Menus-Plaisirs: Les Troisgros (2023, Frederick Wiseman) (Patreon)

65/100

Mesmerizing whenever we're watching meals prepared (even though my sorry junk-loving palate craves virtually none of these dishes), and that constitutes a good two of the film's four hours. As with The Taste of Things, however, my interest waned whenever the camera exited the kitchen. Michel and his sons discussing menu ingredients at the outset, for something like 10–12 minutes of real time, nearly bored me into a coma; by movie’s end, it's clear that we're meant to be taking note of father-son dynamics, rather than focusing on the substance of a disagreement about whether white asparagus should or shouldn't feature a white-almond pureé, but Wiseman never quite teases that element to the forefront. (Withholding exposition about the Troisgros' history, and the distinct role that each of them plays, until late in hour four is an amazing flex—especially given how succinctly Michel eventually lays it out, speaking to one table, in footage that could easily have been placed up front—but I think it works against Wiseman's apparent intention. Though, to be fair, Les Troisgros is right in the title.) Excursions to the restaurant's various suppliers are less stultifying, though I was significantly more alert while learning cheese-ripening facts than I was checking out tomato crops or visiting a goat farm. Watching the actual prep work and the cooking and even the service, by contrast, is pure magic, in large part because Wiseman (who edited the film himself, as usual) affords every aspect of every dish exactly the right amount of concentrated screen time. The visual stimulation never ends and continually expands. And while there are few "characters" here not named Troisgros, you can tell who's relatively new on the job and who's dedicated a lifetime to haute cuisine just by the confidence or lack thereof in their movements. Cinephiles tend to fetishize depictions of labor—cooking in particular—as much as they fetishize all manner of onscreen dancing (which makes me suspicious of raves about both; see also Lovers Rock), but Menus-Plaisirs, when it's really cookin' yuk yuk, truly does provide a window onto highly skilled craftsmanship that's consistently engrossing for its own sake. The film's second hour (roughly) covers what I believe is a single lunch shift, and the time positively flew by. Then things came to what seemed like a natural conclusion (conveniently at a normal movie length) and just sort of started over, at which point Menus did begin to feel, please forgive me, overcooked. Still, while most of Wiseman's recent films have seemed to me needlessly epic (an indulgence he's certainly earned), this one's highs rank among his finest purely observational work.