with her Chinese-Canadian son that gives rise to these dreams. It differs from her husband's nonchalant and carefree reaction when he eats the other buns. Seeing the Bao come alive, representing a baby, adds a spark to her otherwise bland and repetitive life as an empty-nest mother at home. The film’s middle part revolves around the growth of Bao from a boy into a rebellious young adult. This transformation can be seen in Bao’s reaction to the Chinese barbecue pork bun (Cha siu bao). As a young boy, Bao picks Cha siu bao from the bakery and happily eats it with his mother. However, as an adolescent, when his mother prevents him from playing soccer, because it is too dangerous, he rejects the Cha siu baoshe offers. The mother is being over-protective of him. He wants the freedom to play and encounter risks rather than staying intact and forever protected by the mother. The climax of the film occurs when the mother can no longer bear Bao leaving home with a blonde girl and completely loses control of herself. With the blonde girl signifying the Canadian culture, Bao’s action implies his choice to blend in with the western culture instead of the Chinese. With complex feelings of loss and powerlessness, the mother shockingly eats Bao. The act of eating Bao breaks the mother’s dream and leaves her with the bitter reality that her real son has left her. It shows the disastrous consequence of her desperation to keep Bao to herself. This scene represents a culturally significant clash between the smothering mother and the independent child. Traditional Chinese parents center around their children, giving them the best while having to stay in control of every bit and piece of their lives. When this parenthood collides with the more independent, free-spirited western life philosophy, neither the mother nor the child finds solace. Upon waking from the dream, the real son returns and offers Cha siu bao to the mother as the return of his love. When they eat together, tears slide down their cheeks, symbolizing the resolution of the conflict. In real life, the mother didn’t consume the son: she let him go instead, and the son understood his mother’s love. Everything finally makes sense as they eat their Cha siu bao in silence. In Bao, food is a vehicle for implicitly expressing love, especially maternal love. It is subtle and unassuming, yet offering and sharing food reveals the intimate affection between mother and child. In addition, Food is also a vehicle for retaining cultural ties. As a critical element in cultural heritage, traditional foods connect individuals to their cultural roots and remind them of their cross-cultural identity. Bao. Dir. Domee Shi. Pixar Animation Studios, 2018.

Feasting Abroad by Ethan Leonard Barcelona (1994) is the second installment in a trilogy of films directed by Whit Stillman, located between Metropolitan and The Last Days of Disco. The film is set in its titular city during “the last decade of the Cold War” (00:01:29) and depicts the efforts by two cousins, the nebbish and nervous Ted Boynton (Taylor Nichols) and the devilishly acerbic Fred (Chris Eigeman), to navigate the romantic and political complexities of life abroad. As with its cinematic brethren, Barcelona is not carried with any urgency by any particular plot movement. Fred, a salesman for the fictional Imsoco Corporation feels a sense of constant jeopardy regarding his job, while Fred, a junior lieutenant for the United States Navy’s Sixth Fleet is perpetually dealing with the climate of anti-Americanism in Barcelona, culminating in a near lethal encounter that takes his eye. While these may appear to be matters of severe urgency, the film instead relegates them to the background to focus on the sense of ennui and uncertainty felt by the cousins as they drift across an endless landscape of bars, restaurants, and nightclubs. What Barcelona does spectacularly well is induce one to consider the spaces of feasting. Much like the Upper West Side apartments of Metropolitan and the discotheques of The Last Days of Disco, the nightclubs and bars act for the film’s protagonists as archipelagos of stability amidst the dislocation of living abroad. The conversations in the film nearly always occur during moments of movement, in cars or on strolls, while the characters pace back and forth or get out of bed after sex. Spaces of feasting are the exception to this; the common experience of dining is capable of producing a type of sociality beyond time and space. These moments of stillness and timelessness reflect a central theme throughout Stillman’s trilogy: a tragic fatalism in the form of the characters. It is not for no reason that Stillman refers to Metropolitan, Barcelona, and