How Food Can Become a New Beginning by Abby Kliensorge In A Man Called Otto (2023), we follow the tear-jerking story about a man who recently lost the love of his life. Otto could be described as a grumpy, reclusive, and no-nonsense older man. With the loss of his only love (Sonya), a well-loved woman who is stated to be a wonderful cook, Otto is determined to join her in the afterlife as he doesn’t know how to go on without her. Throughout the story we watch Otto’s many attempts to end his life, but we also see Otto find reasons to live. Otto slowly shows his softer side by becoming friends with many people in his neighborhood but more specifically a new young family that moves into town. He begins to become a more prominent member of the neighborhood by helping others. His new neighbor Marisol slowly wriggles her way into his life, arguably beginning with her ethnic and delectable food. In the beginning of the movie, we see Otto meet his new neighbor Marisol who he is very annoyed with but ends up helping. To introduce herself and her husband (Tommy), Marisol brings Otto a dish called “pollo con mole,” or chicken with a savory chile and chocolate sauce, going into detail about her Hispanic heritage. Otto, seemingly upset with their having interrupted his suicide attempt, still indulges in conversation with his new neighbors and even goes as far as helping them yet again. Afterwards Otto goes inside and sits down to eat the dish provided by Marisol as seen in figure one. He enjoys it, if his continuous “Mmm’s” are anything to go by. This is the first meal given to Otto from Marisol, which I believe signifies his new beginning. After finishing the meal, he again tries to continue with his attempt, but thankfully fails. Yet, even though he still has attempts afterwards, Otto becomes more of a member of the community and fosters new relationships, that end up giving him more to live for. Later in the film Marisol and Tommy bring back a tool they borrowed from Otto along with a new food, Salvadoran cookies called “salporanz.” They again ask to borrow an item from Otto. In obliging them, he runs into another neighbor who needs his assistance, and Marisol convinces him to help the newcomer as well. Soon after, Otto has another attempt but not before he tries Marisol’s cookies as seen in figure two, which produces many more “Mmm’s.” Afterwards he is interrupted by Marisol, which saves him from his impending death. Even further into the film, Otto asks for more of the cookies she provided before. Throughout the film food is shown to reveal possibilities, in which represent a new beginning rather than the end he contemplates. Arguably, a parallel could be seen between Sonya having been a wonderful cook and his pleasure over Marisol’s food. While eating the cookies during one of his attempts, seen again in figure two, Otto reflects on his past with Sonya. While he seems to be stuck in his past the cookies are very much representative of his potential future. The darkness of the image could represent the anguish that Otto feels towards the past and even future, yet the cookies indicate that sliver of light and hope. Food could be viewed here as something that inadvertently gives Otto a beginning instead of an end. The food is the beginning of a beautiful friendship between Otto and Marisol’s family, which also ends up saving Otto from his nonstop attempts on his own life. Otto transforms from the grumpy and reclusive neighbor into someone who is well-loved and counted on by various people in his neighborhood, which begins from a simple meal provided by a new neighbor. A Man Called Otto. Dir. Marc Forster. Perf. Tom Hanks, Mariana Treviño, Rachel Keller, Manuel Garcia-Rulfo. Sony Pictures Releasing, 2023. Streaming.

Singing and Feasting Create a Community by Caroline Gwaltney Mamma Mia! (2008) is not a film known for its food, but a crucial scene includes feasting and invokes one of the central themes of a community coming together. The movie is built around Sophie and Sky's wedding and the preparation for it. People from the mainland and their families arrive, the island natives, Kalokairi, are preparing, and everyone is coming together for the girl who has grown up on the island her whole life. To spoil the ending, Sophie isn't the one who gets married. Instead, her mother, Donna, gets married to Sam after almost 20 years of being apart. After the wedding, they proceed to have a feast! A big thing in Mamma Mia! is all the songs and dances that they do, and they use a popular 80s band known as ABBA. So, they couldn't finish off the movie without not one but two more great ABBA songs. What sticks out most about this feast is a long table filling up the big courtyard in 'Villa Donna' (Figure 1). The large number of people gathering to celebrate fits a classic definition of a feast. The added 'Mamma Mia' characteristic of the feast is the singing. Before Sam grabs everyone's attention, the scene begins with everyone chatting and laughing. Then, Sam begins the song as a toast; he even hits the glass with a knife to call everyone's attention. They all transition into song and sing it together. The feast scene wraps up the movie with an epic feeling of coming together and suits Mamma Mia! and the theme well. A feature of food before the feast was on the ferry with Rosie and Tanya towards the beginning. They sit next to a woman who has a dish in their hand. Rosie asks to see the dish; she opens it and screams. It's a fish with the eyes staring right at her (Figure 2). Rosie was not used to a dish like this, which is surprising because she is a cook and had just published her first cookbook. There are so many different cultures in this world, and sometimes a dish will scare you. This unusual dish adds to the defined sense of culture in Mamma Mia! They are throwing a Greek wedding, so there are going to be certain dishes that some may not be used to. Donna was not originally from the island of Kalokairi, which makes sense because her best friends were also not accustomed to some dishes they were introduced to. Before the wedding, Donna sat in distress, spinning a plate on the table before the feast. It shows a part of feasting that we don't consider too often. Donna was likely concerned about Sophie, the wedding, and all the details. We tend to focus on the dynamic of the feast and not what it takes to get there. Once the wedding started and the partying began, Donna's apparent nerves seemed to disappear, and she enjoyed herself. But before, all she was concerned about was that Sophie would have the most perfect wedding. Donna even reacts to the groom and his boys goofing because she doesn't feel they take things seriously enough. Another part of a feast celebration that isn’t typically discussed is what happens afterward. There isn’t always something that does go on. In Mamma Mia! There was lots of dancing and jumping around together to “Take a Chance on Me,” and I went crazy. They were so crazy that the jumping cracked the courtyard more, and they discovered ‘Aphrodite’s fountain.’ Everyone coming together to sing and dance epitomizes a sense of community, family, and coming together as one. In conclusion, the feast may not have been the focal point of the celebration, but it was a vital part of showing what Mamma Mia! was all about. To tie all this together, these scenes in Mamma Mia! all show the culture and community expressed in the movie. Both Greek and Donna’s cultures (never told where she is originally from) come together as one in the film to celebrate a wedding that didn’t end up marrying the people they came for, and instead witnessing someone else’s marriage. People from the island of Kalokairi, people from Donna’s past, friends, and family all came together despite some differences and difficulties. The feast following shows how people adapted to this crazy turn of events and continued to celebrate the newly married couple. They are all happy to be there, feasting, celebrating, singing, and dancing. Mamma Mia!. Dir. Phyllida Lloyd. Universal Pictures, 2008.

Decadence as Distance by Sofia Soto Sugar Sofia Coppola’s 2016 production has given Marie Antoinette, an infamous historical figure, a modern, rocker-chic twist while still exposing her emotional and societal insecurities. Coppola, with the help of the talented actors like Kirsten Dunst (Marie Antoinette) and Jason Schwartzman (King Louis Auguste), is able to portray the isolation and distance, as well as the adaptation that Marie Antoinette experiences. This evolution of her character is only made possible by the incredibly ornate set and vast amounts of food which lend themselves to a mise-en-scène that is truly a feast for the eyes. Marie Antoinette, the daughter of Austria’s Empress Maria Theresa, was arranged to marry Louis Auguste, Dauphin (prince) of France and grandson of the King. During this transition, Marie Antoinette was instructed to leave everything behind and begin a completely new life as a wife, and Dauphine (princess), at the fragile age of 16. Her relationship with her husband, the royal court, and her role as Queen is paralleled almost entirely by the food portrayed, almost literally, surrounding her. When she first arrives, she is detached and uneasy and the camera follows her shaky and handheld as she is introduced to her new home, often panning around the room to show how vast the room is and how small she feels. Despite an abundance of food and people serving it, her mannerisms are stiff and her plate goes nearly untouched while Louis, cold and awkward, continues to eat as if nothing had changed. As shown in Figure 2, the environment of excess and wealth surrounding her, depicted by the mise-en-scène, does not ease, nor reflect, her feeling of isolation. While the Dauphin, in all his awkwardness, continues to avoid her, Marie Antoinette gets used to the royal court, establishes who her friends are, and woos the French people, but she still not satisfied with herself and her marriage. During this time, she develops an extravagant relationship with food in order to compensate surrounding herself with excessive decadent treats, especially in the iconic “I Want Candy” scene (hyperlink). Here, the camera alternates cutting and tilting, showing close-ups of drinks being poured, bets being placed, “candy” served as cakes, and jewelry and shoes being brought out like a next course. Stylistically, the mise-en-scène shows the shoes and cakes in the same colors, served in the same way, equating how truly lavish and abundant these luxury items are. The hidden appearance of a pair of Converse sneakers (at 0:10 in the clip), while a funny surprise, works with Coppola’s modern pop music choice to show Marie Antoinette as a typical teenage girl despite the royal title. Despite her mother’s death, Marie Antoinette’s character seems herself and at ease after the birth of her daughter, Marie Thérèse. The film switches from fast-paced scenes and music to focus on her time at Petit Trianon (her private residence), painting it as a calm, idyllic environment of nature and art. It is there, where Marie Antoinette appears most natural, and she no longer hides behind elaborate plates and eats simple, natural foods. In Figure 3, we can see her hosting her friends in a garden, as they exchange dialogue about the freshness of the cheese and milk. The sound, matching the slower pace, is composed of peaceful diegetic sounds from nature (birds chirping, breeze, etc.), and a calming non-diegetic score or classical music. Sofia Coppola’s directional choices for the characters, camera movements, and mise-en-scène, among other aspects, make Marie Antoinette into a culturally relevant and historically telling piece. The food in the film, everything from its décor, to the amount provided, to Marie Antoinette’s interactions with it, work to show her relationship with herself and the people of France, including her husband. At her most isolated and distant, she seems to surround herself with overwhelming amounts of food and desserts to overcompensate for her loneliness. It is only when she comfortably grows into herself that she accepts a simpler palate.

Chicken from the Fridge: Food and (Dis)comfort in Divorce by Patrick Kaper-Barcelata Marriage Story, written and directed by Noah Baumbach, chronicles the divorce of Charlie and Nicole. Throughout the film, food is featured in opposing contexts to highlight the presence and absence of home, unity, and family. The film opens with a montage accompanied by monologues from Charlie and Nicole, respectively, on what they each love about the other. “He’s very self-sufficient. He can darn a sock, and cook himself dinner, and iron a shirt,” tells Nicole as Charlie is seen in a warmly lit kitchen putting pork chops in the oven under pans of potatoes and greens. Henry, their son, stands on a chair at the counter and chops vegetables (Figure 1). Contextualized within the warmth of the scene, this kitchen shot, and in particular the parallel stances of Henry and Charlie, portray an image of family unity and homely comfort that is subsequently steadily deconstructed. The next time Charlie is seen in a kitchen, he is visiting Nicole at her mom’s house where she has moved with Henry after being offered an acting job in Los Angeles. Charlie stands at the counter eating alone a cold rotisserie chicken from the plastic container he took from the fridge (Figure 2). Nicole stands on the other side of the counter, drinking from a waning glass of wine. Between them, and unbeknownst to Charlie, lie their divorce papers in a manila envelope. The construction of the scene emphasizes the distance—both literal and figurative—that the divorce has caused between Nicole and Charlie. The image of family is crumbling, underscored by the paucity and cold of the last meal they experience together. Following the official filing of divorce, Charlie and Nicole soon reach a stalemate over whether Henry will stay in New York or Los Angeles; as a result, a judge appoints an expert evaluator to observe their parenting. Following the advice of his lawyer, Charlie hastily rents and furnishes an apartment in Los Angeles to prove his commitment to staying near his son. When the evaluator comes to visit, Charlie is seen cooking a meal for the second and final time. The role of this meal in Charlie’s attempt to portray a stable and loving home life emphasizes the centrality of cooking to family and homemaking. However, while the dinner resembles a family meal (Figure 3), the fact that the evaluator eats nothing and just observes contributes to a feeling of inauthenticity and posturing—a cold simulation of home. This cold is reflected in the blank, austere wall framed prominently above the table. In contrast to the warm, home-cooked meal in the opening montage, the subsequent occurrences of food in Charlie and Nicole’s divorce speak to the fragmentation of comfort and home in the dissolution of marriage. Marriage Story. Dir. Noah Baumbach. Netflix, 2019.

