The Cook, The Thief, His Wife and Her Lover: Food, Body and Sex against power

 

Peter Greenaway's masterpiece 

Mousumi Bilkis

                                                                               

                                                                       

"The Cook, The Thief, His Wife, and Her Lover" is a film that never fails to amaze me with its stunning beauty of cinematic language, even though it can be unpleasant to endure the horrifying presence of Albert Spica (Michael Gambon), ‘the Thief,’ who represents the darker feature of human nature and serves as a central figure in the exploration of power, control, and greed in the narrative.

On the other hand, his wife Georgina (Helen Mirren) serves as a stark contrast to him. She is composed, calm, and polite, a melancholic beauty who remains suppressed and endures mental and physical abuse from Albert, even in front of customers and the staff at a posh restaurant called La Hollandaise. 

Nothing can restrain Albert; he relentlessly abuses restaurant employees and even the guests. He physically assaults guests, hurls food on them, wields forks and food as weapons, mistreats his wife, and can't stand anyone reading in the dining hall. 

Albert consistently squanders food and ingredients to assert his dictatorship and instill fear in those around him. This brings to mind a documentary, 'Sikkim,' by Satyajit Ray, where he makes a statement about the stark difference in food access between the poor and the rich. In his film 'Pather Panchali' (The Song of the Road), a sweet seller heads towards a wealthy man's house, followed by Apu and Durga, two children who long for sweets but lack the money to buy them. They wait in hope of an offer from the affluent family members who can afford anything they desire. Just as society often treats stray dogs, these two children, Apu and Durga, experience similar treatment from the wealthy. 

In the film "Dodes'ka-den" by Akira Kurosawa, a destitute boy collects leftover scraps from a restaurant. The restaurant's chef kindly provides him with food, contrasting sharply with the behavior of a wealthy woman who callously places cigarette butts atop a plate of discarded leftovers, reminiscent of Albert's wastefulness. 

Our dietary choices often reflect and reinforce societal power structures. Critiques of food inequality can be found in various forms of artistic expression, including art, literature, and cinema. In this particular movie, we witness a visual portrayal of food presented artistically, yet when Albert clumsily mishandles the dishes and ingredients, it transforms into an unsightly mess.

                                                                     

 

Albert considers himself an artist and has a unique perspective on food. He states, “What you've got to realize is that the clever cook puts unlikely things together, like duck and orange, like pineapple and ham. It's called 'artistry'. You know, I am an artist the way I combine my business and my pleasure; Money's my business, eating's my pleasure and Georgie's my pleasure, too, though in a more private kind of way than stuffing the mouth and feeding the sewers, though the pleasures are related because the naughty bits and the dirty bits are so close together that it just goes to show how eating and sex are related.” 

But his words, his costume, his behavior reflects his opulent but tasteless nature. He is so arrogant that he doesn't tolerate anything he dislikes. He conveys this to Michael, a guest who enjoys reading a book during dinner, “What are you doing? Reading again? This is a restaurant, not a library. The only thing you’re allowed to read in here is the menu. You are insulting the chef. Reading gives you indigestion. Didn’t you know that?” 

When we delve into history, we discover that dictators have consistently opposed knowledge. They have burned books and libraries, shuttered institutions and schools, all while constructing their own theory-driven knowledge framework, which has been detrimental to humanity.

We can recall Nazi Germany as a glaring example; they orchestrated a massive book-burning event in a single day, which included works by Jewish authors such as Albert Einstein and Sigmund Freud. They also destroyed books by American authors like Ernest Hemingway and Helen Keller. Nazi Minister Joseph Goebbels delivered a speech in which he stated, "The era of extreme Jewish intellectualism is now at an end. ... The future German man will not just be a man of books, but a man of character. It is to this end that we want to educate you.” 

In this context, we can draw parallels with the novel 'The Book Thief' by Australian author Markus Zusak. In the story, a young girl named Liesel Meminger clandestinely acquires books that politicians seek to destroy in Nazi Germany during World War II.

In my own country, there have been instances where crucial periods of Indian history and significant chapters of science have been omitted from textbooks, and this erasure continues to this day.

More recently, in Afghanistan, the Taliban closed schools and halted women's education, marking a setback for education and knowledge dissemination.