The Last Days of Disco as the Doomed-Bourgeois-in-Love Series. All three films, although it's a feature more pronounced in the first and final installments, deal with people romantically marrying themselves to vanishing worlds, be it New York’s debutante society or the Studio 51 scene. In Barcelona both Fred and Ted identify themselves with declining or retreating institutions, with Ted dedicating himself completely to the moribund trade of salesmanship and Fred being a dedicated soldier in the Cold War. The procession through bars and nightclubs that comprise much of the film acts to anesthetize our characters against the changes occurring around them, a theme which comes across through the architecture of the restaurants themselves, often being windowless or populated by patrons wearing costumes from the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Century. These spaces of feasting are enclosed from the gnawing anxieties that cut up against Fred and Ted in the outside world: they are points of a seductively therapeutic distraction that allow them to forget their own doom. The stasis represented by sitting and eating, or more often drinking in the case of the film, allows for one to step outside the movement of time. Barcelona is, in this regard, very much a film in the vein of the works such as Vladimir Nabokov’s autobiographical Speak, Memory or Christopher Isherwood’s Berlin Stories, something that places a character at a particular historical moment to which they remain insular. For Barcelona, it is the spaces of eating and drinking that acts as a barrier to the anxiety of change, allowing for Fred and Ted to engage in witty dialogues on trivial matters as the world around them moves on. Barcelona. Dir. Whit Stillman. Castle Rock Entertainment, 1994.

Trauma on the Table: Exploring Carmey's Culinary Expression in The Bear by Laura Tinkler The Bear is a comedy-drama series centering on a young chef, Carmen ‘Carmey’ Berzatto, an acclaimed chef in the fine-dining world, coming back home to Chicago to run his family’s sandwich shop following the death of his older brother, Mikey. Season 2 centers on Carmey’s quest to rebuild the shop into a fine dining establishment and follows Carmey through the process of building a menu, drawing on his life growing up in Chicago. Season 2 Episode 6 "Fishes" is set five years prior to the events of the show 'The Bear.' It features a flashback to a particularly memorable, hectic Christmas dinner with the Berzattofamily. In the episode, Donna, the Berzatto matriarch, prepares The Feast of the Seven Fishes, an Italian American Christmas Eve celebration featuring fish and other seafood dishes. The episode is fast-paced and anxiety-inducing. In the kitchen, where Donna is preparing the feast, the camera is fast, shaky, and constantly moving. At least three sauce-stained kitchen timers blare suddenly at unknown intervals. The sounds of clattering dishes and voices yelling are cacophonous. The dishes are overwhelming. The gravy is red, bubbling, and nearly overflowing in the pot, appearing almost like lava. This combined makes the kitchen a claustrophobic and hellish atmosphere, adding to the anxiety and building tension within the family. Carmey, the show’s main protagonist, and Donna both use food as an escape. Donna uses the excuse of cooking to avoid confrontation related to her mental illness or drinking problem, demonstrated by her repeated avoidance and agitation towards those asking if she is ‘okay’. Carmey uses food to dissociate, choosing to hyper-fixate in order to disconnect from his chaotic surroundings. Tensions rise between the family members, and a brawl breaks out over the dinner table afterMikey throws a fork at Lee. This chaos is abruptly halted when Donna, in a manic haze, drives a car through the dining room. In the episode's final shot, Carmey stares blankly at a perfect plate of cannolis, now ruined by the forenamed fork. In this moment, the cannoli holds paradoxical meanings for Carmey. On one hand, the cannoli represents his childhood and family traumas. A symbol of the Italian-American family, now imbued with the trauma associated with these family gatherings. On the other hand, the cannoli represents Carmey's love of cooking, an activity closely tied to his trauma yet also functioning as his escape and self-expression. This provides further context to Carmey's choice to add a cannoli to his restaurant menu, a material representation of Carmey addressing and working through his traumas. "Fishes." The Bear, season 2, episode 6. Dir. Christopher Storer. Writ. Joanna Calo and Christopher Storer. Perf. Jeremy Allen White, Ebon Moss-Bachrach, and Ayo Edebiri. FXP. 2022. Streaming.