Food for Thought - The Martian by Andrea Brucculeri The Martian (2015) challenges the value of one human life against time, resources, and other lives. When astronaut Mark Watney is mistakenly left on Mars by his fellow space travelers, he is forced to put his botany knowledge to work and spends months growing potatoes with human feces as fertilizer. Meanwhile, NASA and space organizations around the world tackle the various complications and risks of bringing Mark back to Earth before he runs out of food. In The Martian, food is used to represent intelligence and moments of genius as the characters struggle through the trials and trade-offs of saving Mark’s life. For Mark, every important breakthrough is accompanied by food. He eats while thinking out loud about how to grow potatoes in space, and his solution is to use digested food (human waste) to grow more food. This is significant because Mark’s “clock” is based on how much food he has, since he already has machines continuously producing water and oxygen. Mark is always eating something small and crunchy, perhaps peanuts, while he brainstorms solutions to his food problem. Using the waste of his companions to nourish potential plant life is a flag of brilliance and irony, and highlights the importance of decomposition and breaking down organic matter. This is juxtaposed against Mark’s body on Mars. As pointed out at about 00:31:01 by a NASA employee, Mark’s body cannot decompose on Mars and will only eventually disappear because it will be covered by sand. Something that can’t decompose is unnatural (much like a human on Mars), while somewhat that can is a sign of life and the cycle of growth and dying. At NASA, Rich Purnell figures out how to retrieve Mark from Mars months faster than the current plan. The moment the idea strikes, Rich starts vigorously eating some sort of food that might have been the same peanuts or snack that Mark was eating while having his own stroke of genius. Rich’s plan ends up being the life-saving procedure for Mark, just like Mark’s potato growing plan ended up being a vital part of his survival on Mars. By the pace and almost mindless enthusiasm with which these characters eat, it is suggested that these snacks are fueling their thoughts. Therefore, even food 50 million miles away is contributing to Mark’s survival. The screen capture provided is from 00:28:37, the moment that Mark sees that his potato-growing plan is working, as a seedling has sprouted on Mars. The lighting makes the plant appear holy, like an angel, his saving grace. The focus on the tones of the dirt and the single drop of water resting on the top of the leaf emphasizes the life and growth in this picture, as these are things that are closely tied to plants being healthy and thriving on Earth. The way Mark caresses the plant is also reminiscent of the “Creation of Adam” painting in the Sistine Chapel. It is almost as if Mark is a divinely intelligent creature before making this miracle happen, as he has brought life to Mars and has produced food where food has never been produced before. The screen capture moment is especially significant because an extremely similar shot is shown at the end of the film when Mark is back on Earth and he says the same “hey there,” to a seedling on the ground (2:11:35). This scene brings the story full circle because it shows how life can be simultaneously simple and complex. On Earth, it takes very little thought to plant a seed, but on Mars, it takes great intelligence, ambition, struggle, and faith.

Mystical and Disciplinary Food in Matilda by Kennedy Thompson From the first scene of Matilda (1996), it is clear food plays an integral role. Self-sufficient Matilda trashes the Campbell’s soup can her wicked mother leaves on the stove and opts to make pancakes from scratch while the narrator explains that young Matilda “knew whatever she needed in this world, she’d have to get herself.” Her neglectful and sedentary family spends family time eating junk off TV trays in the dark, stuffing their faces with fiddle faddle popcorn, peanuts and cheese balls and guzzling Bud Light, Budweiser and soda. The nutritional value of the food matches their value as members of society; Mr. Wormwood cons people into buying faulty cars, Michael follows his father’s path, and Mrs. Wormwood spends her days playing bingo and applying lipstick. In the modern fairytale, food takes on a mystical quality, exposing the magical powers that work on Matilda’s behalf to help her overcome tyrannical adults, and also wields the power of the same cruel adults over children. When Mrs. Wormwood wins big in bingo, she takes the family to “Cafe the Ritz” to celebrate. Here, the mystical forces manifest in food first come into play. Throughout the film, Matilda’s magical powers appear through food in a sort of triumph of good over evil. At the “Ritz,” Mr. and Mrs. Wormwood make a scene as Mrs. Wormwood pries off Mr. Wormwoods hat, which Matilda glued to his head. Mrs. Wormwood topples backward over a table, and Mr. faceplants into a table of pies, launching them into the air. Nondiegetic swooshes, zings and zoinks correspond to the movement of the flying food. An extremely low-angle shot shows the pies soar across the restaurant, with one tart and a fork landing neatly in front of Matilda. Immediately after, a pie splatters in Michael’s face with a splat, making Matilda the only family member to make it out unscathed. Sporadic and short shots achieve the disorder of the event. The chaotic scene ends with Matilda scooping a bit of whipped cream from her pie and grinning in satisfaction. Her triumphant smirk stems from the creamy goodness of the treat and her awareness of the favor bestowed upon her by magical forces. Chocolate enforces adults’ overbearing rules when Trunchbull punishes Bruce Bogtrotter for stealing her chocolate cake by force feeding him an excessive amount of the same cake in front of all the students. A low-angle shot establishes Trunchbull’s authority over Bogtrotter as she reprimands his behavior. As the two characters speak, the low-angle shot alternates with an extreme close-up of Trunchbull’s face, which adds to her characterization as an unfair, repugnant principal. Next, the camera occupies an even lower angle, below the table on which the cake lies, which puts the cake container in a position decapitates Bogtrotter. His arms extend from either side of the container with fingers spread on the table, evoking a sense of torture. Then, the camera tracks Trunchbull’s hands as she prepares the cake for Bogtrotter, focusing on the knife thereby elevating the scene to a greater sense of danger. Trunchbull plops the cake into Bogtrotter’s hand, and he finishes the piece with some level of enjoyment only to be forced to consume two larger pieces. The shot zooms into an extreme close up of his chocolate-covered mouth before fading into the next scene. Throughout the rest of the film, Matilda’s interactions with food reveal her triumph over the callous adults in her life. She practices her magical powers by moving cheerios with her mind and proves her mystical abilities to Miss Honey by levitating a pitcher of water. Benevolent Miss Honey offers an escape to Matilda with tea and cookies and eventually adopts her. The film ends with the two sharing an idyllic picnic of Granny Smith apples with peanut butter and jellies, suggesting a happier future for Matilda. Works Cited Matilda. Directed by Danny DeVito, performances by Danny DeVito, Rhea Perlman, Mara Wilson, 1996.

The Exploration of Authenticity through Food by Junessa Sladen-Dew At the end of Master of None’s first season, Dev (Aziz Ansari) is left at an extremely low point of his life. At this time, his long-term girlfriend has announced that she is packing up all her belongings and moving to Tokyo and breaking up with him in the process. During this time of self-pity and sadness, Dev decided to follow the “no-regret” approach to life and embark on a journey of a lifetime in Italy to explore his favorite food, pasta. Through this impulsive adventure, Dev fulfills the dreams of many foodies through his travels to a foreign country to experience first-hand cuisine. However, this search authenticity in food is much deeper than just the food, it becomes a search for authentic human connection. As explored by Dev in Master of None, food and human connection are synchronized as one. Entering in the second season in the episode “The Thief,” Dev begins his journey in a quaint Italian town called Modena, in a pasta-shop owned by an old woman. Through this experience he gains an extremely authentic food experience and an even more authentic human connection that creates an environment where he is thought to be family. As a matter of fact, the director’s commitment to accuracy shoots actual events that occurred in the life of Aziz Ansari such as working in that exact pasta shop and getting stuck in an alley with fellow actor, Arnold. The quest for genuineness is even more startling in the aftermath of his break-up where he is lost for deep emotional intimacy and everything that comes with being in love. Serendipitously, his love for food and human connection leads him to Sara, creating a strong bond over their fascination with Italian meals. After his exploits in Italy, Dev returns to New York, desperate to create a similar authentic experience as the one he found in Modena. Moving from one job to next, all in affiliation with food the industry but without being fully involved, he finds each venture to be completely soulless and simply a commercial engine. Finally, he brings up the idea to make his own TV show that would use his ethnicity to show how food can bring people together and not on what makes people different. Throughout these pursuits in and around the food industry, Dev builds his personal identity around his life-long journey to find his authentic self in both romantic and platonic relationships. An extremely pivotal relationship throughout the TV show is the exchange between Arnold and Dev which is seen in Figure 1. In this medium shot with deep focus that symmetrically frames both characters in front of a back drop of Italian cheese and wine, we see the deep bond between the men which is shared around their love for Italian comfort food. To help accentuate the intimacy and shared authenticity of the moment, the sepia color scheme and simply lines create a welcoming and warm environment for all viewers. Through this scene and the litany of other scenes that follow the life of Dev on his pursuit of authenticity, we see the use of food to build deep and meaningful relationships with people across the globe.

More Than Just an Almond by Meg Van Cleve McFarland, USA tells the story of a high school football coach (Kevin Costner) who relocates with his family to McFarland, a small, rural town in California. Costner plays Jim White, or Coach White, a name that draws attention to his race in a town where the majority population is Latino. Coach White learns that many of his students work in the crop fields with their parents before and after school, running long distances daily in the California heat to support their family and get an education. Abandoning football, Coach White starts a cross-country team that finds success as both Coach White and his athletes learn what it means to be a community. People in McFarland have a complex relationship with food. The town is built upon agriculture, surrounded by fields and fields of produce. Most of the community work as “pickers”, or field workers who harvest crops like oranges, cabbage, or almonds. Coach White observes his students running from work to school and sometimes back to work, day after day in the blazing sun. Most can’t see themselves every leaving McFarland, and Coach White learns this reality as one of his best runners has a breakdown and quits the team. Coach White had been leading hill training on piles of almond hulls, as pictured above in Figure 1. However, food is also respected and revered in the McFarland community, particularly in communal settings. Coach White earns the respect of his students’ families only when he comes to their family dinner, walking away with an overflowing container of enchilada leftovers. Fundraisers for the cross-country team involve food sales of tamales and other traditional dishes, cooked with love by families of the team. The McFarland community even throws a Quinceañera for Coach White’s daughter, telling Coach White to get out of the way as they cook a feast in his kitchen and prepare a celebration for his family. The McFarland team overcomes adversity to win the state title, starting a cross country program that has sustained multiples titles and students since. McFarland, USA exposes a dark side to food production, particularly the way it treats its workers and communities. However, there is a silver lining in the way food is shown to be a comfort and a necessity in fostering community. Caro, N. (2015). McFarland, USA. Walt Disney Studios Motion Pictures.

Eating to Secure Status by Hannah Williams Diets and restrictive behavior are very popular amongst women and especially so among high-schoolers in the United States. Mean Girls (2004) demonstrates some of the behaviors adolescent women exhibit and even pressure their peers to participate in. In Mean Girls, food becomes a weapon used to separate in-groups and out-groups. By means of manipulation, food destroys the status of the most popular girl in school, Regina George, showing the important role food consumption has on our perceptions of others. As Cady is introduced to a group of girls called “the plastics,” she quickly discovers that there are a lot of things young women find to criticize themselves over beyond just being “fat” or “skinny.” In a place where body-criticism is normal and even expected, these young women feel they can’t be content with their own self-image, as Cady is in the start of the film. Throughout the film Cady becomes more and more aware of her outward appearance and the outward appearances of others, realizing the power their physical forms have over their popularity. Ultimately, Cady is consumed by the concept of social appearances and becomes a negative character in the film. Food becomes another way to define in-groups and out-groups as the film progresses. The school cafeteria is the center for several scenes that establish who is cool and who is not, declaring that food and the arenas in which we consume food area at the center of popularity. Several scenes connect teenagers in America with wild African animals, that are literally willing to kill one another for their food. The line between human and animal becomes blurred when humans act out of hatred and instinctual competitiveness, which often comes out when students are all crammed in a lunch room together. Food becomes a means of kicking Regina out of the in-group and pushing her into an out-group of sorts. One of Regina’s sources of power is her body and physical fitness. Once this is stripped away (along with other aspects of Regina that make her so popular) she loses most of her power. Cady Heron manipulates Regina’s understanding of the nutrition bars stored in Cady’s kitchen that her mother used to help undernourished African children gain weight. By tricking Regina of their purpose, Regina gains unwanted weight. Food becomes a weapon and ultimately the final straw that replaces Cady as the leader of the plastics over Regina no longer receives the respect and recognition she desires from others once her “hot body” is gone. At the climax of Regina’s defeat, Regina and the “plastics” are preparing to eat lunch together in the school cafeteria. Each plastic has a lunch consisting of a small salad, diet coke, and small piece of fruit. Once Regina no longer follows this “rule” and instead indulges in large amounts of junk food at lunch, she is excluded from the group. When Regina can no longer fit into her group-approved clothing because of her weight, she must be excluded from the lunch table, a rule she implemented herself that is used against her. Cady feels triumphant in her defeat of Regina, but also feels guilt in the way she treated another person. Mean Girls illustrates how food, a necessity to human life, can be at the center of popularity and status. Restriction, dieting, and weight gain can be game-changers for the way young women (or men) feel about themselves and their sense of security. Mean Girls is a film that explores American popularity and how destructive behaviors, such as calorie restriction tied to vanity, can often be at the center of the “popular” crowd. Waters, Mark, director. Mean Girls. Paramount Home Entertainment, 2004.

