User Reviews

Let's say that you're an avid film-goer and you want to test your level of tolerance in terms of the type of bad taste, vile and disgusting screen images you can bear. Certain people would direct you to the zombie/cannibal movies made in Italy in the 1970s and if you took their advice you would indeed find yourself faced with some pretty unpleasant viewing material. However, such films are also very poorly made, with an emphasis on exploitation and somewhat shaky and grainy camera work. For an equally vile and disturbing film, made with considerably more skill and elegance (not to mention aspects of a Jacobean revenge play to please the intelligensia) look no further than The Cook, The Thief, His Wife and Her Lover. This movie is just as outrageous, nauseating and horrific as any Italian cannibal flick, but in a breathtakingly artistic way.

Michael Gambon gives a menacing portrayal as a vulgar gangster with a penchant for rich food. He is a regular customer at an elegant restaurant where he and his cronies, and his unhappy wife, wine and dine while exchanging tales of crime and debauchery. One evening his wife claps eyes on a rather geeky librarian at a nearby table; she fancies him immediately and before you know it the pair are embarking on a torrid sexual affair. Gambon discovers that his wife is having this affair so he has the librarian killed but his wife teams up with a cook from the restaurant to come up with a terrifying revenge plot.

It's impossible to reveal the details of the revenge plot without spoiling the film, but suffice to say that it is unforgettable, revolting and ingenious. Greenaway directs the film in his customary unique visual style, but the narrative is more viewer-friendly than usual in his films, making this one of his more watchable and entertaining offerings. The actors give great performances (brave performances, too, considering the explicit full frontal nudity they are asked to do). The music richly complements the scenes on screen. This film is remarkable on many levels but it's definitely adults-only stuff and even then it's not for all tastes. However, if you want something a little different and you're not afraid to be seriously disturbed, this will do nicely.

One can probably assume from the film 'The Cook, the thief his wife and her lover' that director Peter Greenaway has a rather warped view of humanity; he is nihilistic about society's future, abhorrent of Thatcher's regime and furiously condescending of the entrepreneurial upper classes and their exploitation of the workers. This anger manifests itself in the shocking scenes of violence and depravity contained in the film, which earned the film an X certificate back in 1989 and (surprisingly) resulted in the film reaching a larger audience than anyone anticipated (the film grossed over $7 million in the USA) and proved that there is more weight to the old adage 'no publicity is bad publicity' than one might expect. However it should not be forgotten that the film received almost unanimously euphoric reviews from film critics (or at least from those that didn't flee from the cinema) and is indeed one of the most brilliant, visceral, imaginative and unique pieces of cinema. It's not for all tastes, but those who can stomach it will be rewarded with a slice of delectable cinematic cuisine of the highest order.

The film's central locale is 'Le Hollondais', a restaurant of the most impeccable quality in every aspect. Night after night the restaurant is attended not only by an assortment of wealthy and decadent noveau riche, but also by low-level gangster Albert Spica (Michael Gambon) accompanied by his tormented wife Georgina (Helen Mirren) and a consortium of pimps, hit-men and psychopaths. Each evening Albert treats the dining area of the restaurant like his court, spewing out vile speeches of ignorance and bigotry, making unqualified criticisms of the cuisine and assaulting any of the other diners if they object to his hog-like behaviour. The chef (Richard Bohringer) despises Albert, but presents a façade of obedience and servitude to avoid any maltreatment from Albert and his cronies (much like the other dining guests, who exhibit remarkable patience with the revolting Albert). Georgina seems resigned to marital martyrdom, but also sees the ridiculousness of Albert's arrogance and pomposity (though she rarely contradicts him, he hits her with the exquisitely calligraphic menu when she does). However, one night her eyes meet Michael's (Alan Howard), an intellectual who sits quietly in the corner of the restaurant, delicately eating his meal whilst engrossed in his book, seemingly oblivious to Albert's loud displays of crudeness. Lightning (proverbially) strikes and with little hesitation the two make for the Ladies toilet, where they engage in a passionate tryst in one of the cubicles. And thus the cycle begins; each night Albert continues his rants and consumption of excessive amounts of food, whilst the cook assists Georgina in finding hiding places for her and Michael to make love. However the naturally distrustful Albert soon realises he is a cuckold and orders that lover be killed by having each page of his book thrust down his throat with a sharp spindle. Georgina, however, is able to turn the tables on Albert, which leads to the films shocking denouement where the thief receives his just desserts in a manner best described as poetic justice.