Hushpuppy’s Progression to Self-Reliance in Beasts of the Southern Wild by Willow Barefoot In Beasts of the Southern Wild, a little girl named Hushpuppy (Quvenzhané Wallis) faces both the physical destruction of her community by a hurricane and the physical deterioration of her father from a fatal illness and triumphs as an independent adolescent. Because food is an integral part of Hushpuppy’s bayou culture, it is used throughout the film to emphasize her progression from a naïve little girl into a wise young woman. As Hushpuppy matures and gains a new perspective on her role as a “little piece of a big big universe,” her relationship with food matures simultaneously. Ultimately, Hushpuppy uses food to prove to her dying father that she is capable of providing sustenance for herself and living without him. In the beginning of the film, Hushpuppy’s relationship with food is mediated through her father, Wink (Dwight Henry). The first shot of Wink shows him tossing a whole chicken on the grill for “feed up time.” He is thereby established as the one person Hushpuppy depends on for survival. He alone is the ultimate provider of sustenance for Hushpuppy, whose mother is absent. By taking on the role of provider, Wink inadvertently nurtures and coddles his daughter by encouraging her dependence on him. However, in all other aspects of his relationship with Hushpuppy, he tries his best not to nurture her dependence. He is physically and verbally harsh with her because he wants her to be like him—independent and resilient. Hushpuppy’s reliance on Wink for food prevents her from becoming the tough, independent daughter he so desperately wants. For example, proof of Hushpuppy’s inability to fend for herself arises when Wink disappears for a few days due to a medical emergency. After Hushpuppy realizes that she will need to find food on her own because her father has disappeared, she mixes some grotesque canned ingredients (including cat food) into a large pot, which she lights on fire with a blowtorch. She then hears her father outside and runs outside to greet him—forgetting that she has left the stove on. In response to learning that her father does not want to see her, Hushpuppy angrily runs back to her kitchen, where the pot of cat food is billowing smoke. Instead of turning the stove’s burners off, she cranks them up, causing an explosive grease fire. She stays in the burning trailer, choosing to hide under a flammable cardboard box and wait for her father to come save her. In this scene, Hushpuppy does not only fail at providing sustenance for herself through cooking, she fails at protecting her own life from danger. Moreover, she purposely fails. All she wants is for her father to attend to her needs and nurture her lovingly—just how she imagines her mother would. By staying in the trailer, she is testing whether or not Wink truly loves her. Hushpuppy is not ready to become independent; she wants to remain reliant on her father. In response to this incident, Wink—knowing that his death is near—realizes that his daughter will not be prepared to take care of herself after he dies. He begins fervently to teach her how to survive off the land of the bayou. He shows her how to grab a catfish from the swamp and kill it with bare hands; however, Hushpuppy is unable to do it. Shortly after, he shows her how to eat a crab without utensils. He calls this method of eating “beasting it.” Hushpuppy initially struggles to beast it, but then succeeds triumphantly. She slowly learns how to feed herself. She also slowly realizes her father is dying. Consequently, her relationship with food changes from one in which she prefers to rely only on her father for her nutrition to one in which she enjoys working alongside him for sustenance. Unfortunately, as Wink’s health quickly deteriorates, he is unable to continue teaching her how to survive off the land. Hushpuppy, refusing to accept that her father is dying, goes to find her mother for help. With her gang of girls, she swims out to sea, and is picked up by a friendly tugboat captain who drops her off on a floating brothel barge. There, Hushpuppy finds a female cook who, based on the stories told by Hushpuppy’s father, is assumed to be her mother. The graceful cook makes Hushpuppy some fried alligator meat, which is the same food Hushpuppy’s mother fed her father before she was conceived. She tells Hushpuppy that she is going to have to learn how to live on her own