The Cheeseburger: A Ticket to Freedom by Na'dayah Pugh Mark Mylod’s 2022 thriller The Menu explores the dangers of associating food with wealth, performance and artistry. The film follows Margot, a “common woman,” who is hired to accompany pretentious foodie Tyler to an expensive meal at Hawthorn, an elite, isolated restaurant owned and operated by renowned chef Julian Slowik. As the film progresses, Slowik reveals a plan to kill everyone at the restaurant, including all twelve guests, the restaurant staff, and himself. Through this, he intends to punish the guests for various offenses: wealth, arrogance, lack of appreciation, and pretentiousness, to name a few. Margot, however, manages to escape death by requesting a simple cheeseburger-to-go from Slowik, thus convincing Slowik to allow her to leave. This encapsulates the film’s central argument: only by rejecting wealth, performance and artistry can one find liberation and escape. The first trap that Margot escapes is wealth. The prestigious restaurant Hawthorn is exclusive and expensive: only twelve tickets are sold per night, each with a four-figure price tag. There is a notable divide between the staff and the guests; main character Margot notes that her date, Tyler, didn’t ask the server’s name—despite the server showing recognition of Tyler—and Chef Julian Slowik, upon presenting the guests with a bread dish that lacks the bread, declares that “[bread] is and has always been the food of the common man,” and that because the guests “are not the common man, [they] get no bread.” However, Margot is a common woman; she lacks the wealthy, privileged background shared by the other guests. This fact is presented initially as one that ostracizes her from the rest of the guests, but eventually this idea turns positive—it sets her apart from the rest of the guests, freeing her from their privileged nature. Another trap that Margot successfully escapes is that of performance. The guests are brought to the restaurant by boat after paying their expensive tickets. When Margot reaches for her first plate, Tyler smacks her hand away to take a picture of the unblemished dish. Each course is preceded by an elaborate speech and display, whether a game of cat-and-mouse between staff and guests or sprinkling graham cracker crumbs on the floor and dressing guests in marshmallow stoles before setting the entire restaurant ablaze. This attempt to turn something inescapable—primitive, animalistic human hunger—into a spectacle is present in both fiction and reality. Yet, Margot ignores the spectacle. When Slowik delivers his speeches, she is the only guest who sits with her back turned to the chef. When he summons her to his office to ask whether she wants to die with the guests or with the staff, she offers a simple, understated response. When he tells her he “was expecting more,” she only says, “fuck you.” By physically and verbally rejecting the performative nature of Slowik and his restaurant, Margot edges closer to freedom from both. The final trap that Margot escapes is artistry. The emphasis on the artistic nature of food is demonstrated best by the character Julian Slowik, who boasts that “chefs play with the raw material of life itself” and claims that the culinary craft is “art on the edge of the abyss.” He even instructs the guests to not eat, reasoning that “[the] menu is too precious for that,” thus elevating aesthetic over nourishment. The preciousness of the menu becomes a matter of life or death; when Margot asks Slowik if she’ll be allowed to live, he tells her no because “that’d ruin the menu.” Later in the film, Margot explicitly rejects the idea that food can be art; when Slowik notes that she hasn’t touched her food, her response is simply, “there is no food.” At the end of the film, the cheeseburger that Margot requests is simple and genuine, like something served at a local diner. There is no elaborate plating or unnecessary garnish; Margot’s ticket to freedom follows her lead in rejecting the artistic potential of food. The film’s resolution only comes when Margot has requested the cheeseburger, the antithesis to all three of these associations. It rejects wealth, as Margot pays for it with a crumpled ten-dollar bill. It rejects performance, as it is presented to Margot without unnecessary speeches to accompany it. It rejects artistry, resting on a simple plate without elaborate garnish. Despite Slowik’s earlier declaration that Margot will die with the rest of them, after she takes a bite of the cheeseburger Slowik allows her to escape the elite punishment that was never intended for her, a “common woman,” in the first place. Margot’s escape from the restaurant proves that liberation from the performative and elite nature of the culinary craft can liberate the individual: all it takes is a simple cheeseburger. The Menu, Dir. Mark Mylod. Searchlight Pictures. 2022.

Poisonous Apples or Poisonous Men? by Kristy Sakano Yoshihiro Nakamura’s Miracle Apples (2013) is a Japanese film set in the countryside village of Tsugaru, Aomori Prefecture. The farmers of Tsugaru are unlike other Japanese farmers; where many farmers give up on cultivating apples due to their difficulty, Tsugaru triumphs, boosting apples to its primary product partly through the use of a powerful pesticide. The film focuses on one farmer, Mikami Akinori, who inherits four apple orchards and labors tirelessly to support his family. But when Kimura Mieko, his childhood love and wife, develops a painful allergy to the pesticides used to prevent infestations and disease, Akinori is determined to find a harmless alternative. Through the struggle that Akinori experiences, and the integrity he refuses to compromise, the reward of organic apples triumph over the non-organic apples in taste and quality. The importance of apples is clear as early as the opening credits. This fruit is a symbol for the strength and determination of the farmers of Tsugaru, and distinguishes them from other villages who failed at apple farming. Yet assimilation into the farming co-op’s usage of pesticides results in a life-threatening allergic reaction from Kimura Mieko, causing Akinori to be conflicted: should he conform to the community’s near-obsessive usage of pesticides, or attempt an alternative? Akinori chooses the alternative path; he has determined that the health of his wife is more valuable than the easy path pesticides provides. By Akinori declaring himself apart from the farming co-op, he has unknowingly ostracized himself from the others, operating outside of the standards of social conventions. In one particularly symbolic scene, Mieko tells Akinori, “You’re like the sun, always lighting the way for all of us. From here on, I hope you’ll always be lighting the path for us.” At the forefront of the organic movement, Akinori makes himself vulnerable to criticism and mockery, as all his initial efforts end in failure. All possible leads have been exhausted, causing the family funds to dwindle and forcing Akinori and his children into poverty and social isolation. But he remains determined, his resolve unshaken until the climatic scene. On the breakthrough, Akinori realizes that true success comes the absence of needless effort; he ceases weeding and sows soybeans instead, allowing the leaves to fall to the ground and naturally fertilize the soil. Apples reveal the pride involved in trying too hard to improve upon nature. On the 11th year, Akinori is successful – his remaining two orchards bloom, a sign of fruitful harvests. The opinions of their fellow villagers begin to change. Where he was previously mocked, deprived of help, ignored, and physically assaulted, his tenacity is now lauded. Akinori’s apples prove to be more flavorful and popular, appealing to the health-conscious lifestyle of Japanese citizens. The success of his apple orchard provides the satisfying resolution of the film as Akinori finally celebrates amongst his family, strained relations long forgotten. Apples represent more than livelihood to the villagers of Tsugaru; apples symbolize social status, familial relationships, and the tenacity of the one man’s spirit. Miracle Apples. Dir. Yoshihiro Nakamura. Perf. Sadao Abe and Miho Kanno. Toho, 2013. [Not Available] 3 March 2018.

Pageant Girls Take on Pizza by Caroline Gwaltney Miss Congeniality (2000) is a movie about the Miss United States pageant. There is an FBI investigation on a bombing threat, and Gracie is assigned to go undercover to investigate the situation. Gracie, in the movie, was introduced to the audience as a messy tomboy who is everything a pageant girl is not. In the picture above, Gracie eats a steak, pasta, and beer. The beer is what stands out the most. Pageant girls are ‘proper’ and would not be caught drinking beer. They also wouldn’t be seen eating a carb-filled meal, something like pasta. Gracie’s manners also stand out in the film. She chewed with her mouth open, spoke while she chewed, and, overall, just lacked basic manners. So, how is Gracie going to become a pageant girl? They gave her a complete make-over, taught her some manners, and practiced for the pageant for hours until she looked like a true pageant girl, including how to eat and what not to eat. Her pageant coach had to steal the donuts she was hiding while practicing for the pageant. At first, her lack of manners, hygiene, and eating habits were all barriers between her and the other pageant girls. Once she connects with them more, compromising some of their lifestyle, she lets them see her old habits. What was a barrier originally ended up becoming a bridge between her and the other pageant girls. Gracie and the pageant girls ultimately bonded over a carb-filled meal of pizza and beer. Once Gracie arrived at the pageant site, there was a brunch for all the girls. She comes in and meets Miss Rhode Island and some other girls. They are portrayed as stuck-up pageant girls, just as a stereotype would make them out to be. They sit down, waiting for the festivities to begin. The only person at the table who eats is Gracie. She eats a bagel with some cream cheese. No comments were made on what she was eating, but later, there were several instances where the girls commented about watching their carbs. It seemed odd since they were all at a brunch for the beginning of the pageant, but Gracie was the only one eating. Gracie being the only one eating further separates her from the other pageant girls. As the movie progresses, the gap between the stereotypical pageant girls appears to be closing as Gracie begins to understand them more. However, Gracie still has her ways and brings pizza for a group. Gracie was becoming more like them, but she wanted to share her attitude towards food with them. She got a large cheese pizza for them to share (Figure 1). The facial expression of all the pageant girls makes it obvious how they feel about the pizza. They rush to it because of how good it smells, and they look at it and know how ‘bad’ it is, even though it smells so good. It didn’t end there, either. Gracie took them to a trashy bar where paint was thrown on them. They took shots, drank beer, and ate more pizza! The pictures, the beer at the bar, and the pizza were a significant contrast from what the girls are normally used to. They are used to eating non-fat, low-carb foods and being prim and proper. At least, this is how the movie portrays them. This was the ultimate bonding experience for the group of pageant girls, and at this point in the film, Gracie seemed to fit in finally. They all bonded over junk food! Miss Congeniality. Dir. Donald Petrie. Castle Rock Entertainment, 2000.

There's More Beyond the Coconut: Complacency and Stagnation on Motonui by Kristy Sakano To Moana’s village, the island of Motonui is paradise. Food, safety, warmth, and family are abundant, but stagnation is also apparent. Moana, the protagionist of the 2016 Disney film Moana, dreams of pushing beyond the island boundaries, but social norms and the fear of the unknown prevents her from pursuing her desires. But when their food source is threatened by an incurable disease, Moana takes it upon herself to become the hero of her island, and by doing so, defines herself as the provider of food and light for Motonui. Prior to her departure, we find the island community entrenched in complacency; with groves of coconuts and schools of fish available on the near side of the reef, the villagers don’t even bother to explore beyond it. At the 10 minute mark, the village chief sings, “Consider the coconut! Consider its tree! We use each part of the coconut, it’s all we need. We make our nets from the fibers, the water is sweet inside. We use the leaves to make fires, we cook up the meat inside.” The analogy of the multi-purpose coconut is synonymous to Motonui’s fulfilling all needs for the villagers. The coconut, quite literally, ties the villagers’ identity and existence to the island, as they are fully dependent on the natural resources. Under the idyllic surface, the complacency of village life leads to stagnation. Exploration and outsiders are shunned, boats are docked and stored away, and the village chief rebukes all who question life outside the reef. The growth that feeds development, curiosity, and independence has been stifled in exchange for security and safety. But the darkness that plagues other islands has spread to Motonui, and the villagers suffer because of their stagnation. Food sources that were available for centuries have been depleted; fish stocks all around the village drop rapidly. In pursuit of the cure, Moana has heralded her presence in the film as a provider of sustenance, and chooses to leave the island. With the encouragement of her grandmother and the approval of her mother, Moana sets out to forge a new path for her self-identity. Coincidentally, both of these females’ roles are tied to food preparation, since women in Motonui tasked with preparing meals. In one pivotal moment, Moana’s mother tearfully bids her farewell with a wrapped sack of fruits to sustain her on her trip. The memento from Motonui is not a trinket, but the supplier of life: food. By bringing the fruits of Motonui on her trip, Moana has repopulated the Motonuian identity across the Polynesian islands. The approval of Moana’s mother is not only contingent on her daughter’s survival, but also Moana’s identity with Motonui. Thus, Moana’s departure allows progress to reign over stagnation on Motonui. Moana. Dir. Ron Clements and John Musker. Perf. Auli’I Cravalho and Dwayne Johnson. Walt Disney Pictures, 2016. Netflix. 26 February 2018.