So what is the film about? Is it a darkly humorous political satire on our materialistic times? Is it exploitative pornography coupled with scenes of unnecessary brutality? Or is it simply a story about a cook, a thief his wife and her lover? This is not an easy question to answer; the film's political undercurrents are intentionally enigmatic and vague, Greenaway certainly isn't handing us the answers on a silver platter (in interviews he refuses to talk about his film's subliminal meanings) and we are left to our own devices to discern the films message (if indeed it possesses one). Whilst one could simply accept the film as an updated Jacobean tragedy mingled with the savagery of a Charles Bronson revenge flick, this would rob the film of its allegorical significance, which the film most certainly possesses (in a strangely subversive way). I personally tend towards the argument that 'The Cook the thief his wife and her lover' is Greenaway's manifesto for his disgust at Britain's social hierarchy; the excesses of the wealthy, their subjugation of the workers and their insatiable desire for (as Dickens's Oliver would put it) 'more'.

The quartet of main actors give performances of uninhibited power; they must metaphorically (and in the case of Helen Mirren and Michael Howard, literally) bare all. Each inhabits their character perfectly; the dour, soft spoken Richard, who subversively undermines Albert's authority by assisting Georgina in her sexual caprices, is played with model restraint and calm by Richard Bohringer (although his thick French accent is sometimes hard to comprehend). The part of Lover is less straightforward (he says nothing for the film's first 40 minutes) but Michael Howard acquits himself well to a rather limited role, the real tour de force performances, however, are delivered by Mirren and Gambon. Georgina's transformation from abused wife, to daring lover, to seeker of vengeance is perfectly portrayed by Mirren, she is the film's defiant heroine and earns our sympathies for her desperate plight. As Roger Ebert surmised so aptly 'Gambon plays Albert as the kind of bully you can only look at in wonder, that God does not strike him dead' he is the epitome of excess (gastronomically, egotistically, financially etc.) and lacks any redeeming features, but Gambon also has the talent to give a performance that makes us realise what a pathetic and (surprisingly) vulnerable character he is (though he's still utterly loathsome).

Upon its release many saw the film as a political allegory with the thief representing the tyrannical Thatcher, who subjugates the dutiful workers (the cook) whilst ruining Britannia (the wife). This behaviour is all ineffectually opposed by left wing intellectuals (the lover). Whether or not this is true, indeed whether or not you love or loathe this film, it is a powerful experience that will linger with you for quite some time.

My Score: 9 out of 10

Peter Greenaway brought to the screen this visually striking tale of revenge centered on its four characters and in its 124 minutes he pulls out all the stops to make sure he not only dances over the edge of the cliff, but jumps right over and shows us the belly of the beast.

At a symbolic level, this may very well be the "thinly veiled parable against Thatcherism" that many critics have pointed at, and it's not hard to see. Taking place at a restaurant in which Albert and Georgina Spica (expertly played by Michael Gambon and Helen Mirren) dine day in, day out, always accompanied by Spica's entourage of yes-men (among them a young Tim Roth), Albert indulges in the excesses of food and berates everyone around him, including his mutely suffering wife.

The first scene -- as a matter of fact -- establishes the entire mood of the film. Albert Spica is seen outrageously humiliating a naked man outside the restaurant as the overwhelming stench of decay and the presence of wild dogs linger on. Employees from the restaurant shortly come and hose the man from the excrement he has been slathered in. What it is saying is, we are entering a world of moral and spiritual decay in which Those In Power abuse their positions to the extreme, as the observers only stand by and go on with their business.

These bystanders are the people who work at the restaurant. Among them is the Cook, played by Richard Bohringer, who faithfully serves Spica and his yes-men meal after meal and makes no opinion as they loudly banter about the difference between this dish and that dish -- essentially saying nothing worthwhile --, while all the time Georgina silently eats on, almost like a non-entity. That is, until she notices a quiet, intellectual-looking man, reading a book. This man is Michael, the Lover, played by Alan Howard, a man who does not talk but oozes intelligence. And it's this element which attracts Georgina's eye... and then more.

