The Menu ★★★★☆
If Michelin-starred chefs ever decided to turn horror directors, The Menu is what they’d cook up—a perfectly charred satire served with a side of uncomfortable laughter. This darkly comedic thriller elevates dining to the realm of blood sport, and you’ll be thinking twice before asking to see the chef next time.
The film takes us to a secluded island where a group of ultra-wealthy guests have paid top dollar for a one-of-a-kind dining experience at Hawthorne, an exclusive restaurant run by the enigmatic and sinister Chef Julian Slowik (Ralph Fiennes). Among the attendees are Margot (Anya Taylor-Joy) and Tyler (Nicholas Hoult), a mismatched couple who soon realize this isn’t your typical fine dining affair. As each course is served, it becomes clear that the evening is spiraling into something much darker—and deadlier.
On the surface, The Menu appears to be a culinary thriller, but peel back the layers, and it’s really a biting commentary on the grotesque excesses of the ultra-rich. Through meticulously presented courses, each more grotesque than the last, the film skewers everything from pretentious foodie culture to the toxic dynamics of power and privilege. The guests—self-absorbed food critics, washed-up actors, and arrogant tech bros—represent the soulless elite who consume without conscience. Chef Slowik’s deadly dinner isn’t just about revenge; it’s a brutal statement on how artistry is devalued in a world dominated by wealth.
Director Mark Mylod brings a masterful, almost surgical precision to the film’s visual design. The restaurant itself is a character—cold, pristine, and unnervingly perfect. Mylod uses overhead shots to frame each dish like art on display, echoing the hyper-controlled world of haute cuisine. Every visual, from the austere kitchen to the tension-filled dining room, builds a claustrophobic atmosphere, trapping the audience in the madness. The cinematography by Peter Deming is slick and composed, reflecting the sterile luxury that turns increasingly macabre as the courses unfold. The dish descriptions appearing on screen add an extra dash of black humor—think of it as Chopped meets Saw.
Ralph Fiennes is absolutely chilling as Chef Slowik, a man whose calm demeanor hides a simmering rage. His thunderous handclaps to announce each course are enough to make you drop your fork. Anya Taylor-Joy brings a refreshing groundedness as Margot, a woman who, unlike the rest, doesn’t belong among the wealthy sycophants and therefore becomes the film’s moral compass. Nicholas Hoult, as the insufferable foodie Tyler, is hilariously unhinged in his blind worship of Slowik, making his eventual downfall all the more satisfying. Hong Chau’s performance as Elsa, Slowik’s icy right-hand woman, adds another layer of tension as she quietly judges and orchestrates the mayhem with eerie composure.
The film’s pacing is as tight as a perfectly timed soufflé. Each act is structured around a new course, with tension mounting as the evening progresses. Mylod expertly balances slow-burn suspense with moments of sharp, shocking violence. The story never overstays its welcome, unfolding at a brisk 107 minutes. Some might find the film’s satirical jabs at the elite a little too on the nose, but it’s hard to deny that the absurdity works—especially when the dessert involves human s’mores (yes, that’s a thing).
Who among us hasn’t stared down at a pretentious plate of microscopic portions and felt a bit…cheated? The Menu taps into that universal frustration with elitist culture, whether it’s in food, art, or society at large. It also plays on our voyeuristic enjoyment of seeing the rich and powerful brought low. Watching The Menu felt like being in on an inside joke about how art and talent are consumed—and ultimately destroyed—by those who can afford it.
The Menu is perfect for anyone who loves their dark comedies with a side of social critique. Fans of sharp satire, like Parasite or Triangle of Sadness, will find this film deliciously wicked. It’s not for the faint of heart, but if you’re game for some gourmet horror, this is a meal you won’t forget.