The Parody of Feast in Monty Python and the Holy Grail (1975) by Naomi Wagner Monty Python and the Holy Grail playfully retells the Arthurian legend of the search for the Holy Grail. Through humor, social commentary, and extensive breaking of the fourth wall, this mock-heroic film satirizes many different aspects of both the medieval and modern world. The feast has been a central component of society and culture throughout history, so it should come as no surprise that the Pythons parody the feast in its various incarnations and perversions, ranging from the feast of excess and absurdity to the wedding feast and from the feast of transgression to the religious feast. At the beginning of Monty Python and the Holy Grail, King Arthur sets about gathering a band of knights for his court. An early scene in the film opens with Arthur and his company travelling along the road to Camelot as Sir Bedevere, the new man of science, explains, “And that, my liege, is how we know the earth to be banana-shaped” (0:22:00). Immediately after this food-related joke, the castle of Camelot comes into view and Arthur dramatically invites the knights to ride with him there. The scene immediately switches to the chaotic interior of the castle as the Knights of Camelot cavort amidst frantic animals and overworked servants and perform a silly sing-and-dance number atop the tables in a long line (see Figure 1). Upon the conclusion of their song, the scene abruptly switches back to Arthur and his companions as the king says, “On second thought, let’s not go to Camelot. It is a silly place” (0:23:40). Through its absurd portrayal of the carousing knights at Camelot, this scene provides a strikingly apt and comical example of a feast of intemperance along with all the excesses of behavior that accompany this type of feast. The knights of Camelot absentmindedly hit servants bearing trays of food, knock over platters and pitchers, and dance in a cluttered, dimly-lit environment with poultry underfoot (0:22:30-0:23:45). Their “silly,” wasteful antics and single-minded focus on the pleasure of “din[ing] well” characterize the transgressions of an abundant feast gone wrong (0:22:40, 0:23:40). Monty Python and the Holy Grail also spoofs traditional conceptions of family, profit, and the wedding feast when the overeager Sir Lancelot answers a distress message from a distraught prince who refuses to submit to an arranged marriage (0:47:30-1:00:30). The camera pans over an extended depiction of the preparations for the feast, the celebrating guests, and the merry wedding band, all bedecked with flowers (0:53:45-0:54:40). Then the scene abruptly devolves into over-the-top violence as Lancelot rushes into the midst of the wedding celebrations, hacking away indiscriminatingly at the guards, wedding guests, entertainers, and even a torch hanging on the wall (0:55:00-0:56:00). This episode ultimately culminates in a musical number sung by the surviving guests and the groom as the avaricious father futilely attempts to bring the situation back under control (see Figure 2). This juxtaposition of celebration and murder, with copious amounts of fake blood splattered over the clothes of the actors and food spilling on the ground, brings to mind a grotesque Bakhtinian carnival and subverts the traditional imagery of a joyful wedding feast. The Pythons comment on yet another perversion of the feast when King Arthur and his retinue brave the icy land of Nador. This short section of the film is a medieval-style cartoon that depicts the travelers wandering through various lands in search of the Holy Grail. As the narrator informs the audience, Arthur and the rest of the knights run out of food and are “forced to eat Robin’s minstrels” (1:05:05). The minstrels’ deaths occasion “much rejoicing” from Arthur and his retinue, who seem to justify their cannibalism not only because they have no food but also because the minstrels have annoyed them in their previous adventures (1:05:05). The narration and cartoonish style of this scene exaggerate the humorous aspect of the cannibalism (see Figure 3). Because the minstrels are yanked behind a rock as the narrator explains that they were eaten, the viewers do not actually see what happens to them firsthand. This visual choice distances the audience from the transgression of cannibalism and thereby prevents the scene from becoming too grotesque and shocking. Moreover, as one analysis of Monty Python and the Holy Grail points out, the cannibalism of the minstrels brings to mind the chocolate candy called Galaxy Minstrels (“Film”). This potential paronomastic allusion not only increases the humor of this scene by equating the act of consuming humans to that of eating chocolate, but also highlights the fact that both acts have traditionally been viewed as transgressions. The Python’s brief but amusing exploration of the taboo topic of cannibalism enables them to play with traditional notions about food, transgression, justification, and reprehension. The Pythons’ humorous treatment of the feast also extends to the religious, ritualistic feast, as shown when Arthur and his knights face the seemingly undefeatable Killer Rabbit of Caerbannog. In a flash of inspiration, Sir Lancelot suggests that they use the ancient religious relic known as the Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch to defeat their foe. The clerics accompanying the knights bring out the Holy Hand Grenade in a spoof of a Christian high mass, complete with incense and chanted Latin, and instruct the knights on how to use the relic by reading from the fictitious Book of Armaments (see Figure 4). After describing a previous use of the Hand Grenade in which a saint praises God for blowing “Thine enemies to tiny bits in Thy mercy,” the pseudo-scriptural text describes the triumphant feasting of the victorious people. Humorously, the items of the victory feast listed in the Book of Armaments consist entirely of ludicrous, incongruous food items: “And the Lord did grin, and the people did feast upon the lambs and sloths and carp and anchovies and orangutans and breakfast cereals and fruit bats and large chu—” At this point in his declamation, the reader is interrupted by a second cleric who, somewhat impatiently, tells him to “skip a bit,” and he does so (1:05:30-1:18:00). Through its exaggerated religious ritual, this scene takes on aspects of the Feast of Fools, a medieval custom that temporarily inverted normal social convention and hosted burlesque masses (Bakhtin 74-75). Additionally, the nonsensical list of foods eaten by God’s chosen people in the Book of Armaments pokes fun at traditional religious texts and calls into question what is truly sacred. In Monty Python and the Holy Grail, the Pythons invite us to laugh with them as they poke fun at everyone and everything, including themselves. Their undiscriminating parody uncovers and dialogues with various perceptions and embodiments of the feast, ranging from excess to celebration to transgression to ritual. As a result, the film offers a humorously insightful commentary on the nature of human society and the world, prompting us in turn to reconsider our own notions of food, community, and the feast. Works Cited Bakhtin, Mikhail M. Rabelais and His World. Translated by Helene Iswolsky, M.I.T. Press, 1968. Print. “Film: Monty Python and the Holy Grail.” TVTropes, TVTropes, 23 Feb. 2020, tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Film/MontyPythonAndTheHolyGrail. Accessed 27 Feb. 2020. Monty Python and the Holy Grail. 1975. Directed by Terry Gilliam and Terry Jones, Columbia TriStar Home Entertainment, 2001. DVD.

Food, With Love by Skyler Tapley Moonlight (2016) is the story of Chiron, an African American man, coming of age and making sense of his sexuality in a drug-ridden neighborhood of Miami. The film is shown in three acts. The first is Chiron as a child when he is called “Little,” the second is during high school, and the third and final act is a decade later when he has become “Black.” Within these acts the food scenes play an important role in expressing the feeling of love throughout the movie. In the first act we see a childhood ideal. Little is picked on by all of the other kids and doesn’t have a sense of home or a safe place. His mother is a crack addict and cannot support him fully. When he meets Juan, a strong and confident drug dealer, it allows a father figure into his life for the first time. They share a meal first at a diner before Juan takes him back home to meet Teresa, Juan’s girlfriend. Teresa prepares a meal for Little, and all three of them sit together at the table as a family. This moment is when Little bonds with Teresa and Juan and they become a significant part of his life and give him the love he’s been needing. They support him and try to let him feel loved as he starts to realize his sexual orientation. In the second act we see adolescent respite. Chiron is trying to find his way through high school. Juan has died and Chiron struggles to find a place that he can feel love. After his mother kicks him out for the night, Chiron goes to stay with Teresa. Again, they share a meal together, this time just the two of them. She cares deeply for Chiron and makes sure he knows that he is always welcome. Throughout the entire act Chiron goes through the trials of high school still slowly coming to terms with his sexuality. This moment with Teresa and a meal at her table is one of the only times in this entire act that Chiron truly seems safe and in a loving environment. In the final act we see adult intimacy. Chiron has turned into a different person. He comes out of jail now as Black, a nickname given to him previously from Kevin, a childhood friend with whom he shared his first sexual experience with in act two. Black is bigger, stronger, and “hard.” He resembles Juan and has ended up in the same career line as him: a drug dealer working the streets, this time in Atlanta. He receives a spontaneous phone call from Kevin. Kevin is a chef at a diner and offers to cook Black a meal if he is ever in town. Black decides to go see the only man who has ever touched him sexually. He arrives at Kevin’s work — a diner. The atmosphere is immediately a comfortable one back in the presence of food. Kevin decides to make him the “Chef’s Special.” This is where something special happens. For the first time in the film we see a preparation of food. We join Kevin in the kitchen and witness the love that comes from a man preparing food for another man. At this point the cinematography plays a very important role. The close-ups show the care that has gone into the food. The lighting is crisp and accentuates the food. The diegetic sounds of a diner have been replaced by a musical score, capturing the beauty of the moment. The scene is shot in slow-motion and gives the feeling of life slowing down. The time and significance that was being put into this food from one man to another is captured in these sixty seconds. It is a beautiful moment, and one that evokes tenderness and closeness between two men, all through food (figure 1). Throughout these three acts, a story of love and intimacy is created within a world of pain and suffering. Chiron endures the threatening world by sharing these moments of food with loved ones. These food scenes allow the viewer to see what Chiron longs for and how a dangerous world cannot breach the safe haven of a meal shared with people one loves. It paints a picture of how hard a life can be for a homosexual African American man, but it also shows the value that there is within a moment shared over food. Moonlight not only gives one the understanding of a life filled with pain and suffering and how that shapes one’s identity, but it also showcases the power behind food; and how love and intimacy can remain in one’s life no matter what. Works Cited Moonlight. Dir. Barry Jenkins. A24, 2016. Film.

Mellowed Martha by Kennedy Thompson Mostly Martha (2001) tells the story of an accomplished and high-strung head chef who learns to loosen up when she is faced with unexpected circumstances. As a renowned German chef who hails precision and timing, her transformation proves difficult. Not until she is saddled with raising her sister’s daughter, Lina, does Martha begin to relinquish control in her life. Food serves as a marker of Martha’s progress in melting her frigid demeanor. Recurring vignettes and a dinner scene in which Martha is pushed out of her comfort zone by an Italian chef show her working through the death of her sister and her pre-existing problems relinquishing control and maintaining interpersonal relationships. Two sets of recurring vignettes expose Martha’s progress: one of her therapy sessions and the other of family meals at the restaurant. The film begins with Martha lying on her therapist’s sofa, spouting instructions for making pigeon with truffles and admitting she is only there because her boss requires she attend. It is clear in Martha’s approach to stress-management, which involves frequent trips to stand in the freezer at work, that she needs therapy. In the second therapy session, the last before her sister’s car wreck, Martha meticulously plates a meal for her therapist on his desk (even though he has told her not to cook for him anymore) as she babbles about how difficult it is to coordinate 47 customers at once. During the third therapy session, Martha discusses a significant issue for the first time; although, it is still food related. At this point in the film, Martha has taken care of Lina for a while and a new chef, Mario, has joined her in the kitchen, both of which disrupt her once orderly flow. In the therapy session, Martha compares Mario’s working in her kitchen with two people trying to drive one car. Serving as a sort of tipping point, the scene shows Martha quite stressed. After the session, Martha is more vulnerable and affectionate in her relationship with Lina and eventually Mario too. Reluctantly, Martha concedes to her attraction to Mario. As they work, her guarded glares become lingering moments. Meanwhile, Mario, an eccentric force of energy, wins the heart of Lina and manages to get her to eat, which Lina has barely done since her mother’s death. Scenes of family meals, the time during which kitchen staff share food before a shift, coincide with Martha’s blooming progress. Camera angle and mise-en-scène denote Martha’s relationship with others as she learns to open up. The first family meal scene, a medium shot, pans to Martha in the corner, reading the newspaper and neglecting her staff. Mostly blocked by a barrier of people, the scene occurs just before Martha receives news of her sister’s wreck. Martha has not yet been thrown into a world of chaos, and therefore has not learned to relax. Her isolated position denotes her unwillingness to let people in. After the next family meal in which Martha angrily agrees to one bite of Mario’s pasta before storming away, a more lighthearted episode occurs, indicating the strengthening relationship between Martha and Lina. The camera tracks a plate at a medium close-up across the table in such a way that the viewer feels part of the meal and the staff seems more united. Lina sits at the table for the first time, and the shot ends on Martha, smiling as she looks up from whatever is in her lap. Immediately after the meal, the camera cuts to Martha observing Mario in the kitchen as he teaches Lina to cook. Signs of Martha’s mellowing and her budding relationship with Mario are found in her asking Mario for help finding Lina’s father, her thanking Mario for getting Lina to eat, and her agreeing to have Mario over for dinner. It is not until Lina suggests that the three share a meal at Martha’s home that she completely opens up. The scene begins with Mario’s exiling Martha to the living room so that he and Lina can prepare the meal. Lina shuts the door in Martha’s face, but the scene does not dwell on their separation; the camera immediately cuts to the three eating on the floor together. The dinner is far less proper than the usual meals at Martha’s plain kitchen table in her stark white dinning area. Lina and Mario sit on either side of Martha, forming a symmetrical composition with Martha as the connective tissue. Martha’s nervousness during the imprudent meal shows in her attempt to fetch plates from the kitchen. Lina, who has already begun to eat with her hands, and Mario block her and urge her to embrace the casual meal. A clink of Mario and Martha’s wine glasses arouses lively, non-diegetic music that plays throughout the scene. Close-ups of starbursts made of asparagus and twirling noodles make the mouth of any viewer salivate. Hands pop from every direction, in and out of the food-filled shots so that it is not clear whose hand belongs to whom. The camera shifts back and forth from close- ups of the hands and disappearing food to medium-range shots of the three as they laugh and enjoy the meal. Words come out of their mouths, but they are somewhat muffled and overpowered by the song. In a word, the scene is joyous. The carefree dinner is interrupted when Martha walks into the kitchen and finds the mess Mario has left in her kitchen. Mario quickly enters and helps Martha overcome an impending panic attack. Joy returns as Mario and Martha eye each other while playing pick-up sticks with Lina, and Martha audibly laughs for the first time in the film. A near kiss between Mario and Martha ends the scene. If Martha was partly guarded before the dinner, she has now teetered over to the side of vulnerability. A scene in which Martha allows Mario to blindfold her and feed her indicates her trust in him is deep enough to surrender to his control. Shortly after, Lina’s father comes to bring her to Italy, and in her absence, Martha is forced to acknowledge the bond that has grown between them. Unable to withstand the distance, Martha makes the ultimate sacrifice by quitting her job so that she can go with Mario to bring Lina home. A dinner scene with family and friends celebrates Martha and Mario’s wedding and the start of their life as a family of three. A pan across a full and lively table consummates their happiness. The film ends as it began, with a therapy session. Martha and her therapist sit on the couch together for the first time, and the therapist laments over his failed pie. Martha helps him work through possible missteps, making it appear that their roles have reversed. She is healed and no longer needs help opening up. Works Cited Mostly Martha. Directed by Sandra Nettelbeck, performance by Martina Gedeck, Maxime Foerste, and Sergio Castellitto, 2001.