It's clear where Peter Greenaway is going to take us, the viewer. The scenes involving the urgent, dangerous lovemaking between Michael and Georgina are unspeakably intense, even in later scenes when they meet in the kitchen among the ever-present cooks and are getting more comfortable with themselves. Greenway's Spica becomes so completely menacing his presence overflows the screen. He commits acts of intolerable cruelty against anyone who stands in his way -- he is the Terror during the French Revolution, the Dictator from every country who has had one who will torture those who give of even a slight resistance. And once Georgina's and Michael's clandestine affair is brought to light, needless to say, all hell breaks loose and Greenway sets the stage for his horrific, stomach-turning denouement.

In Georgina, Helen Mirren has created a character that is deeply suffering, infinitely patient... and that makes her the more dangerous. That she has to go through so much pain and humiliation to make a 180 degree turn to cold, ruthless avenger makes her the ultimate heroine. Her foil to Albert -- an essentially one-note role -- also serves his undoing. Alan Howard communicates so much as well in his almost silent role, and in a revelatory note, I'll say this: their nude scene is one that is rife in sensuality and proves that one doesn't need Hollywood hard-bodies to make an erotic scene work.

THE COOK, THE THIEF, HIS WIFE AND HER LOVER is not a movie for all tastes -- pun intended. However, it's one of the most avant-garde, intelligent stories that demands to be seen numerous times. I admire the lavish scenery Greenaway created for each area of the restaurant because it gives this extremely modern film a Renaissance feel and elevates its inherent symbolism. Grotesque but beautiful at the same time, it has a powerful cinematic language that has a style all its own.

If you can't stand the heat, then get out of the kitchen, because director Peter Greenaway's food porn movie is one film that is really hard to digest. It's not for everybody. After all, the film's putrescence, debasement and excesses (sadism, cannibalism, torture, graphic fornication, puke, and rotting fish and meat) and scatological themes (force-feeding of excrement, urination on victims) forced the MPAA (Motion Picture Association of America) to give the film, an "X" rating for theaters, and a NC-17 rating by the time of its video release. An alternative R-rated version was indeed made, but it cut out about 30 minutes of footage. Regardless of what version, you try to watch; all of them, ends the same way, with your head over a brown bag, puking. It's just one of those types of a movie even if the nudity scenes are not that bad. Without spoiling the film, too much, the story also written by Greenaway was inspired by Jacobean revenge tragedies and name after four people that the director originally wanted to work with; it tells the story of a successful criminal, Albert Spica (Michael Gambon) with expensive tastes having just bought a French restaurant, where he holds court nightly drinking the finest wines and abusing staff and customers equally, while his mistreated wife, Georgina (Helen Mirren), secretly has an affair with a bookseller, Michael (Alan Howard). However, things become more troublesome for the secret lovers as Albert find out about their affair, setting off a chain of violent acts over the course of one night dinner party, which the main cook, Richard Boarst (Richard Bohringer) cannot stop. While, this film is not as shocking or offensive as other films like this, such as 1975's 'Salò, or the 120 Days of Sodom' or 2010's 'A Serbian Film'; 1989's 'The Cook, the Thief, His Wife & Her Lover' did do something, besides having shock value. It was also somewhat beautiful metaphoric shot by cinematographer, Sacha Vierny. I love how Peter Greenaway and his crew designed this cruel, over-the-top, truth-telling film as an allegorical criticism of wasteful and barbaric upper-class consuming society in Western civilization (specifically Thatcherism and Reaganism of the 1980s). You do kinda see it, with the way, the cameraman shots people eating beautiful baroque style artwork of food, with their eating habits representing more like pigs feeding at a through, than proper dining etiquette. Its looks rather gross. Even the graphic sex scenes, while somewhat hot, are just as dirty. After all, porking near raw dead animals filmed with unflattering lighting isn't what I call, 'attractive'. Despite that, I love how huge and allegorical, this colorful restaurant is. It is a bizarre place, a mixer of post-modern pipes and medieval-looking cauldrons. Almost like a dream, of some sort. It's portray a sense of luxury and commodity to the point that it can be seen as a symbolism of Frans Hals style art, with the cook representing the artist, the theft as the forger, the wife as the populace and the lover as the intelligent circle. I also love how the kitchen and storage area (deep jungle-green), representing greed & decay, main dining room (hellish red), signifying blood & violence, the adjacent parking lot (dark blue) representing the coldness & death, and the restrooms (white) representing neutrality, and exactitude. It made a wonderful centerpiece for a Technicolor stage play with the costumes by Jean-Paul Gaultier changing colors like a mood ring. You really do see the characters, reaction differently, with each location. The acting throughout this, is amazing, even if some of them, like Michael Gambon was a bit, hammy and Richard Bohringer, a bit limiting. They all have a part to play, here. While, some scenes in this movie can seem out of place and not needed like the singing dishwasher kid, Pup (Paul Russell), the spoon waiter, and the shirtless cook scenes that comes off as too bizarre and pretentious. For the most part, the pacing is alright, despite a few filler and padding. Another thing, great about this movie is the music, by composter, Michael Nyman. It's beautiful, stately, & elegiac, even if it's mostly a recopy of his 1985's 'Memorial' funeral piece. It remind me, so much of 17th century English composter, Henry Purcell in the way, it adds immeasurable depth of feeling. Overall: Although, it's not easy to sit through this surreal, somewhat avant garde film. It's also impossible to turn away from the screen. It's like a beautiful train wreck. You hate to see it, but can't help, yourself for taking a look. I can only recommended it, for people that had morbid curiosity about certain people's inhumanity. There is no fine dining here.