someday and then proceeds to dance with Hushpuppy in her arms. Hushpuppy, impressed by the woman’s cooking and coddling nature, asks the cook if she will come take care of her and her daddy. The woman tells Hushpuppy no because she can only take care of herself, but also whispers to Hushpuppy that she can stay if she wants to. Faced with everything she thought she wanted—someone to nurture and feed her—Hushpuppy declines the cook’s invitation to stay. Instead of taking the easy way out, Hushpuppy chooses to trudge the harder path, the path of self-reliance. She realizes that her father needs her, that she is ready to face his death, and that she will be able to take care of herself. Hushpuppy therefore returns home with extra alligator meat in tow, and sits on her father’s deathbed. The food that was originally fed to Wink by Hushpuppy’s mother is now handfed to him by Hushpuppy herself. Life has come full circle. Wink’s relationship with food is now mediated through his daughter, just as her relationship with food had been mediated through him. Understanding that his job is done—that his daughter can survive without him—Wink slowly chews his last supper while Hushpuppy lays on his chest, and passes onto the next life. Through skills gained while seeking food, Hushpuppy has finally become tough and resilient. She is no longer the one being provided for. Nor is she just providing for herself. She has exceeded her father’s expectations; she has become a provider for others. Beasts of the Southern Wild. Dir. Benh Zeitlin. Perf. Quvenzhané Wallis, Dwight Henry. 20th Century Fox Film Corp, 2012. DVD

Evolution of Food in Film by Idhant Khosla The film I selected for analysis is "The Benchwarmers," directed by Dennis Dugan. This comedy follows three nerdy adults, Richie, Clark, and Gus who decide to take on rude little league baseball teams in support of bullied children who are never allowed to play. While food doesn't play a crucial role in the movie, it is woven into the story through multiple references, applied significance to a restaurant, and a fascinating incorporation of technology in food preparation. Throughout the film, we see Clark refer to many unusual and childlike food choices, such as egg salad and macaroni and cheese. These quirky food preferences highlight Clark's strange personality, showing how dietary choices can be used to symbolize character traits in cinema. The primary restaurant featured in the movie is Pizza Hut, and it is used as a full circle ending. In the film's opening scenes, Pizza Hut serves as the team's go-to spot after their initial win and is where Richie meets his “crush” Sarah. At the movie's conclusion, the team returns, this time with a crowd of excited children and supporters. Additionally, it is here that Richie kisses Sarah, underlining the connection between food, joy and romance, a theme that resonates both in real life and film. Lastly, "The Benchwarmers" introduces a unique element of technology in the culinary world, showcasing a robot named Number 7. Number 7 has the ability to instantly create any sandwich desired. He even finishes Richie's sandwich before he can express his preferences verbally! While this is far-fetched, it shows the evolving relationship between technology and food preparation. In conclusion, "The Benchwarmers" is an inspiring comedy that I thoroughly enjoyed watching and analyzing the small, yet unique role of food in the movie. The Benchwarmers. Dir. Dennis Dugan. Revolution Studios, 2006.

The Altruism of the Snozzcumber by Jordi Gaton What’s more horrifying than meeting a 24-foot Giant, who steals you away to Giant country? Figuring out whether or not you are on the menu. In this Steven Spielberg adaptation of the beloved children’s book The Big Friendly Giant or BFG for short, dietary habits function as a means to define the humanity and kindness of the BFG. When Sophie first meets the BFG, she chatters nervously awaiting the same end that many of Odysseus’s men faced within the cave of the Cyclops. However, as she looks on at the BFG preparing dinner (Figure 1), she quickly learns than the BFG, as rough and scary as he may look, is in fact kind, gentle, articulate, and most importantly— vegetarian. The other giants of Giant Country: Fleshlumpeater, Bloodbottler, and their brothers are all savage meat eaters, who feast on meat, constantly craving the flesh of men. Because of this fundamental dietary difference, the larger, carnivorous