Cures Beyond Windex by Daniella Dworschak Besides educating viewers on the universal cure that is Windex, Nia Vardalos’ heartwarming comedy My Big Fat Greek Wedding (2002) portrays the food, craziness, and love found within a Greek family. Although the movie focuses on the sometimes ludicrous obstacles the protagonists Tula and Ian face before getting married, the movie’s depth stems from Tula’s journey toward accepting and embracing her heritage and cultural identity. Food is known to be a large part of Greek heritage, however, in the film both Ian and Tula’s familial identity is expressed through the presentation of food or the lack thereof. From the movie’s commencement it is clear that Tula’s family is adamant about embracing their Greek heritage. From the Greek flag painted on the garage to Tula’s father’s swearing that every word has its roots in Greek origin, being Greek is Tula’s family’s way of life. One important aspect of their heritage is the presence of food as a source of community. Tula’s parents own a Greek restaurant where each member of the family is involved in some way. Tula also claims her mom was “always in the kitchen cooking food with warmth and wisdom and never forgetting that side dish of steaming hot guild”. However, although Tula loves her family, she never fully embraces her heritage as she felt it set her apart from others in a negative light. When in elementary school she was laughed at for eating “moose caca” and resented having to go to Greek school when all the other girls got to go to Brownies. It was these childhood experiences in which demonstrating her Greek heritage ostracized her and later created her desire to pull away from her culture. She describes her family by stating, “I’m Greek right…My whole family is big and loud and we’re always together eating, eating, eating…And Greeks marry Greeks to breed more Greeks to be loud breeding Greek eaters”. This comical portrayal of Tula’s family shows both how engrained food and feasting is within their culture, but also demonstrates Tula’s mild bitterness towards her family. It is only when discovering the richness of her culture, in comparison to Ian’s, that Tula is able to appreciate her family and find a truer sense of self. Throughout the movie scenes of feasting are shown in both Tula and Ian’s family to compare the depth of their respective cultural heritage. Because Tula realizes the liveliness of her family’s feasting as compared to Ian’s, she rediscovers love for her family’s culture. When the couple goes to eat at Ian’s parents’ house for the first time the ambiance is very bleak and all that is seen is neutral colors, a vast contrast to the brightly decorated meals at Tula’s home. Furthermore, there is no meal actually served at Ian’s house, only the promise that a cheesecake will be brought out. As food is a great expression of culture, especially in Tula’s family, the lack of food represents a lack of depth in culture. Cheesecake is in itself is also a very simple, culturally ambiguous dish which doesn’t provide much substance or flavor. Ian’s family mirrors this cultural ambiguity, illustrating that the food people consume can show a lack of cultural identity. Tula’s parent’s dinner, dissimilarly, is a feast filled with lots of people and lamb roasting on a spit. The feast given by Tula’s family for Ian’s parents is the most iconic scene of the movie illustrating how food expresses the Portocokalos’ culture. Non-diegetic Greek music swells as the Ian’s parents get closer to the party. The feast is clearly one of celebration: all of the Greek relatives are dancing around the roasting lamb-the food acting as the clear center of the merriment. As the in-laws arrive the music subsides and the noise instead becomes the music of the Greek family shouting welcomes. Compared to the cold anti-feast of Ian’s parents, the atmosphere full of food and people is exemplary of the sense of community the Portokalos’ like to create as part of their culture. The fire burning in the front yard also symbolizes the love and passion found within the family’s customs. While heat has associations of warmth and comfort, the cold food served at the Millers house is a reflection of their family customs as well. Along with the fire and roasted lamb, the cake which Ian’s parents bring to the feast is also quite representative. When Tula’s mother is presented with the Bundt she cannot understand why there would be a hole in it and remedies this with comically inserting a flower pot into the Bundt. Although this is just a cultural misunderstanding, it is quite logical to question why anyone would want a hole in a cake as it provides less substance. The hole could represent the lack of rich culture in Ian’s family which Tula’s mom attempts to fill with a flower pot and her Greek heritage. After experiencing Ian’s family, Tula realizes that although her family is loud and overbearing it is merely out of love. By marrying Ian in the Greek Church, Tula embraces her Greek heritage while also merging with a new one. Tula’s father describes the union perfectly when explaining that Ian’s last name Miller roughly translates to “apple” and that Tula’s last name means “orange” and while they are all different in the end they are all fruit. Tula explains that she figured out that, “[her] family is big and loud but they’re [her] family, and wherever [she] goes whatever [she] does they will always be there”. It is through newly appreciating her family’s heritage and food that Tula is able to define her own identity. Although Tula’s family is boisterous and forceful, the process of marrying Ian allowed her to discover gratefulness for her family’s culture. It is through food and feasting that Tula first found her dislike of her culture, however, the comparison to Ian’s family dinners revived her appreciation and love for it as well. My Big Fat Greek Wedding emphasizes how food is more than just a vessel to bring people together but can be a representation of who one is.

A Grit-ty Lawyer by Dain Ruiz Jonathan Lynn’s My Cousin Vinny (1992) is a comedy film that chronicles the court case of two young men being tried for a murder they didn’t do. The film follows Vinny Gambini (Joe Pesci), a newly licensed personal injury lawyer from New York and the cousin of one of the men on trial, as he represents the two in his first-ever court case. As the trial proceeds, Vinny and his fiancee, Mona Lisa Vito (Marisa Tomei), run into problem after problem with the court and the Alabama community all while the lives of these two men are in his hands. In the scene above, Vinny and Mona Lisa walk into a local restaurant to order breakfast. After opening the menu, only three options are available: Breakfast, Lunch, and Dinner. Vinnie orders two Breakfasts and the server immediately dumps a baseball-sized amount of lard onto the grill. When the dish is served drowning in grease, Vinny immediately questions the server about one of the foods on his plate. The server explains that the food is grits and Vinny and Mona Lisa are bewildered. Vinny asked the server what grits are, and he explained that it’s made of corn and needs to be soaked for 15-20 minutes before being topped with butter and served. The relationship between this film and food is through the idea of bridging two different cultures through shared food experiences, similar to the “Hot Dog Bridge” painting by Russel T. Gordon. When a witness on the stand claims that the murder took place between a five-minute interval while he was cooking grits, Vinny calls upon the jury to question the timeline of when this murder took place. After learning that grits should be cooked for 15-20 minutes during breakfast, he connects with the jury by calling upon their past experiences cooking grits to fully establish a timeline of when this murder could have occurred. Vinny, an Italian-American from New York, has to learn about traditional southern foods to fully connect with his jury and sway their verdict in favor of his clients. Food acts as a bridge between the two cultures, Vinny’s culture and the South, and allows Vinny to relate to people so different from himself and eventually get the verdict he needs to save his cousin and his friend. Hot Dog Bridge, Russell T. Gordon, 1974, Color Lithograph, Gift of Dr. Christopher A. Graf and Janet Graf, his wife, Object #: 74.28.12. My Cousin Vinny. Dir. Jonathan Lynn. Perf. Joe Pesci, Marisa Tomei. 20th Century Studios, 1992.

Tantalizing Luxury by Olivia Holder My Fair Lady is a musical based on Pygmalion by George Bernard Shaw. In this film, Miss Eliza Doolittle, a commoner, is taken in by the distinguished Professor Henry Higgins who makes a bet with his friend, Colonel Pickering, that he can, by improving the way she speaks, transform Eliza. By teaching her to “learn how to speak,” he claims he can transform her from a common flower girl into a lady who can make small talk with those at Buckingham Palace. During the process of her transformation, food serves as a symbol of the power of class and station; it is akin to the mythical Tantalus in that it both tantalizes and evades Eliza. The first time that Eliza and Higgins meet, the Professor carelessly tosses the change of his pocket at Eliza giving her what, to him, is an insignificant amount. To Eliza these coins are a fortune. The other commoners on the street wonder what the new “heiress” will do with her money. Upon reflection, Eliza declares that one of the desires of her heart and symbols of a comfortable life is “lots of chocolates for me to eat.” Her dreams of luxurious food contrast sharply with the mise en scène of Covent Garden, the square where she lives. At the end of a musical sequence expressing her dreams of chocolate and comfort, in a dramatic exit, Eliza mimics the image of the well-to-do. Rather than chocolates, however, the food that she is surrounded by is the food of the poor. The scene is filled with bales and carts of commoners’ food for sale. Instead of a carriage, she sits among rotting cabbage leaves in the back of a grocery cart holding a bunch of celery rather than a flower bouquet, while more bruised cabbage leaves rain down on her head instead of flower petals. Once Eliza enters Higgins’s home, chocolates along with all other foods are used as bribes. When this proposal for a total transformation of persona is first introduced to Eliza, she refuses to take part. As she leaves for the door, a medium shot isolates Higgins, Eliza, and a sliver tray of chocolates as Higgins waves luxury under her nose to bribe her to take part in the bet. Chocolates are thus established as a symbol of the power of disparities and social standing. This offering of chocolate on a silver tray embodies the power that Higgins’s status and class lend him and his ability to wield this power over Eliza. As he flashed the tray in front of her, Higgins holds in his hand the society and luxury that Eliza longs for. Once she agrees to undergo her transformation and take lessons from Higgins, food is constantly denied to her. Unless she pronounces her exercises correctly, she is, in one instance, forbidden from taking part in the next two meals of the day. In a particularly memorable scene, the camera invites the viewer into Eliza’s point of view. As she receives a lesson, Higgins and Pickering are eating tea. Each time that one of the men walk by with tea in hand, both Eliza’s eyes and the camera (and therefore the viewer’s eyes) follow the cup of tea as it is carried across the room. The tea table is filled with sweet treats, but Eliza can only watch the two men pick at it while struggling to keep up with her lesson. Higgins tries to teach famished Eliza how to say “cup of tea” by saying, “cup-cup-cup-cup-of-of-of-of” while unwittingly waving a piece of cake in front of her face. With each syllable the cake bounces encouraging her face to bob with the movement of the cake while she pronounces her words hopelessly wrong. With her head bobbing to each syllable that Higgins utters, food once again delineates the relative positions of power and status. This is reinforced when the two men at tea on the left side of the screen discuss what to do with the last strawberry tart and look to the right where Eliza is fawning over the table spread. The camera follows Higgins as he walks toward the right with the cake in hand so that his meeting with Eliza is placed in the center of the camera frame. This allows the fact that he continues to walk toward the right, past Eliza, and to the birdcage to be emphasized. The viewer feels Eliza’s pain as the last of these coveted tarts is feed to the bird. This scene once again marries food with power. Under Higgins’s tutelage, this marriage denies the camera a chance of witnessing Eliza take a bite. Once the goal is finally achieved and Eliza passes her test at the Palace, she runs away from Higgins’s house and escapes to the his mother’s home. There, she finally is granted the power she sought throughout the film. Armed with a loaded tea table of her own, she asks Higgins, “Would you care for some tea?” When Higgins’s mother joins Eliza and demands that he use his manners, Higgins exclaims, “Do you mean that I am to put on my Sunday manners for this thing that I created out of the squashed cabbage leaves of Covent Garden?” As he utters this line our attention is called to the change of relationship between food and Eliza’s status that was established at the beginning of the film. The change, however, is mediated by the fact that Eliza, even when surrounded by a spread of her own, never actually drinks or eats any of the tea or cakes. This foreshadows the fact that she will return to Higgins and forever cater to his whims. Although this story is based on Shaw’s adaption of Ovid’s tale of Pygmalion, the influence of Tantalus’s myth also pervades the film. Instead of pools of water, cups of tea flee from Eliza, and rather than fruit hanging on the branch, strawberry tarts evade her grasp. In this film, food successfully symbolizes Eliza’s elusive goal of social standing. Works Cited My Fair Lady. Dir. George Cukor. Perf. Audrey Hepburn and Rex Harrison. Warner Bros, 1964.

The Deadly Sin of High Class by Jack Wang Set almost entirely around a lavish dinner table, the short film Next Floor (2008) is a nearly dialogue-free piece of cinematography that makes a powerful statement about the way we live in first-world countries. Over the course of nine minutes, no pun intended, the well-dressed dinner guests literally eat themselves into oblivion. Save for a few pauses to gulp down wine, our diners shovel bite after carnivorous bite into their cavernous maw. The feast is only briefly put on hold when the weight of their consumption causes them and their table to crash through the ground to the floor below. Once settled, their gorging start anew, despite the impending doom of falling lower and lower. With visceral colors, clever framing, and well-purposed camera angles and shots, Denis Villeneuve’s Next Floor presents gourmet cuisines in an unappetizing way. The nauseating feeling starts from the very first shot of the dining table. A whole goat coated in a blood-like sauce lay lifeless in a silver platter. As the shot opens, a shark can be spotted in the corner. Such gruesome imageries assault the palette for the entire film. With extreme close ups on raw organs, empty ribcages, and animal heads, Villeneuve makes the unmistakable connection between food and death. The visceral visuals are accompanied by carefully chosen sound effects. The sophisticated air created by live classical music clashes with the savage crunch and wet sounds of flesh being consumed. The food in this film drives a deeper meaning than just the gluttony of our diners. In the direct sense, the rhino head, cheetah carcass, and whole shark represent our role in causing the extinction of life through environmental destruction. Indirectly, the food represents the resources of our world, where its scarcity are highlighted by the exotic nature of the food. The mise-en-scène adds significant connections to this theme. In the bright glow of the chandelier, our guests’ does not seem concerned with their bottomless appetite. After all, there is always another plate of food and bottle of wine waiting around the corner. In their ignorance, the surroundings progresses towards a worsening state of dilapidation and darkness. The contrast between the dining table and the rest of the room draws parallel with the privileged life of the few versus the poverty of the many in the current world. Villeneuve cleverly communicates political meanings through not only a hand-picked menu but also a selective guest list. Our gluttons range from skin heads and aristocrats to military, each staring each other down as they compete to stuff themselves. Only two guests does not partake in the feast. A man in vegetative state and a woman who refuses to eat. If we were to imagine the dinner guests as countries, the fact that the comatose man is also the only colored person speaks volumes about his potential significance as a representation of the third world, where the majority of non-whites live. He is both under-represented in terms of world population to the number of seats at the dinner table, as well as his share of the world’s resources due to his inability to eat. The woman may be a representation of the minority in wealthy countries who opposes the way resources has been distributed. However, she does not have the power to overcome the majority and befalls the same fate of falling into oblivion. Next Floor not only makes a powerful statement of the human crisis of consumption, but also elaborates on the nuances of the problem—the fact that a minority of humanity is dooming all of man. The film ends with a slow zoom into an extremely close shot of the accusing stare of the head waiter, almost as if to say: If you are watching, you are most likely the few who are guilty of this overconsumption. Now that you are aware of your sin, what are you going to do to repent? Work Cited Villeneuve, Denis. “Next Floor.” nextfloor-film.com. 15 May. 2008. Web. 1 Feb. 2017

