Film review: Haute Cuisine

The first female private chef of French President Francois Mitterrand is the ostensible subject of this fictionalized biopic, but the star of the movie is undoubtedly the food. Recalling Julie and Julia, another French-flavored foodie flick, Haute Cuisine practically drools over the dishes it depicts, from truffles to tenderloin to tarts. This is not a film to watch when hungry. It’s also a paean to the old ways of doing things, pre-healthy eating, pre-austerity, pre-PC, a nostalgic tribute to la France profonde.

Hortense Laborie (played by Catherine Frot and based on Daniele Delpeuch, the first woman chef at the ElyseePalace) is plucked from provincial semi-obscurity and given the illustrious task of cooking for the president. At first she demurs, protesting that she only cooks simple food, not the fancy fare befitting a head of state. But it turns out that this is just what the politician has in mind. With a small band of culinary allies, Hortense goes to work, rustling up rustic repasts for monsieur le president, while taking on the kitchen misogynists who had ruled the roost hitherto and resent her appointment and presidential face time.

But all is not rosy in the kitchen. The story unfolds in flashback from the present day, which sees Hortense working on a remote research base in Antarctica, and trying to shake off documentary makers curious about her time at the palace, which she seems to have left under something of a cloud.

Haute Cuisine is not a probing film. We learn very little of Hortense’s background and life outside or before her appointment. But from Frot’s assured performance we see that she is kind, determined and principled, a down-to-earth woman whose courteous composure is juxtaposed with the rambunctiousness of the men on the base and in the main kitchen at the ElyseePalace.

The one ingredient missing from the mix is dramatic conflict. Hortense’s resolute avoidance of the journalists hints that some scandal might have prompted her resignation. But the film doesn’t deliver on that, and aside from the odd flare up in the palace’s power struggles, there is little tension. “Will the omelets be ready on time?” is not the most gripping of cliffhangers.

But despite this, the movie retains audience attention. This is in part thanks to Frot, whose Hortense, though clearly warm and well liked, remains something of an enigma: motherly with her eager young sous-chef (Arthur Dupont) and respectful with the improbably genial and laidback president (Jean d’Ormesson), but playing her recipe cards close to her chest.

Mainly, though, it is due to the food, the filmmakers’ love of which is infectiously conveyed, as the lens lingers on a dollop of icing or the grating of truffles. Like Hortense’s cooking, the story is unfussy and old-fashioned, but scenes of gastro-porn season the uneventful narrative to create a film to savor.