This is one of my favorite films of all time. I don't know if its one of the best but it doesn't matter since the film is simply good enough to simply demand your attention.

The plot is simple enough, the course of a week during which a bunch of thugs take over restaurant and force its cook to prepare meals for them as proof of their good taste. Meanwhile the Thief's wife begins a clandestine affair with one of the other regulars, which is destined for a bad end.

Clearly artificial and allegorical I'm hard pressed to tell you what the film is "about" really. I don't think it's possible to come up with a definite answer short of having director Peter Greenaway tell us, and even then I could argue that would be wrong. Why do I think that the film isn't about anything? because I've seen it at least a dozen times and its never once played out the same way for me. Sometimes its a wild comedy of manners, other times a horror film, others an allegory, yet another time its pretentious trash. Its all of these things and none of them. Greenaway gives us clues and references, from references to pieces of art, to changing color schemes, to biblical parallels to others that refer to Thatcher's England. The film is packed with ideas that aren't always clear, even when you've seen the film numerous times. The film is about everything and nothing, its one of the few Greenaway films that touches the heart as well as the head (we feel for the lovers), which says a great deal (Greenaway's films more often then not are intellectually exciting but emotionally cold). I think the film is a masterpiece and a touchstone for where the viewer is.

Recommended whole heartily, with the proviso that the film has a graphic nature (violence and nudity) and is ultimately disturbing.

So many, many people miss the point.

The jarring contrast between the lush backgrounds, lovely set design and gorgeous soundtrack and the hideous violence is the whole point. Bountiful riches smothering a rotten core of moral decay. Exploitation and brutal manipulation seething beneath a thin veneer of respectability. The Elephant in the living-room that no-one talks about. The gangster's leer at the heart of the lipstick-smeared culture of greed.

This is an unforgiving film with a starkly *un*pretentious *political* message. It is propaganda, and should be seen as such.

Structured visual allegory with narrative footnotes. Meaning that each character is a *symbol*, not a character. The Thief is the filth-obsessed brute force necessary to power the engines of capitalism, the restaurant full of patient diners ignoring the hideous monster at its centre are the consumers of late 20th Century, the Cook is the intelligentsia attempting to construct society, The Thief's Wife, the choirboy and the other victims are various stages of Innocence being abused by the system and (for the sake of narrative) Her Lover is Mercury, the lightning bolt that brings Change. All very simple. Far too simple for an ordinary movie, really. Not exactly "entertainment".