Food for Relationships: Forming and Healing by Sofia Soto Sugar In No Reservations (2007), director Scott Hicks uses food, appetite, and spacing, among other things, to depict a growing fondness and relationship between the main characters – Kate (Catherine Zeta-Jones), Zoe (Abigail Breslin), and Nick (Aaron Eckhart). The film begins with a long shot of Kate through the window of her therapist’s office, showing the emotional disconnect that Kate maintains, a level of distance from everyone – the audience included. Kate’s life is thrown out of the frying pan and into the fire when her sister is killed in a car accident and she is then left with full custody of her 8-year-old niece, Zoe. Despite being called one of the best chefs in New York City, Kate can’t get Zoe to eat. The strain in their relationship can be seen in the picture above, where Kate has just served Zoe dinner for the first time – an elaborate, not kid-friendly, full body fish with its eyes staring right back at Zoe. The mis-en-scène reflects their relationship as well: they are very distant from each other (both physically and emotionally), and seem stiff in Kate’s cold and professionally equipped kitchen. Following suggestions from her very pregnant sous-chef and her therapist, Kate tries again with some bland looking fish sticks after Zoe’s first day of school: to no avail. Bernadette, the restaurant owner and Kate’s boss, hires a new sous-chef, Nick, to help the kitchen while Kate is adjusting to life with Zoe, and he proves to be Kate’s complete opposite. Light-hearted and goofy where Kate is permanently steely and straightforward, Kate’s relationship with Nick is tense as well. The audience is introduced to him from behind as he is gesturing exaggeratedly to the opera playing in the kitchen, seemingly catching him off guard. Kate grows to accept him after he finally gets Zoe to eat some of his fresh spaghetti in a scene full of subtle coercion, with shots taken from the other side of shelves and counters as if we, the audience, are spying on a private moment. After this, Zoe develops an appreciation for Nick and encourages, if not forces, his relationship with Kate by inviting him over to cook. This shows the biggest change in the film with a softening of Kate’s character and a new closeness physically exhibited by the characters. The film, towards the end, begins to exhibit more harmony both in Kate’s professional relationship with Nick and her personal relationship with Zoe. Kate and Zoe, as seen in the picture below, no longer exhibit physical distance and spend a lot more time together having fun. At the end of the film, Kate and Nick are sharing their work space and, instead of bumping into each other, they have it systematically split down the middle in their shared restaurant. The shot of the restaurant is placed from the perspective of the chef duo in the kitchen, showing one unified view right from the couple in sync. The film ends with a shot through the window, similar to how it started but showing how far the characters have come: instead of a self-centered, lonely, and isolated Kate, it shows a finally happy Zoe changing the rotating “Kate, Nick, and Zoe’s Bistro” sign on their new restaurant. Works Cited: No Reservations. Dir. Scott Hicks. Prod. Kerry Heysen and Sergio Aguero. By Carol Fuchs. Perf. Catherine Zeta-Jones, Aaron Eckhart, and Abigail Breslin. Warner Bros. Pictures, 2007.

Bank of Bad Habits by Genna Holtz Ocean’s Eleven (2001) chronicles a heist carried out by eleven thieves in a team led by Danny Ocean and Rusty Ryan. Each thief Ocean and Ryan select for the job specializes in an area of illegality, each man is necessary for carrying out the seemingly impossible task. Through incredibly clever means of manipulation and deceit, the team carefully and painstakingly plans and executes a robbery of the Bellagio Casino in Las Vegas. The references to food in the film are so ingeniously subtle that most audiences fail to recognize the food’s meticulous placement, but that’s where the genius of Ocean’s direction lies. Food gently but persistently adds dimension to the enigmatic character Rusty, played by Brad Pitt, to communicate his emotional state. In almost every single scene in which he appears, Rusty is eating something. Most of Rusty’s scenes occur in frames with short-depth of field and low-key illumination. This gives the character a quality of mystery and shadiness, fitting for a thief. In his scenes Rusty, whether deeply engaged in strategic planning with his team or collecting intel on the casino, munches away at his food constantly. Rusty’s consumption never takes precedence or is referenced by other characters, but a close observation of Rusty’s eating in tandem with the plot reveals that the foods he chooses suggest his mood. In order of his fourteen main appearances, Rusty eats nachos, whiskey, coffee, soda, cotton candy, jello, gum, salad, a lollipop, shrimp cocktail, Red Bull, ice-cream, candy, and finally, a burger. Each of these foods symbolizes his feelings. For example, when Rusty and Danny are assembling the team, Rusty eats soda and cotton candy. While these choices seem appropriate since the scene is set at a carnival, Danny choses not to eat anything while Rusty munches on his snacks the whole time. His juvenile food choices convey that he is giddy and excited about the plan. This is supported by the closeups on Rusty’s smirks and boyish grins. In the next food appearance, Rusty uses jello to mock Saul, the older gentleman he is trying to recruit for the team. Rusty lazily eats the jello, a food usually associated with elderly individuals in hospitals, to make fun of the fact that Saul seems to be more health conscious now that he’s getting older. In fact, Saul does conspicuously peel an orange, a healthful food choice, as the pair sit and talk together. Later, when the team is practicing how they will infiltrate the Bellagio’s vault, Rusty sips on a Red Bull. This demonstrates that he is very nervous and trying to gear up for the big event. In all of these iterations, food is in low-lighting and shown in a color that blends in with the rest of the scenery. It never directly demands the audience’s attention, but observant viewers recognize that it adds depth to Rusty’s character. These relatively unhealthful choices communicate to the audience Rusty’s ever-evolving mental state, characterized by compulsory consumption. Food’s ability to symbolize and convey emotion is epitomized by the final scene of the film. As Rusty waits for Danny, he munches on a burger. Midway through this scene, silent except for the diegetic crumples of the wrapper encasing the burger, Rusty gets heartburn and throws the burger in the garbage. The gesture is symbolic of the job coming to completion, and indicates that Rusty is done, and feels at peace. His consumption can stop because the heist is officially over. Additionally, it’s possible that his heartburn foreshadows that just as there are consequences for his consumption of unhealthful fast food, there will be consequences for his robbery of the Bellagio. The continued presentation of food in conjunction with Rusty suggests to audiences that the character’s consumption of both food which is bad for him and money that doesn’t belong to him will eventually come back to haunt him. Furthermore, while his food tendencies may suggest his addiction is to eating poorly, junk food is a proxy for Rusty’s bad habit of large-scale robbery and fraud, serious crimes with serious consequences. He chooses get-rich-quick schemes instead of hard work. Rusty’s affiliation with constant consumption in an array of situations and environments hints at his addiction to crime. The shots never zoom in on his food, in fact several times food is just out of frame or in low lighting, but it is always there. Just as the food is hidden but present, Rusty’s underlying, internal struggles are obfuscated by his “man with a plan who plays it cool” persona. Rusty speaks few words, but his choice and consumption of food speaks volumes about his inner workings. Works Cited: Ocean’s Eleven. Directed by Steven Soderbergh, Warner Brothers, 2001.

Understanding the Morality of Animal Consumption by Marcella Pansini Okja tells the story of a teenage girl named Mija on a journey to protect her eponymous pet—a genetically engineered super pig—from an American company called the Mirando Corporation that is fixated on turning Okja into food for mass production and consumption. As stated by Lucy, the eccentric powerful CEO of the Mirando Corporation, “Our super pigs will not only be big and beautiful, they will also leave a minimal footprint on the environment, consume less feed, and produce less excretions. And most importantly, they need to taste f***ing good” (0:02:27). Lucy’s announcement fixating on the flavor of a pig sets the stage for the dichotomy in how animals are presented throughout the film, they are seen as either food and a means of profit or as friends and a source of comfort. Okja is incredibly capable of intelligence and care; however, the Mirando Corporation’s primary concern is that the super pig must ‘taste good.’ Carnism, the invisible belief system that conditions people to eat certain animals is normalized, which is seen through the film’s depiction of a high consumption of meat by the American public. With Carnism, we believe we kill animals out of necessity, whereas we really kill them out of ideology (Gander). In my opinion, the public’s belief that it is okay to consume certain animals has little to do with the animals themselves: it is mostly based on our perceptions formed by cultural influences. Pigs, or super pigs like Okja, are just as intelligent and sentient as dogs, who are treated like family while pigs are treated as property (Gander). In the film, Mija and her grandfather, who are South Korean, treat Okja like a member of the family. On the other hand, American consumers constantly demand new innovations in the meat industry. As claimed in Korsmeyer’s Food and Philosophy, “Part of the experience of this kind of [violent] meal involves an awareness, however underground, of the presence of death amid the continuance of one’s own life” (159). The idea of animals and food being viewed differently depending on the cultural perspective is seen in Okja as well as Food and Philosophy. Many modern consumers, such as the Americans, are fine with eating meat as long as they are not reminded of where their food came from. In Okja, the Mirando Corporation combats this guilt by framing its consumption of super pigs as ‘eco friendly.’ They assure its consumers of the morality of their product while framing the consumption of animals as an issue of personal freedom rather than personal justice. Okja depicts how many societies and the meat industry are solely concerned with one thing: making a profit. In the film’s climax, Mija is finally reunited with Okja through the help of the Animal Liberation Force. However, Okja is captured by the Mirando Corporation and is on the chopping block, seconds from death. This scene features a wide shot with Mija, Okja and a Mirando Corporation worker, which captures the horrifying environment the three characters are currently in. By using a muted, blue-toned color scheme, the scene appears cold and threatening. The metal trap encompassing Okja also works as a physical and emotional barrier between Mija and Okja. The laboratory, clinical clothes the Miranda Corporation worker is wearing and the needle in his hand emphasizes the dichotomy between the worker’s use of ‘cold’ science and Mija for how they perceive animals. Mija is finally able to confront Lucy and asks her for her reasoning, “Why do you want to kill Okja?” “Well, we can only sell the dead ones,” she replies (1:46:09). This difference in the perception of animals is finally settled by Mira trading a solid gold pig figurine in exchange for Okja’s life, satisfying Lucy’s greedy desires. In conclusion, Mija feels concern and compassion for Okja but her concern makes the audience painfully aware of the millions of animals that are not so lucky and are forced to suffer at the hands of humans. Depending on one’s culture, one can see animals and food as either one in the same or two very different concepts, but these consumers fear being faced with the consequences of their choices, much as Korsmeyer has. Works Cited Gander, Kashmira. “Carnism: Why We Love Dogs, Eat Pigs and Wear Cows.” The Independent, Independent Digital News and Media, 6 Sept. 2017, http://www.independent.co.uk/life-style/food-and-drink/carnism-why-love-dogs-eat-pigs-wear-cows-leather-pork-dr-melanie-joy-vegan-psychology-a7932621.html. Joon-ho, Bong, director. Okja. Netflix, 2017. Korsmeyer, Carolyn. “Food and Philosophy: Delightful, Delicious, Disgusting.” sakai.unc.edu/access/content/group/e67830b0-3c81-4694-86e5-ad1873d94d2b/PART%20TWO%3A%20WHAT%20IS%20FOOD/3.%20Green%20Butchers/Korsmeyer%20Delicious%20_%20Disgusting.pdf.

Food, Vengeance, and Cruel Irony by Jack Wang Made in Korea, Oldboy (2003) is a classic revenge story with a twist told through the life of Dae-su, who was abducted, thrown in a private prison, and then mysteriously released after fifteen years. The film begins right before Dae-su’s abduction, and ends shortly after the conclusion of his quest for vengeance. Old Boy is loud and crass, and with an ending so sickening yet profound that one will be left speechless in horror and awe. Within the chaos, the more subtle, yet important elements of Oldboy are easy to miss—one such element is food. Director Chan-wook chose what Dae-su ate with care. Although seemingly random, this essay will discuss why fried dumplings and octopus share the significance of representing Dae-su, one during his imprisonment, and the other after it. During Dae-su’s fifteen years in prison, he not only spent every day in the same windowless room, but he also had to eat fried dumplings every meal. Even the most ambrosial delights will becomes nauseating garbage after so long. Dae-su’s lack of pleasure in eating is visualized in close-up shots of his face and of dumplings. His face never shows any emotion when eating; the dumplings look stale and cold, lacking the appetizing shade of golden yellow. Dae-su may have lost enjoyment in food through tedium, but he found something new. Just like the identity of his next meal, Dae-su’s determination for revenge became never-changing. This steel is evident in Dae-su’s eyes whenever he chomps down on another dumpling. The accompanied crunch of dumpling skin resembling the sound of crushing bones. It is this rage that makes him try the dumplings of hundreds of restaurants to find the one that sold his prison food; the pain of fifteen years forever tattooed onto his tongue. It is this anger that keeps him standing when he beats down twenty men even after getting stabbed in the back. Dumplings are a reminder of Dae-su’s pain—a symbol of his will. We observe similar determination when Dae-su eats the san-najiki, or live octopus after his release. Sheer anger masks his face as he bites the head off of the octopus. The shaky camera mimics the nervous eyes of the sushi chef as the camera moves slightly to focus on the writhing limbs of the octopus, then back to Dae-su’s face again as he shoves the rest of the eight-legged creature into his mouth. The scene ends with a bird’s-eye-view of Dae-su passing out onto the sushi bar, fading to black as he chokes on the octopus’ tentacles. Chan-wook’s first person point-of-view makes the scene especially raw and gritty, seating the audience right at the table with Dae-su. At the time of the scene, it may seem like a foreshowing of the fate of Dae-su’s enemies. After all, Oldboy is the story of Dae-su, who after over a decade of confinement and psychological torture, gets to exact revenge on his abuser? Alas, this is not the case. The octopus actually parallels Dae-su’s fate. Later scenes reveal that Dae-su is in fact not the seeker of revenge, but the target. In high school, Dae-su spread a rumor that inadvertently led to the suicide of a classmate’s lover. This classmate, Lee, then devotes his life for revenge against Dae-su. Although Lee eventually dies in front of Dae-su, the damage he has done to Dae-su is irreparable. Similar to the octopus, Dae-su brings down his enemy at practically the cost of his life. Through these two food items, Director Chan-wook was able to highlight the essence of Dae-su’s life, revenge, and the cruel irony of his fate. The dumplings’ never-changing appearance throughout the film portrays Dae-su’s unwavering goal of vengeance. The octopus, on the other hand, secretly mocks Dae-su’s goal by representing the true situation of Dae-su as the prey, not the predator. The subtle use of food serve as a nice balance to the callous themes of Oldboy. Work Cited Oldboy. Dir. Park Chan-wook. Perf. Choi Min-sik. N.p., n.d. Web.

