Tony is a biopic of Anthony Bourdain, the late, great chef who, in fact, considered himself a writer first – his memoir Kitchen Confidential has sold in its millions – and a ‘skilled cook’ second. It’s not a Wikipedia entry, filmed. And it’s not hagiographic. It focuses on 1975 and the formative summer he spent washing dishes in Provincetown. He was 19 and the film opens with his own description of himself at that age: ‘I was – to be frank – a spoiled, miserable, narcissistic, self-destructive, thoughtless young lout who needed a good ass-kicking.’ I would say Nigella is also a writer first, skilled cook second, but perhaps any similarity ends there.
Though the film feels authentic, it isn’t true true. In fact, you may sometimes wonder: did that actually happen? The creators insist that, while they have taken liberties and introduced composite characters, it is at least metaphorically true and that it gets to the heart of a troubled soul in search of somewhere to belong. It stars Dominic Sessa, who is terrific. He captures the swagger, the awkwardness, the anger, the vulnerability, the physicality. (I don’t know what Bourdain would make of the film but I don’t believe he’d have objected to Sessa looking so lean, sexy and brooding.)
We start, more or less, in his family’s New Jersey home where he punches a hole in the wall after a row with his exacting mother. (Her lack of approval will drive his lifelong quest for acceptance, it is suggested.) He is a liar – he maintains the fiction that he has won a writing fellowship when he was rejected – and a thief, stealing money from his father’s wallet to fund his fare to Provincetown in pursuit of his high-school crush Nancy (Emilia Jones). On his first night there, he finds a seafood place, orders oysters, gets drunk, hits on the barmaid, makes a spectacle of himself, gets thrown out.
I don’t believe Bourdain would have objected to Sessa looking so lean, sexy and brooding
The following morning, when he swings round to apologise, he encounters ‘Chef’ (played by Antonio Banderas – his best work for ages; thankfully, his Puss in Boots years are now behind him). ‘Chef’ – he has no other name – is tough but also kindly. He takes pity on Tony, lets him sleep in the hammock on his back porch, gives him a job in the kitchen’s ‘dish pit’. His workmates are Sal (Leo Woodall), a sociopathic line cook with a liking for cocaine and heroin, and Stavros (Stavros Halkias), who is sweaty, stained, chaotic. They haze Bourdain mercilessly but also, in their way, put their arms around him. Bourdain is home. For now.
Sadly, we know his troubled nature will remain. He committed suicide at 61 and this is foreshadowed by a scene where Chef relates the story of Vatel, the 17th-century French chef who killed himself because a fish delivery failed to arrive. ‘He killed himself?’ says Tony. That moment is too on the nose, even if it does break your heart. That said, the film doesn’t stray into sentimentality as such, which is excellent, as Bourdain would have hated that for sure.
It’s well directed (Matt Johnson) in that you get a sense of events unfolding organically, but it’s Sessa’s film. He brings a sadness and sensitivity to the part that will keep you on side even when Bourdain’s at his worst. (He even betrays Chef.)
And he does live on through the advice he left behind. We all remember his restaurant rules: never order fish on a Monday, never order the special, brunch is for losers (cheap bulk ingredients sold at exorbitant prices). I think of him every time a new brunch place opens nearby – so that’s nearly every day.
Comments