The volume in everything in this movie is turned UP. It sounds and looks pretentious, yes, but this film is an exercise in *stripping away* unnecessary detail, not *adding* it as in previous Greenaways, to sharpen the knives to an exquisite edge, to flay the rotting flesh from the 80's paradigm's bones. It's a polemic, a rant, a scorched-earth blaze of cold rage.

But is it a good movie? Objectively? No. Not really.

It's too long, it's stomach-churningly violent, the lover characters are subtle and clash with the rest of the cast bizarrely and th colour-changing between environments, whilst stylistically clever, is disjointed and meaningless.

But is it a good series of perfectly lit photographs strung loosely together through time for neatnesses sake whose visual structure lends deep and powerful meaning to the central message of the film, that the only hope is that Innocence can triumph over Brute Greed? Subjectively? YES.

But... should one DO such things? SHOULD one make such movies? Who knows? Who cares? But... IS Capitalism REALLY that horrible? Did we really have to sit through all that filth just to be told that our social systems have consequences that we are not only completely aware of but are quite happy to ignore even if these consequences are blaring in our ears, interrupting our enjoyment of the choice sweetmeats the same system bestows on us so long as we let it do it's thing? Loaded question. And those who think they already know the answer will love or hate this film accordingly.

Me? I liked the costumes. And the dialogue. And the imagination. And I *respect* a film-maker who openly despises Evil. As for the political subtext... on some days I can forgive it and on others I can't, but one cannot expect to go looking at works of art that people have made and *never* see something that disturbs you. Artists have things to say.

Certainly he says it very loud, but that doesn't bother me. I have no problem with the grinding of axes, so long as the axe-grinder knows which end of the axe he's grinding...

The cook is Richard Boarst, head chef and manager at London's high-class Le Hollandais restaurant. The thief is Albert Spica, a crude, thuggish gangster who has recently become the owner of Le Hollandais. The other two major characters are Spica's wife Georgina and her lover Michael, a bookseller who often dines at Le Hollandais. The plot is a simple one. Spica discovers the affair, tracks Michael down and has him murdered. The grief-stricken Georgina plans a terrible revenge against her husband with the help of Richard. Writer/director Peter Greenaway said that the film was inspired by Jacobean drama, but Jacobean revenge tragedies generally had much more intricate plots and involved a greater number of killings. (The total death toll in "The Cook, the Thief, His Wife & Her Lover" is only two).

In the eighties the arthouse auteur Greenaway was the enfant terrible of the British cinema. Films like "The Draughtsman's Contract" and "Drowning by Numbers" were slick and glossy but stylised, enigmatic and mysterious in content. "The Cook, the Thief..." is rather simpler, but still shows a number of arthouse touches. The visual look of the film is said to have been influenced by sixteenth and seventeenth century Dutch and Flemish paintings, something Greenaway alludes to by having a copy of Frans Hals's "The Banquet of the Officers of the St. George Militia of Haarlem" on prominent display in the dining room of "Le Hollandais".

Something which has received a lot of attention is Greenaway's use of colour. Most of the action takes place in or just outside the restaurant, with a different colour predominating in each area; red in the dining room, green in the kitchen, white in the toilets and blue for the exterior. A couple of scenes take place in Michael's flat, where the prevailing colour is brown. The characters' clothes even change colour as they move from one room to another. Another surreal feature is the boy soprano who sings a setting of Psalm 51 in which the psalmist begs God to "blot out my transgressions" and to "wash me throughly from mine iniquity". This may be a reference to the crimes of the despicable Spica; it would take a vast quantity of blotting paper to blot out all his transgressions.

Michael Gambon is perhaps today best known for playing Albus Dumbledore, the wise and kindly headmaster in the "Harry Potter" dramas, but here he is in terrific form as Spica, a character about as different from Dumbledore as one can imagine. He is a ranting, roaring monster, the sort of man who revels in the fact that other people are afraid of him because their fear is the source of his power. He loves a joke, preferably a vulgar one, provided that it is at somebody else's expense. Despite his crudity, he has some pretensions to being a gourmet, but is otherwise a Philistine. Even before he discovers that Michael is his wife's lover, he despises the man because of his penchant for reading while sitting at his table in the restaurant, reading being an activity incomprehensible to Spica. There are also good performances from Helen Mirren as Georgina, far more refined and sensitive than her husband, from Alan Howard as the quiet, bookish intellectual Michael and Richard Bohringer as Richard, the one man who dares to stand up to Spica, probably because he knows that Spica cannot afford to lose a chef as good as he is.