giants bully and chastise him for the kindness that he shows to living animals. In spite of this abuse, BFG overcomes because he possesses a degree of humanity that the other giants have lost in their savage diet. His love for humans, their dreams, and the kind escape they bring him from his hostile home give him the strength to eat the most vile and disgusting vegetable within Giant country— the snozzcumber (Figure 1). While not quite entirely a cucumber, but entirely too close to a witch’s warty schnoz, the snozzcumber is a particularly horrible monstrosity of a vegetable that both appears and smells violent to the senses. Throughout the kitchen scene, Sophie reacts horribly to the smell and fibrous, snotty mess that is this horrible vegetable (Figure 1), questioning how even could the BFG stand to eat this horrible food day after day in the unholy amalgam seen in Figure 2. However, as horrible as the food may seem, the snozzcumber and his vegetarian lifestyle are essential for building the contrast between both he and his other giant brethren. In his abstinence from meat in all forms, both Sophie and the audience can better appreciate the humble humanity of the BFG, seeing him as more of the father figure or protector rather than horrible 24-foot monster. In this way, Steven Spielberg humanizes the image of the monster, encouraging the audience to look past his horrific appearance and grow to love the whimsical, kind soul alongside Sophie. Another vital scene that showcases the link between the snozzcumber and the BFG is the moment when Fleshlumpeater runs into the cave shortly after Sophie meets the BFG. As Fleshlumpeater barges into the cave, he smells around for humans, catching Sophie’s alluring scent. BFG a runt at 24-feet, is dwarfed by his brother and wholly powerless to stop him. Therefore, the BFG resorts to distracting his brother, so that Sophie can hide. She finds refuge in none other than inside the snozzcumber that was recently cut in Figure 1. In this scene, the snozzcumber protects Sophie from Fleshlumpeater by masking her scene and valiantly protecting her with its own body, just as BFG does in his final fight with Fleshlumpeater much later in the film. This scene solidifies the link between BFG’s vegetarianism and his dedication to protect humanity by mirroring the later role given to him by the Queen of England to save humanity. The altruistic sacrifice of the snozzcumber also represents elements the BFG’s selfless passion for safeguarding the dreams of the innocent children of London. These acts of silent kindness earn the BFG nothing but the satisfaction of knowing that he, despite his monstrous self, can pass on good to the world that showed him immense kindness through Sophie. The BFG’s diet therefore plays a vital role in defining his altruistic self and works as a recurring visual symbol of his love and humanity. The final visual homage to the snozzcumber comes at the end of the film after the giants have been exiled to a secluded island. In these final visual sequences, Sophie tells the tale of the BFG’s new garden filled with many fruits and vegetables from the human world, remarking that he no longer needed to suffer with the horrible snozzcumber soup in Figure 2. Instead, in Figure 3, we see a much-improved soup that reflects the long overdue reciprocity from humanity for the BFG’s years of sacrifice and protection. These visual close ups that juxtapose the stew bowls represent how reciprocity and kindness have changed him as a character for the better. No longer relegated to the shadows and facing down the unending torment of his brothers, the BFG finally feels accepted and free to further foster his connection to humanity through both his reading and writing. In the Big Friendly Giant, vegetarianism is a humanizing force that helps to demonstrate the kindness and altruistic character of the BFG. Through the use of the snozzcumber as a visual motif for sacrifice, Steven Spielberg further demonstrates how the BFG embodies these values and develops throughout the entire film. The food that BFG eats defines the kindness that he wishes to project to the world in his guardianship of the children and their dreams. Vegetables and the snozzcumber allowed the BFG to realize the power that lies within both kindness and selfless acts. Works Cited Big Friendly Giant. Dir. Steven Spielberg. Perf. Mark Rylance. The BFG. July 1, 2016 Walt Disney Studios Motion Pictures.