Oldboy and Consuming Vengeance by Hien Le "Revenge is a dish best served cold," an expression used around the world, can be seen literally and figuratively within Park Chan-wook’s film, Oldboy. This film is centered around the character Oh Dae-su (played by Choi Min-sik) and his journey for vengeance after being held captive for fifteen years. Dae-su’s few connections to the outside world would be his daily meals and whatever was playing on the TV, clinging onto the last pieces of his humanity. Throughout his fifteen years of imprisonment, not only does he crave to eat anything other than the fried dumplings they feed him, but also he craves revenge upon whoever imprisoned him. The revenge wanted by both Dae-su and his captor, Lee Woo-jin (played by Yoo Ji-tae), consumes both of them into this seemingly never-ending cycle of violence. The first meal Dae-su eats after his imprisonment is a whole raw octopus. He begins eating the octopus by ripping off its head with his teeth, similar to an animal eating its freshly caught prey. This is representative of the predator-prey relationship both Dae-su and Woo-jin have with each other, but both view them as the predator, never as the prey. Both men are seeking revenge on each other, seeing them as the prey to reach their end goal. Dae-su’s end goal is to enact revenge on his captor, Woo-jin, acting as a predator that is actively seeking out its prey. While Woo-jin seeking revenge for his sister, acts more like a predator that is playing with its food, leading Dae-su into the traps that he placed. Dae-su with the help of Mi-do (played by Kang Hye-jung) goes on a search for the fried dumplings he ate throughout his imprisonment. Searching from restaurant to restaurant to help him track down who was behind his imprisonment. This search plays into the constant cat and mouse game throughout the movie with both Dae-su and Woo-jin thinking to themselves as the “cat” chasing after their “mouse.” Both fueled by their rage and want for revenge, the thirst both characters have for revenge will never end until death strikes upon one of them. The saying "revenge is a dish best served cold" perfectly encapsulates the film's exploration of vengeance. The coldness of the dish suggests a calculated approach to seeking retribution, mirroring Dae-su's planning as he seeks to settle the score. Additionally, the cyclical nature of revenge is reflected in the film's portrayal of food. Just as a meal can be consumed and digested, the characters' actions reverberate, perpetuating a cycle of violence. Oldboy (올드보이). Dir. Park Chan-wookPerf. Choi Min-sik, Yoo Ji-tae, Kang Hye-jung. CJ Entertainment, 2003.

Food as a Catalyst by Skyler Tapley Onibaba (1964) is a dark classic with a twist to a Buddhist ideal and Japanese folklore. The story revolves around an old woman and her daughter-in-law — who remain nameless throughout the movie — trying to survive in a war torn Japan in the Edo period. While food is not a major theme in the movie, it is an underlying presence that creates the catalyst for many of the major events. The two women survive by killing samurai that stray into their mazelike world of tall reeds. This landscape plays a very important part in the film by evoking the fear of a world that does not have any horizon or any sense to it, it is all an endless rustling of the unknown. This landscape allows for the women to kill samurai easily by tricking them, sneaking up on them, or leading them into a dark pit. They do this to take their armor and weapons to sell to Ushi, who in exchange gives them millet, sake, and meat. This is the only way the two women survive in this world. Their life begins to get more complicated when Hachi returns. He is a neighbor of theirs’ that went off to the war with Kichi, the son and husband of the two women. When they learn that Kichi has been killed it creates a rift between them. Hachi creates a lustful dynamic between the three of them. This lustfulness that is created represents appetites of the characters. Similar to how they crave food and focus their current lifestyle on finding food, they have natural cravings for this lust as well. The movie focuses on these human appetites. Kichi’s wife begins to lust for Hachi, while her mother-in-law tries to stop her. The mother-in-law herself is overcome with lust and appetite for sinful desires though and tries to get Hachi to sleep with her. When he declines, she begins telling her daughter-in-law stories of punishment and hell for these sinful actions. As the daughter-in-law starts to believe these stories of demons, a samurai with a demon mask shows up and makes the old woman escort him out of the reeds. She complies, before tricking him into falling down the dark pit. He had claimed to be the most handsome man in Kyoto, and she wanted to see his face, so she climbed down the pit and removed his mask, with some struggle. It is revealed that his face has scars on it and is not as handsome as he had claimed. This is an important moment because it is another instance of the old woman’s hypocrisy. She claims that being sinful and lustful is bad, but she has those same feelings, coupled with the jealousy that she has of her daughter-in-law. She puts the mask on and scares her daughter in law into going back instead of seeing Hachi for two nights straight. On the third night there is a torrential downpour and the mask ends up getting stuck. Once her daughter-in-law realizes it is her and agrees to pull the mask off she ends up having to smash the mask on her face before it finally breaks apart and can be removed. Upon removing the mask, it is revealed that the old woman has become disfigured much worse than the man who wore it before her. The daughter-in-law is terrified and runs away as the movie ends with the old disfigured woman chasing her telling her she is human. While this movie has much stronger themes, food is still a significant catalyst and human appetite. Without food being part of the film most of the actions in the film would not have existed. The only reason the women were killing the samurai was to get items to trade for food. If it was not for this trade flow that they had with Ushi, the old woman would not have been able to pose as the demon — since she always claimed to go to Ushi’s when the younger woman would try to go to see Hachi and run into the demon. Without these aspects of food in the film they would not have occurred. Even at the end of the film Hachi is killed by a stranger eating in his hut. The majority of the most important moments of the film are followed or preceded by eating. They eat messily after killing the samurai at the start of the film. They are eating when Hachi returns. The scene right before the climax with the old woman being stuck in the mask is preceded by the random man eating and killing Hachi. The film has a powerful component of food as a catalyst. In this world food is always in the back of everyone’s mind. Without the underlying feeling of food as a scarce and valuable resource, the most important events would not have occurred in the movie. Work Cited Onibaba. Dir. Kaneto Shindo. Toho, 1964.

Parasite: A Perversion of Hospitality by Alexis Dumain Bong Joon-ho’s 2019 Korean thriller Parasite (2019) is as much a commentary on interclass dynamics as it is on disintegrating humanity. In its perversion of hospitality and consumption, it repels and disturbs the viewer, asking — or rather, coercing — them to reflect on just what exactly has gone so horribly wrong. Is it the way the Kim family manipulates the wealthy Parks in order to ensure their own survival? Or, is it the pervasive dehumanization of the ‘other,’ done by all parties? Or, is it the very fact the characters were able and drawn to do so in the first place? Even the concept of a ‘parasite’ suggests a deterioration of the ideals of the host-guest relationship; for a parasite, there is no reciprocity of the graciousness, and even divine welcoming, initiated by the host. Though in this film, Joon-ho examines the base animal impulses that lurk within us, we are reminded of just how unique the human condition is by how appalling we find the unprovoked harm incurred on the hosts. No other animal deliberately defies their instinct to discriminate against the stranger and exclude in so ritual a manner. That those who made themselves vulnerable and performed one of the most essentially-human acts was taken advantage of offends a collective notion of our exceptionalism. Yet, as Parasite explores, who is the actual parasite, and by extension, on whose behalf should we be offended? The line between predator and prey, parasite and unwitting host, becomes increasingly blurred. And, as Mr. Park ominously reminds us, the only rule is to never cross the line.

The Sinister Role of Food in Parasite by Olivia Stoll The Park family lives in a luxurious house in Seoul with a lush backyard and custom architecture. They enjoy meals prepared by their live-in housekeeper and exclusively drink bottled VOSS water. Across the city, the Kim family resides in a semi-basement. Through a small window below the ceiling, we can see that the apartment is almost entirely below street level. The Kim family folds empty pizza boxes for extra cash, eats around moldy bits of bread, and drinks cheap “FiLite” beer. When the son, Ki-woo (Choi Woo-shik), lands a job tutoring for the Park family’s daughter, the rest of the Kim family cons their way into employment under the Park family. Bong Joon-ho’s Parasite is not a particularly appetizing film, but food plays a critical role. Food is a representation of the class divides that persist throughout the story. Peach fuzz, meat kebabs, birthday cake, and coffee are among the foods wielded by the characters of Parasite to drive their tasteful class war. The most thematically significant dish in the film is also the only dish prepared onscreen: Ram-don with steak. Mrs. Park requests this peculiar meal as she (and the rest of the Park family) returns home early from a trip. The catch: the Kim family has been lounging in the empty Park house, not expecting them home so early. On top of that, the old housekeeper (who has been hiding her husband in the Park’s secret basement) discovers the Kim family’s con and threatens to expose them. Now, Mrs. Kim has to prioritize making a noodle dish for Da-song while her entire family’s livelihood is at stake. “If you boil the water now, the timing will be perfect.” (1:16:09) The editing in this sequence parallels food and people, cross-cutting between Mrs. Kim handling steak and the other characters violently fighting. The effect of this editing also juxtaposes the concurrent conflicts, highlighting class struggle. The old housekeeper and the Kim family are fighting for their lives, and yet Mrs. Kim must focus on preparing dinner because Mrs. Park casually demands it. The ingredients of Mrs. Park’s request are very intentional. Ram-don is a hybrid of Ramen and Udon noodles, which are notoriously inexpensive foods often associated with people on a tight budget. However, Mrs. Park says “There’s sirloin in the fridge, add that too.” (1:16:15) The Korean translation suggests Mrs. Park is actually naming a more expensive cut of meat than sirloin, but the effect is similar either way. The contrast between cheap and expensive ingredients directly parallels the cross-cutting in the scene and the Kim/Park family dichotomy as a whole. Much like this scene, food is a sinister tool throughout the film. The Kims use peaches as a weapon to destroy the old housekeeper’s career. Her husband is killed with a meat kebab, which frames him as another chunk of meat on the skewer. Mr. Park uses a cup of coffee to test Mr. Kim’s driving abilities rather than drinking it, reinforcing his superior status. There is so much food in this film, but it is rarely enjoyed. In Parasite, food is foremost a weapon that represents class struggles. Parasite. Dir. Bong Joon-ho. HBO Max, 2019. Streaming.

The Comfort of Food by Andrea Brucculeri Passengers (2016) shoots its audience into outer space to witness the psychological breakdown of protagonist Jim Preston as he struggles to find comfort on a lonely spaceship. As the only human awake on the ship, he finds his greatest support and entertainment from an artificial intelligence “bar tender” robot and therefore Jim spends a significant amount of time at the bar. When fellow human Aurora Lane enters the story, the bar continues to be the setting of every important or emotional conversation, with the only exception being scenes in the ship’s restaurant. Settings of eating and drinking become a clear centerpiece of comfort, emotion, and humanity for the passengers. When Jim is alone, he sits day after day at the bar with Arthur, the bartender robot. The alcohol helps him bond with the machine, and strengthens their relationship to a point that almost mimics a true human friendship. The bar is also a place of building trust. Jim tells Arthur his most personal and dangerous thoughts, which include “waking up” another passenger, which would effectively be taking a passenger’s life. Usually Jim is sipping whiskey, which is the drink Arthur suggested for him the first day they met. This suggests that Jim even believes that Arthur knows what is best for him to drink, and solidifies the trust between them as Arthur makes his drinks and gives him advice day after day. Once Aurora is awake, a second setting is introduced— the fanciest restaurant on the ship. This is where the two go on their first date and quickly becomes a symbol of their love. They share intimate information over food, like the story of Aurora’s dad dying. They also cerebrate Aurora’s birthday with cake at this restaurant, and it’s one of the most joyful scenes of the whole film. Aurora also shares her “gold member” meals with Jim, which provides him with much higher quality food and nourishment. One morning they even swipe the gold member food aside and have sex on the breakfast table. With this, Aurora is feeding Jim in multiple ways— with her food, companionship, and body. The screen capture provided is from 26:22 and is Jim eating breakfast next to the pod of still-sleeping Aurora. This is significant because when Jim is obsessing over Aurora and deciding whether or not to wake her up, he doesn’t just sit by her pod all day. He specifically sits near her pod at breakfast. He wants to share a meal with her, not just time. The light in the image heavily hits Jim’s face and chest and Aurora’s pod, signally the three most important things in this moment — Aurora, Jim, and his heart or love for her. After those things, the most important and well-lit parts of the image are the food in Jim’s hands. Because he cares about her, he wants to share his food with her. Because he has food, he has something meaningful to share with her. This moment of Jim’s eating breakfast with sleeping Aurora is the beginning of a life of sharing love, space, and food together. While the two never get to the planet that their life is spent traveling to, they find a world of emotion and meaning through each other, letting the food and bar on the ship anchor them to their humanity even in the most painful of moments. The food remains an important reminder of their humanity, their home planet, and the way that they take care of each other.

