it was the mundane monday night before the high of thanksgiving weekend. my roommate and I wanting a nudge in the brain and landed on this psychotic art horror. and i was hooked as soon as a saw the concept.
cinematically, it gave everything that i expected. the editing emulated the exact elegance Mylod was satirizing. the aesthetic of the film, a perfect representation of what food bloggers aspire to be, had just a kick of dark humor, which needless to say was: chefs kiss.
(spoilers:) i live for meta commentaries and while a little graphic and chaotic for my taste, the menu was so well crafted in this sense. the end of the movie, for instance, uses a cheeseburger metaphor that points out everything wrong with the modern age. it was simple and intuitive. frankly my first thought was that it felt cheap of an ending. but perhaps this is exactly what Mylod wants - a dig at the pretentious, grand endings, the scrummaging for crumbs of meaning, and simply the fru-fru of it all. what might be my favorite part of it all, however, has to be the exquisite s’mores death sentence - what an artistic death of guests that brilliantly, might i add, represent each of the seven. deadly. sins.
the menu introduced me to a world i hadn’t really noticed. but much more than just about fine dining and what not, it was a larger vision of the way we are all losing our sense of touch to the world. what does it mean to lose and find one’s passion again, to feel and not just do, and for god sakes, to be descent human beings.
