Menus Plaisirs Les Troisgros (2023) Documentary Movie Review

What sets Wiseman apart is the simplicity and purity of his filmmaking. The best documentaries go beyond mere explanations or storytelling; they capture life's moments, unveiling hidden truths about existence. They provide fresh perspectives, making you see and appreciate things you might have overlooked. Additionally, Wiseman's documentaries are keen on revealing the intricacies of creating something, whether it's artists demonstrating their craft or ordinary citizens working to serve their community. It's about understanding the details of the human experience, whether in the arts or in the daily struggles of individuals trying to navigate life.

"Menus-Plaisirs Les Troisgros," a documentary about a French restaurant, showcases all of Frederick Wiseman's talents. It's a straightforward yet incredibly rich piece of work, standing alongside great food films like "Big Night" and "Tampopo." This documentary is a deep dive into the intricate processes of a fine dining establishment, covering everything from buying ingredients to preparing, plating, and serving. It's not just about food; it's also a film about families, family businesses, and, most subtly but strikingly, about truly looking at and appreciating things for what they are.

In true Wiseman fashion, it takes time to realize the family connections, as César and Michel interact primarily as boss and employee, albeit with cordiality and mutual respect. Wiseman's distinctive approach is evident throughout; there are no interviews, name titles, or voice-over narrations that have become documentary norms. Instead, Wiseman employs clever techniques like having a subject ask another to explain an idea or process verbally, letting the audience observe and listen without the typical documentary conventions.

In "Menus-Plaisirs Les Troisgros," Frederick Wiseman's approach stands out. Unlike typical documentaries, you won't hear people's names often. Wiseman wants us to appreciate individuals solely through their actions and words, observing their connections to the spaces they inhabit and inferring their broader place in the world. The film includes mini-montages, featuring close-ups and wide shots that linger on the screen, allowing us to absorb the texture, color, and content of each image. The cutting style often creates a sense of movement, with people traversing the screen in the same direction.

The majority of the film involves Wiseman and cinematographer James Bishop finding a strategic vantage point to observe people engaging in various activities, almost like standalone short films. For instance, there's an explanation about sulfite use in winemaking, a cheesemaker guiding restaurant employees through his factory's chemical processes, and a farmer discussing goat lactation cycles. Each moment is carefully captured, encouraging viewers to draw connections between different parts of the film.

What sets Wiseman apart is his refusal to spoon-feed information. He doesn't guide your gaze or explicitly link scenes. While other filmmakers might lead you, Wiseman lets his audience make their own connections. It's not a critique of other filmmaking styles; rather, it highlights Wiseman's unique approach that sets his films apart.

One distinctive aspect of Wiseman's films is their often lengthy duration, and you just have to embrace it. Scenes unfold as long as they need to, with no regard for the clock, and Wiseman encourages you not to worry about it either. If you stay attentive during scenes that may seem extended, you'll notice a deliberate strategy – a focus on capturing the subtle evolution within moments, like how a conversation starts one way and ends up differently.

Take, for instance, a scene where Michel, the main figure, discusses a dish prepared by César. Michel feels something is missing visually, not in taste. Despite appreciating the flavor, he points out the absence of a certain aesthetic quality. The restaurant's fame lies in its presentation, treating each dish like a framed painting, carefully balanced in composition and color. You sense César resisting Michel's suggestions, then eventually giving in. The reason – whether he realizes his father was right or simply because he's the boss – is left for us to interpret.

Michel remarks that the restaurant is always in movement, referring not just to the menu and physical space but also to the lives of those working there and the art-making process. Wiseman sees food as an art form, akin to theater, with the beauty of the creation countered by its inevitable destruction upon consumption. Daily in restaurants, there's a cycle of creation and destruction. Watching this film made me understand why people photograph their food – they want a record of the fleeting beauty that's about to vanish.