Poisonous Meals and Toxic Relationships by Genna Holtz In Phantom Thread (2017), it’s 1954 London, England, and siblings Reynolds and Cyril Woodcock run the most prestigious fashion house in the UK. Driven by a psychotic perfectionism, Reynolds delivers dresses exclusively for the best of the best, royalty, socialites, duchesses, and fabulously wealthy of Europe. While the House of Woodcock runs like a well-oiled machine, its success each day is contingent upon the little things, such as tranquility of breakfast. Alma, a waitress Reynolds meets in the country by happenstance, disrupts Woodcock’s reality, questioning his juvenility, aggression, and cold-heartedness. As she turns from muse to lover, their volatile relationship becomes emotionally and verbally abusive. To salvage their life together, Alma utilizes poisonous mushrooms to weaken her husband physically and mentally, to make him recognize the fragility of life itself, and redistribute the balance of power in their relationship. The director, Paul Anderson, shows in his masterfully crafted film that food is love, and when prepared properly, strengthens body and soul. Anderson helps establish Reynolds’s character with the large meal he orders the first time the audience is introduced to him. Woodcock’s insatiable appetite mirrors his voracious hunger for domination in the fashion industry. In the first interaction between Alma and Reynolds, he demands of her a welsh rabbit, eggs (not too runny), bacon, scones, mustard, jam (not strawberry), tea, and sausages. For this order, Alma dubs him the “hungry boy”, a name which foreshadows how much he will demand of her in their relationship as well as the common childish behavior Reynolds exhibits (Anderson, 2017). Some of the tensest moments of the film occur at breakfast. The delicate politics of the meal that Alma must discover by trial and error demonstrate Woodcock’s utterly ridiculous and at times asinine particularity. Reynolds claims that he “cannot start the morning with confrontation” and thus everything about the meal must be perfect. Too much movement and too much noise is entirely prohibited at the table. The first time Alma tries to eat in the morning with Reynolds and Cyril, she is brutally chastised for expansively reaching for the tea and for scraping her knife across her toast loudly. The meager food, tea and toast, are as anemic as the conversation at the table and the relationship between the lovers. When Alma calls Reynolds a “spoiled little baby” for having such demands, Cyril explains that “if breakfast isn’t right, it’s very hard for [Reynolds] to recover the rest of the day” (Anderson, 2017). By contrast, later on in the film when the relationship between Reynolds and Alma is in a healthy place, the food is heartier. Reynolds remarks that he is “delighted to have cream with porridge – it’s essential…a little naughty though” (Anderson, 2017). Alma is like the cream in his life, an unusual addition to his fastidious routine that ultimately adds to his happiness. By breaking the precarity of breakfast, Alma breaks through to the softer, scared Woodcock that lies below his intimidating exterior. Through Phantom Thread, the director posits that food is love, and love is food. Both essentials to life can take many forms, timing is important to each, and there are preferences involved. One of the ways that this is demonstrated is that Alma tries, in her own love language, to love Reynolds by cooking an intimate dinner for the two of them, telling Cyril, “I am trying to love him the way I want to” (Anderson, 2017). He does not reciprocate in the same way and indicates this by adding a ton of salt to the asparagus she has prepared, using his hands to eat in an undignified way, and refusing to make eye contact at the table. He is a complete bully, a child who is so selfish that he doesn’t have the decency or interpersonal intelligence to recognize Alma’s efforts. Upon Reynolds’s rude reaction, Alma criticizes Reynolds by saying that nothing about his lifestyle is “normal or natural, everything is a game, I don’t eat this, I don’t drink that” (Anderson, 2017). By framing the restrictions Reynolds places on her life through the lens of food, audiences better grasp the use of food as a communication device in the film. When the tensions that have built over breakfasts and Alma’s dinner reach their peak, Alma chooses to poison Reynolds. She laces the tea Reynolds drinks at breakfast with mushrooms because she knows that if he realizes his timeline isn’t endless, he will appreciate her. After days of terrible sickness and relying on Alma entirely, Reynolds realizes exactly what Alma wished, and he proposes marriage to her. In his proposal he says, “A house that doesn’t change is a dead house” to show the intrinsic link between Reynolds the man and Woodcock the artist. By reinventing Reynolds when she sees their relationship becoming stale by pushing him to the edge of death, Alma saves the house of Woodcock from dying. Alma and Reynolds’s first breakfast as husband and wife is a breath of fresh air – she is messy and makes lots of noise, but he gets through it without a harsh word. But by the time they get go to a big dinner at a fancy Christmas celebration months later, there is again emotional distance between them (indicated physically by the fact that they sit far away from each other at the table). Scenes in which their relationship is happy and stable have warm, natural lighting, pastel colors, and vibrant tones. But by contrast, the more Reynolds abuses Alma, the more dimly lit and dark scenes become. The frames are also tighter to show that Alma feels constricted by her lover’s tight grasp on the quotidian activities of her life. Alma is desperate to find her place in his home and often compares this effort to a game. When, at the height of one of their disagreements, they play an actual board game, he accuses her of cheating and she responds, “I’m not cheating, I don’t need to cheat” (Anderson, 2017). The irony in this situation lies in the fact that in order to win or make fair the “game” of their life together, Alma must “cheat” by using mushrooms to tame the egos that torment her husband. At the height of their second major fight, instead of putting a little bit of crushed up mushroom in his tea, Alma puts a whole mushroom into an omelet for Reynolds, and prepares it directly in front of him. There is nothing clandestine about her procedure like the last time, and the interaction is almost erotic. After intense eye contact in consecutive point of view shots, Reynolds inhales his first bite and Alma says, “I want you flat on your back, helpless, open tender, with only me to help, and then I want you strong again, you’re not going to die, you might wish you were going to die but you’re not, you need to settle down a little” (Anderson, 2017). Instead of the uncontrolled rampage the audience half expects, Reynolds breaks into a grin and exclaims, “Kiss me my girl, before I’m sick” (Anderson, 2017). This withdrawal of control is monumental for their relationship and indicates that an equilibrium of power has finally been achieved. Paradoxically, Alma uses unhealthful food to make Reynolds well again. She accepts this role because she understands that Reynolds would “always be waiting for [her], it would only require [her] patience” (Anderson, 2017). In the last dialogue of the film, Reynolds whispers to Alma, “Right now we’re here, and I’m getting hungry” (Anderson, 2017). This indicates that there has finally been a redistribution of power that they can both accept. He knows full well and embraces Alma’s use of poison to slow him down when he needs to be slowed. Alma uses food to sustain her relationship with Reynolds and to balance love and hate. By weakening her husband and committing him to her care, she temporarily subdues the inter-racial, intercultural, gender dichotomies in their marriage. Poisonous mushrooms provide a temporary relief to the malaise in their relationship and ultimately allow both parties to fulfill their duties to the best of their ability. Work Cited Anderson, Paul Thomas, director. Phantom Thread. Focus Features, 2017.

Mix and Mash: A Fresh Take on Thanksgiving by Jennifer Na Pieces of April (2003) follows the familiar narrative of a dysfunctional family at Thanksgiving but Director Peter Hedges is able to capture the essence of nostalgia and wistfulness through its refreshingly humble presentation. Filmed over the course of 16 days with a $100,000 budget, the film looks like a home movie by an aspiring arts school student, an effect that works to the film’s advantage to present an honest depiction of “white girl problems” which resonate through the characters’ interactions. The organic footage, seemingly unedited and unfinished, encapsulates the April and her family’s emotions as she endeavors to cook a Thanksgiving dinner for the first time in a dilapidated apartment complex: frustration, discovery, disappointment, and ultimately reconciliation. Pieces of April follows the angst of the 21-year old cherry tattooed protagonist as she attempts to impress her dying mother, ironically named Joy, and estranged family with a traditional Thanksgiving dinner. Unfortunately her oven breaks and her boyfriend, Bobby, is missing so she asks her diverse and eccentric neighbors for help. The neighbors provide their unique culinary knowledge and teach April lessons about cooking, reconciliation, and living a meaningful life. The home movie cinematography makes the film more genuine, and the simple production and modest evokes sincerity. Peter Hedges uses shaky hand-held camera work to emphasize April’s inexperience as a cook and develop the mise en scène. Rising starlet Katie Holmes as April wears alternative hand adornments, dyed pigtails, and a tattered tank top, additions that are similarly reflected in the ill fitting wardrobe for the other characters. The realistic depiction of the dirty and dingy apartment with miscellaneous trash, mysterious stains in the sink and empty refrigerator, including an unboxed pizza and canned cranberry sauce, reveals April’s immature lifestyle and reaffirms her family’s disdain for her. However as she gains advice from neighbors and help from her boyfriend, Bobby, she transforms her apartment to a welcoming home decorated with handwritten name cards, autumnal colored streamers, and turkey salt and pepper shakers she had as a child (Figure 4). Diegetic and non-diegetic sound is incorporated into the cinematography to accentuate the atmospheres the characters interact in. In April’s failed attempt to mash raw potatoes the sounds include rough chopping, clanging utensils, and frantically slamming the potato masher against solid chunks of potatoes and the glass bowl (Figure 1). The scene immediately transitions with guitar strumming over Bobby’s whirring scooter engine as he traverses through New York City. Silence follows at Evette’s crowded kitchen with a medium shot of the stationary April while her neighbors cook an elaborate dinner with “sautéed red swiss chard with garlic” and other homemade dishes, a sharp contrast to April’s boxed stuffing and canned cranberry sauce. The camera unsteadily pans from close-ups of facial expressions through point-of-view shots to Eugene’s hands as he masterfully cooks. Despite the low quality imaging the food still looks vibrant and tasty, partially because of the nostalgia the homemade cooking evokes. April’s counter is cluttered with empty takeout containers and miscellaneous trash as well as a chunky mayonnaise-laden Waldorf salad (Figure 2). Eugene’s counter is also covered, but with fresh vegetables and other quality ingredients neatly partitioned, showing the experience and care he has as a cook despite his underappreciated role as an African-American male in low-income housing (Figure 3). In the Chinese neighbor’s apartment diegetic, traditional Chinese music plays from the television that displays silk ribbon dancing as the extended family confusedly stares at April while she tries to explain Thanksgiving. The viewer is able to feel the same confusion because there are no English subtitles while Chinese is spoken; despite the language barrier April genuinely tries to be polite and communicate respectfully. The Chinese family molds a turkey leg out of carved dough after an unfriendly neighbor steals it and joins April’s family at the dinner table, which proves the ability of food to transcend barriers and cross-culturally connect. The culminating dinner scene in the crowded apartment feels warm and familial despite the strangers gathering. Candid moments are shared as April hugs her disapproving sister, dishes are passed, and a family photo is taken with a self-timer. Camera shutters are used to transition between shots of the gathering, capturing happy moments for Joy to collect during this timely reconciliation. The Burns family finally experiences a mutual moment of enjoyment in this reprieve from their deteriorating relations. Although April’s cooking does not improve she is able to serve a gratifying meal and transform her isolated life into a community. Peter Hedges’ unconventional film encompasses the sentimentality that is all too often contrived, with food as a medium to convey individuality and connectivity in this fresh take on a two centuries-old holiday. Works Cited Hedges, Peter, director. Pieces of April. United Artists, 2003. “Pieces of April (2003).” IMDb. IMDb.com, n.d. Web. 31 Mar. 2017.

Desire and Servitude in Portrait of a Lady on Fire by Maggie Dunn Céline Sciamma’s 2019 film Portrait of a Lady on Fire is a queer and feminist classic in the making which relies on food as something that both brings characters together and ultimately threatens to tear them apart. Whilst living on the French seaside in the eighteenth century, three women tend to and care for one another, often through cooking. Marianne, an artist, has been commissioned by Héloïse’s family to paint her portrait. They are accompanied by maid and friend Sophie. Painter and subject enjoy a romantic relationship, preparing potatoes, herbs, wine, and soup as a means of sharing in one another's love. Despite having Sophie as their maid, Héloïse and Marianne opt to cook for one another and, at times, even serve Sophie the food they have prepared. This subversion of roles and content in servitude show the deep love the two richer women share for both one another and their friend of a lower class. Directly following this scene, the women read a story by candlelight: that of Orpheus and Eurydice, a classic myth following a man who gives into temptation in order to love his wife. Sophie, Héloïse, and Marianne discuss the ethics of this myth, and Sciamma draws a parallel between these famed lovers and love affair within the film. It should come as no surprise that this scene directly follows feasting. After all, Héloïse and Marianne give into desire by loving and cooking for one another, placing them both at risk of societal outcast due to the time period. The film ends as Héloïse’s final portrait is shown, in which she holds the book of myths. While Héloïse and Marianne must marry men due to social expectation, the two never stopped loving one another. Portrait of a Lady on Fire. Dir. Céline Sciamma. Lilies Films, 2019.