Additionally, we can harken back to history where the world's finest library of its time, the Library of Alexandria, was destroyed in a fire, suspected to have been set by Julius Caesar's soldiers, although the intention behind this act remains a subject of debate.                                                                            

The primary setting of this film is a restaurant, yet its narrative carries the characteristics of a dictatorial state. Albert, embodying the role of a dictator, displays disdain for books and subjects vulnerable individuals to torture.

However, his wife Georgina rebels against this oppressive environment. She employs her body as a means of seeking freedom, notably forging a connection with a man who has a keen interest in the French Revolution, who says, "We live in a dark and romantic and quite tragic world." 

This lover, Michael (Alan Howard), is the sole individual capable of losing himself in a book on the French Revolution during dinner. Georgina manages to slip away with him without the need for verbal introductions. Words prove unnecessary between them as they engage in passionate encounters in the lavatory, the grocery room, and even inside a garbage van filled with decomposing meat. This could symbolize an escape from Albert's tyrannical rule, suggesting that love is the sole path out of the morass of corrupt human values. 

Naked bodies, particularly those of women, have been wielded as a form of resistance in various contexts. In the Indian state of Manipur, mothers, many of whom were elderly, staged a protest by disrobing to protest against the Armed Forces Special Powers Act (AFSPA) of 1958. This demonstration followed the gang rape and tragic death of Manorama Thangjam, a 32-year-old woman, at the hands of Assam Rifles army personnel.

Similarly, the feminist protest group Femen has organized topless protests in Ukraine, Paris, Brussels, and other locations, addressing issues such as rape in war-torn Ukraine and opposing Muslim Sharia law in a Swedish mosque. During the most recent Cannes Film Festival, a woman also staged a similar protest on the red carpet.

Historically, women have employed tactics like the "sex strike" on multiple occasions, dating back to ancient times. One notable instance is found in the Greek play "Lysistrata," written by Aristophanes in 411 B.C., where women use a sex strike as a means of achieving peace and their desired political outcomes. In this film, Georgina also communicates a form of 'sex strike' to Albert through her gestures.  

Indeed, the novels "Madame Bovary" by Gustave Flaubert and "Lady Chatterley's Lover" by D. H. Lawrence depict the journeys of their respective protagonists, Emma and Connie, in search of personal fulfillment and integrity, often unknowingly challenging the societal norms and systems of their time. 

In the Hebrew Bible (Book of Genesis) and the Quran (Surah Yusuf), Zulaikha is an unforgettable character. Her intense sexual desire and love for Joseph or Yusuf have inspired narrative poetry in many languages, including my native Bengali, also inspired paintings and songs.

Our beloved Goddess Radha also shares a similar desire for God Krishna has been celebrated in literature, music, and art for centuries. Radha and Zulaikha commemorate their sexual desires and emotional needs through extramarital affairs, both Zulaikha and Radha represent the idea that love, desire, and spirituality can intersect in powerful ways, often challenging established systems and norms.

 

In this film, Georgina wields her body as a weapon, but she's acutely aware of the battle she's engaged in. Unlike Zulaikha or Radha, she doesn't harbor a spiritual yearning. When she finds herself in the lavatory with Michael, her trembling hand, holding a lit cigarette, depicts her fear. However, she persists in the affair because she has initiated a rebellion and cannot abandon it half-finished. So, when Albert says, "I own you. You are my property!" Georgina announces, "I am no longer yours." 

Meanwhile, the cook, Richard Boarst (Richard Bohringer), is also aligned against the erosion of human values. He, along with his fellow workers, stands in solidarity with Georgina and Michael. It's as if a seed of revolt against Albert is quietly germinating, subtly suggesting the possibility of change.

Returning to the first line, I find it impossible to overlook any scene in this film. Each and every moment is a masterpiece in itself. The film itself embodies the characteristics of Baroque art with its distinctive lighting, carefully designed color tonalities that evolve with the changing settings, and its extensive and intricate use of set properties. Notably, food and its ingredients play a dominant role in the film's composition, serving as both a visual and thematic centerpiece.

One cannot help but notice the use of 'live still-life.' For instance, as the camera moves toward the dining table where Albert, Georgina, and others are enjoying their supper, it passes by a grand table adorned with a meticulously prepared gigantic dish, even featuring a fully roasted duck taking center stage in the foreground. The supper table itself is replete with an array of food dishes and exquisite crockery. 

As we venture into the kitchen, we encounter a multitude of kitchen ingredients, and the same opulent abundance awaits us in the storeroom, where the couple engages in their affair. The excess of objects and elements is ubiquitous throughout the restaurant, akin to an exhibition of consumer products. 

