The Menu

⭐⭐⭐⭐

Having worked for years as a server in both mid-range and high-end restaurants, I approached The Menu with a mix of curiosity and scepticism. Fine dining, after all, has always struck me as equal parts artistry and performance, often teetering dangerously close to absurdity. What this film achieves so brilliantly is capturing that very tension—the ritual of serving not just food, but an experience, to guests who arrive with equal parts entitlement and expectation.

The concept is razor-sharp: a secluded island dinner that spirals into psychological warfare, each course peeling back layers of both chef and diners. It satirises the exclusivity of haute cuisine while also exposing the arrogance of those who can afford it. As someone who’s catered to “foodie” elites dissecting a plate as if it were scripture, I felt an uncomfortable familiarity in the film’s premise.

Execution-wise, it is impeccable. Mark Mylod’s direction balances the darkly comedic with the menacing, never allowing the audience to settle. The cinematography is lush, capturing every plated dish with the reverence of a Michelin-starred promo video, yet framing the sterile perfection as something sinister. The visuals mirror the service industry itself—polished on the surface, brutal behind the scenes.

The acting is uniformly excellent. Ralph Fiennes commands the screen as Chef Slowik, blending control, bitterness, and tragic devotion to his craft. Anya Taylor-Joy is magnetic as the outsider, offering a perspective many service workers will recognise: someone unimpressed by prestige, simply hungry for a real human connection.

What impressed me most was the storyline’s balance of satire and suspense. The Menu skewers the culture of exclusivity in fine dining, while asking a deeper question: when does devotion to art stop nourishing and start consuming? For anyone who’s ever worked a double shift while watching guests chase status on a plate, this film hits uncomfortably close to home—served with precision, and just the right bite.