The film has divided opinion on this board, with Greenaway's admirers queuing up to lavish praise on it and his detractors, taking exception to the violence and explicit sex scenes, contemptuously dismissing it as "vile" and "repellent". Most reviewers seem to have given it either ten stars (a mark I rarely award) or one star (a mark I generally prefer to avoid except for the tiny number of films which are totally beyond redemption). For the ten-star brigade it is a complex, multi-faceted religious or political allegory or a metaphor for the human condition. For their opponents it is a pretentious, nauseating piece of rubbish.

Well, allegory, like beauty, lies in the eye of the beholder. Greenaway has never said explicitly what the film is about, so if you want to see it as an allegory of the Fall of Man or a metaphor for life in Thatcher's Britain you are free to do so, although neither interpretation was one that occurred to me while watching it. (There were, of course, plenty of British films from the eighties that were critical of Thatcherism, but the writers and directors of such films were generally quite explicit about their intentions). My own interpretation of the film would be a more literal one, namely that for all Greenaway's surrealistic arthouse touches this is a psychological study of violence and revenge, just like the Jacobean dramas which inspired it. It is not my favourite film, but it has plenty to make it worth watching. 7/10.

I see that quite a few people got quite a bit out of this. I see some of it. Some I see not at all. But what IS important here is that this film can generate such discussions, such thoughts, such artistry and philosophical posing(phrasing if you prefer). I will look at the film straight-on(as much as possible) as it is undoubtedly surreal. It is other-worldly. The story in simplistic terms is about a horrible, vile, odious thief named Albert who has a lovely wife named Georgina - who is not satisfied on many levels with her brutish, vulgar, common, loud, sadistic thief husband. This husband owns perhaps the most chic restaurant in town. It is a tapestry of beautiful colors with a mix of unreality generously garnishing it. I have seen very few films that rival this in its use of colors and lighting(Mario Bava's films come to mind as someone similar). Director Peter Greenaway(also the writer) does such a splendid job "painting" this film for indeed it looks visually like a moving painting or poem or some other aesthetic endeavour. Anyway, I digress, this thief and his wife are eating dinner when the eyes of Georgina meet with those of a timid, bookish man named Michael eating and reading at his table. Their eye meeting is sex(not unseen in this case) and explodes eventually into physical passion. The affair is eventually uncovered and Voilla! we get one of the grossest, bizarre, poetic(again that word) denouements in film history. This film is not big on plot and action but on emotion, passion, feeling, disgust, hate, love, sex, etc... Greenaway is the real star with both his urbane, witty, sadistic script and, more importantly, with his eye for aesthetics and innate beauty. He creates a very real film in a very unreal world. The restaurant is like no other in the world. Its parking lot is the same. Even the meat trucks are done in the most grand guignol fashion and have more in common with a scene from Sweeney Todd then anything about meat. The kitchen is huge with one man shirtless, a small boy singing what sound like melodious fugues, and there is Richard the French cook who gets his crowning moment in the final act of the film. The music by Michael Nyman is almost as important as the director's artistic lens. It pervades and moves each scene. And finally, though not unimportant in any way, is the acting of Michael Gambon as Albert, Helen Mirren as Georgina, Richard Bohringer as Richard and Alan Howard as Michael. All shine in their roles but Mirren and Gambon are moving. Mirren, the woman who won an Oscar playing Elizabeth II, is just the sexiest thing on screen in her lingerie, or eating her asparagus, or caressing her lover. She, like the camera lens, the music, moves symphonically. Gambon, however; is the real acting star. He is the pillar of disgust. He is putrid. He is wonderful in his role. I would even go so far to say he is delicious(but let's leave that for Alan Howard shall we). I guess I am gushing. This film deserves it. I do not often sit down to watch something and just become entranced with it. I knew when I finished this film that I had witnessed not just a film nor a great film but art. The Cook the Thief His Wife & Her Lover is just that. Make no mistake.