The film's distinctive use of color is truly remarkable, with each set dominated by a specific hue: the dining hall bathed in a deep blood red, the lavatory adorned with pristine white accented by pink patches of light, and the kitchen enveloped in lush green tones. Even the costumes undergo a chromatic transformation in sync with the changing locations.

The film's treatment as a theatrical play is striking. It opens with a curtain raising at the beginning and closes with one at the end, firmly establishing a theatrical atmosphere. Furthermore, the performances by the actors are not naturalistic; instead, they are synthetic, well-choreographed, and stylized, reminiscent of the dramatic flair seen in Shakespearean plays. The camera often remains fixed along a single axis, akin to a theater audience observing a play from their seats. Yet, amidst this theatricality, there are also moments of breathtaking mise-en-scènes, flawlessly executed. Cinematographer Sacha Vierny has crafted a mesmerizing visual journey.

The costumes in the film are predominantly period-specific, particularly those worn by characters like Georgina, Albert, and some of his gang members. These costumes evoke characters from centuries past, contributing to a sense of deviation, non-spontaneity, and overall discomfort in the atmosphere. But the transition from drab and submissive attire to more elegant and sensual clothing as Georgina begins her secret affair signifies her liberation. Costume designer Jean-Paul Gaultier added an additional layer to the narrative.  

A striking feature of this film is its minimal use of dialogue. This forces the audience to rely on their visual senses, compelling them to immerse themselves fully in the cinematic experience. It prevents the film from being treated merely as a radio drama and adds an extra dimension to this cinematic masterpiece. Frequently, the dialogue contains a foreshadowing element for the future narrative. At times, it employs unrefined language and phrases, simultaneously carrying a symbolic layer of meaning.

https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=_FeJFs6LJjU&list=RDAMVM_FeJFs6LJjU (L'inverno) 

The film's music, inspired by Baroque style, is particularly evident in the piece 'Memorial.' The initial and fundamental movements of the music bear a resemblance to certain segments of Antonio Vivaldi's 'L'inverno' (The Winter) from 'Le quattro stagioni' (The Four Seasons). Music director Michael Nyman has created a score filled with dramatic elements. It encapsulates conflicts with its starkly different movements, dramatic highs and lows, climaxes, and moments of catastrophe. Through this particular musical composition, you can discern the inner and outer conflicts and characteristics of key characters. The repetitive and minimalist music can indeed be interpreted as a reflection of the monotonous and repetitive nature of life.  

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zDTMa8q_81o (Memorial) 

There is a boy soprano in the film; the boy is compelled to sing under Albert's threat, not as a voluntary act. This soprano becomes a cry of a suppressed soul desperately seeking help, adding a haunting layer to the narrative.

Towards the film's conclusion, we witness a dramatic scene where Georgina, standing over the lifeless body of the murdered Michael, she gunned down Albert, she assumes an authoritative stance, akin to a freedom fighter hero, with restaurant employees surrounding her in a menacing tableau. In his final moments, Albert, who thought himself a ‘God’, reluctantly obeys her command, uttering a solitary 'God!' Unbeknownst to him, in the 19th century, God was declared dead. His story thus reaches its inevitable conclusion.

Georgina's request to the cook to stuff Michael's lifeless body for Albert's dinner marks a chilling turn in the narrative. The cook meticulously decorates the stuffed body and presents it to Albert, instilling terror not only in Albert but also in the viewers, who share in the overwhelming sense of dread. In this macabre twist, food transforms into an instrument of resistance. 

This scene carries the aura of a ritualistic procession, especially as they bring the dish before Albert and unveil the cover over the stuffed body. The low camera angle contributes to creating a 'larger than life' image of Georgina, emphasizing her newfound power and presence in this critical moment.

Noteworthy is the scene in which Albert, under Georgina's command, attempts to consume private body part of Michael; his hand, quivering with fear, clutches the body part on a fork, mirroring the trembling hand of Georgina in the earlier lavatory scene. This symbolic role reversal between the two characters underscores the complexity of their relationship and the transformation they undergo over time.    

Watching this movie evokes associations with other films due to its dark narrative, reminiscent of works such as 'The Great Dictator,' 'A Clockwork Orange,' 'Caligula,' '120 Days of Sodom,' and many more.

However, this film distinguishes itself by blending a breathless pace with its highly artistic nature, carving out a unique place in the annals of cinematic history.

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