Predictable Hollywood
There is probably no hope that Hollywood will ever lose its affection for this idea, but will it ever realize how boring it is? That any film delivering this line — as just about every best-picture nominee last year did — is as far away from “daring” as possible?
The plot of Chocolat has a gypsy-like woman named Vianne arriving in a small French town to open a chocolate shop. Of course, her delicious creations have magical, sexual powers (we've seen this before, in movies from Like Water for Chocolate to the recent bomb Woman on Top. Of course, Vianne is a sensitive (but attractive!) soul.
Of course, the powers that be — the keepers of the town's moral order — disapprove. And, of course, as the story unfolds, those powers are exposed as ridiculous, scowling hypocrites.
Boring, predictable, tendentious — just a few of the qualities that make Chocolat such a stand-out. But what makes this yawner worthy of comment is how it represents, in distilled form, that most insidious of Hollywood messages: that all rules are noxious and confining, especially the moral injunctions of traditional religion (specifically, Catholicism).
Lent as Repressive and Irrational
Vianne’s transgression (she's played by best-actress nominee Juliette Binoche) is opening her shop during Lent. The resulting conflict gives the makers of Chocolat an opportunity to deride as repressive and irrational the very idea of Lent, the idea of making any gesture of self-abnegation — say, by giving up chocolate — in an effort to prepare the soul for the gift of everlasting life, made possible by Christ’s death on the cross and Resurrection. How silly! How inconvenient!
In Chocolat, as in so many movies over the last 30 years, anything that involves sacrifice or devotion to a cause other than self-expression is an abomination, to be struck down by the sun-dappled gods of sexual license and the free autonomous will.
On and On
Sex is mostly a subtext in Chocolat, but — of course — it's there. When the town’s mayor gives in to the allures of chocolate, he smears it all over himself in an orgiastic frenzy worthy of Karen Finley. It's one of the droller and dumber scenes in the movie. But it has plenty of competition.
Of course, there's a wife beater — who is defended by the forces of morality in the town. Of course, there is a single mom — our heroine. Of course, there is a hippie drifter — who proves himself more moral and useful than any of the town's bourgeois establishment. And on and on.
This movie isn't the slightest bit entertaining, but here's the criticism that really hurts: it isn't even sophisticated — even if the title is in French.
(This article can also be found on National Review Online).
(To read a review of the film Traffic click here.)