One Big Night: The Subjectivity of Art by Christian Villacres “To eat good food is to be close to God” (Primo) Stanley Tucci’s 1996 film, Big Night, gives an account of two brothers who emigrate from Italy to the United States in pursuit of the classic American dream. The brothers, Primo and Secondo, plan to fulfill their dreams by starting their own restaurant, that they denominate Paradise. Primo is a gastronomical genius who is eminently proud of his national cuisine and works as the restaurant’s primary chef. Meanwhile, the younger brother, Secondo, serves as the charismatic manager of the restaurant and is filled with a blistering passion for finding success in the fabled green pastures America has to offer. Together, the two brothers would seem to form an indomitable duo. Despite their potent combination, however, Paradise ultimately fails, signaling a likely end to their pursuit of the American dream. The failure of the restaurant can be most directly attributed to Primo’s style of cooking. Despite Primo being acknowledged as a world class chef several times throughout the film, his refusal to change his dishes to better suit the taste of his American patrons results in the restaurant’s ultimate demise. Primo’s extreme pride was his ultimate undoing. The flagrant criticism of Primo’s cooking is an example of just how impactful the subjective stance of a restaurant’s customers can be, regardless of the true quality of the food prepared. Cooking is a form of art because just like art, cooking allows an artist to express their creative skill and imagination. Also like art, cooking can be interpreted, admired, and criticized in countless ways. Similarly to how every individual art critic may have a personal interpretation of a famous masterpiece, every individual person may have built their own understanding of a chef’s dish. This difference in opinion represents a delicate intermingling between the creator’s identity and that of the observer, or in the case of Big Night, the diner. The main difference is that in the case of a restaurant, the customer’s interpretation of the food must be held in higher regard in order to garner financial success. As stated by Pascal: “Give people what they want, then later you can give them what you want.” While Pascal may be issuing sound advice to Secondo when he speaks these words, he knows that Primo would never be willing to succumb to the will of those that criticize his culinary creations. Primo exhibits moxie when he neglects to change his cooking in exchange for success and goes as far as to say that Pascal should be placed in jail for ‘raping’ the cuisine he considers sacred. The film, as a whole, supports the idea that beauty should be kept in the eye of the beholder, however it does not try to hide the fact that when it comes to art in commerce, the world can be a cold place. Every true artist has their own grand masterpiece. For Leonardo da Vinci many consider his portrait of Mona Lisa or perhaps his depiction of The Last Supper to be his greatest work. Amongst all subjective interpretations, a common consensus forms around these kinds of works that marks them as timeless pieces. Primo’s Mona Lisa exists in nothing less than the secret recipe he and his brother brought with them from their home town of Abruzzo: Timpano. The unveiling of this traditional dish and the captured reaction of those that behold and consume it solidifies Primo’s place as a masterful chef. This event parallels a baptism; however, this instance is poignant in nature as it also marks the brothers’ final and failed attempt at finding success in the land of great opportunity. Throughout the course of the film, subtle cues in cinematography and sound add depth to the film. Overall, the camera work was rather simple, which actually lends a sense of reality to the film. The sound used throughout the film followed suit, as the sound was almost exclusively diegetic, which also added to the humanity of the film. Primo’s encounter with the car salesman and the dinner were two scenes that did use non-diegetic sound. There were a few instances in which more active cinematography was used to convey emotion in the film. For example, a dolly camera was used to create a tracking shot in several scenes that needed to feel more chaotic or busy. These kinds of shots serve a role in pulling the film’s viewer into the action of the scene at hand. In the scene depicted in the still, the camera is recording from the perspective of the Timpano, which signifies a grand unveiling, and also allows the viewer to understand the extreme tension of the moment through the reactions of the characters in the shot. The film offers the viewer an introduction into the world of modern transculturation and its consequences. Pride for one’s own creations is important. The ability to swallow one’s own pride is equally as important. Both of these themes are presented in Big Night as Secondo and Primo could not succeed in America without making a few compromises. This truth is made known to the two brothers by the ending scene of the film when they realize what is truly important. Whatever the medium may be, above all, great art must generate emotions of joy in all parties involved. In the words of Henry David Thoreau: “This world is but a canvas to our imagination.” Works Cited Tucci, Stanley, Campbell Scott, Jonathan Filley, Minnie Driver, Ian Holm, and Isabella Rossellini. Big Night. Culver City, CA: Columbia TriStar Home Entertainment, 2001.

The Relationship Between Consumption and Obsession by Emma Moon Throughout the film Black Swan, Darren Aronofsky intentionally limits scenes highlighting consumption. In fact, there are only two scenes where the main character, Nina, is seen eating. Within the first few minutes of the movie, Nina is eating her breakfast which consists of only one grapefruit. Rather than a comment being made about the nutrition of the food or how quaint the meal is, both Nina and her mother, Erica, comment on the grapefruit's appearance. To the mother and daughter pair, the grapefruit is pretty and that is the only thing of note. The second scene showcasing something being consumed appears a little later in the movie. After being given the starring role in the ballet, Erica surprises Nina with a cake upon her return home. While both are pleased with the opportunity Nina has been given, tension begins to arise when Nina refuses to eat the cake. The slice is simply too big for Nina who refuses to eat anything that might negatively contribute to her performance in the ballet company and her appearance. Although both Erica and Nina fight over this interaction, Nina finally relents and takes a small bite of the cake. The scene ends before viewers can see whether she eats a whole slice or not. By looking at these two scenes, Black Swan obviously takes the position of an anti-feast. The film begs the question: At what point does obsession, which leads to perfection, become fatal? Throughout Black Swan, Aronofsky works to understand how food directly contributes to obsession and perfection when basic human needs are neglected. Nina’s denial of basic human needs contributes to the magnitude of the question of fatality. This becomes even clearer when viewers are introduced to instances where Nina is physically making herself sick to maintain her physique. Throughout the film, there are multiple scenes where Nina can be seen in the bathroom stall as shown in the film still. Gagging noises begin and a toilet flush ends the scene. Later, viewers are taken into the stall where she can be seen purposely making herself gag with two fingers in her mouth. This behavior contributes to her obsession while further deteriorating her already sputtering mental state. As opening night gets closer, Nina continues to not eat, she appears to be at the lowest weight she has ever been, and her mental health is at an all-time low. But despite this, she delivers the perfect performance as the dual black and white swan. With a perfect performance as the product, Aronofsky asks whether this obsession is necessary to be perfect and, if so, if it is worth it. Black Swan. Dir. Darren Aronofsky. Fox Searchlight Pictures, 2012.

Exploring the Relationship Between Monster and Morality by Emma Moon In the film Bones and All, Luca Guadagino explores the relationship between animalistic hunger and the desire to retain humanity and morality by focusing on two young cannibals. While Guadagino increases the violence and hunger as the film steadily progresses, he often pairs these scenes with intimate conversations about longing for normalcy and defining what is “good.” For instance, after Lee describes his father’s death and his first “feed” in gory detail, Lee and Mareen agree to become normal. Lee says, “You want to be people? Let’s be people.” Mareen similarly struggles throughout the majority of the film as well. After helping to murder and eat a carnival worker, Mareen says, “We should feel something.” In an effort to show the distinction between animal and human, Guadagino creates startling contrasts between the visuals (extreme violence, feeding, etc.) and dialogue (falling in love, trying to be good, etc.) that often mirrors the difference between animal and human. For example, in the movie still, Lee can be seen violently hitting someone with a golf club. To add to the image, blood is splattering on a clearly angry and relentless Lee. Although the characters have done equally violent things in real life, this specific image is a product of an anxiety-ridden dream that Mareen experiences because of her actions throughout the film. Not only does she feel guilty which shows her morality, but she also awakes to a clearly concerned and in-love Lee. These distinctions are present from the beginning to the end. Guadagino also creates distinctions through the other characters that are introduced. Throughout the movie, Mareen and Lee frequently encounter other feeders like Sully, Jake, and Brad. While Mareen and Lee consistently struggle with their eating habits, Guadagino creates a moral spectrum related to how one eats. Essentially, there is a moral hierarchy between being a cannibal and a murderer based on the level of consciousness that the “feeder” has. For example, Lee is obviously disgusted by Sully’s habit of keeping his victim’s hair and by how Jake eats humans bones and all. Although Mareen and Lee both have moments of pure animalistic behavior (murdering for food, eating on all fours, etc.), they consistently feel guilt and long to be seen as moral. In his last moments, Lee repeatedly asks Mareen if he is good. Although he later asks her to feed on him while he dies, Lee’s concern is his morality as his end approaches. Even though Mareen and Lee are never able to fully rid themselves of the urge to feed, they never succumb completely to their deepest urges. As his movie closes, Guadagino begs the viewer to question whether this concern but inability to rid themselves of hunger is enough. Bones and All. Dir. Luca Guadagino. Metro Goldwyn Mayor Inc., 2022.