Mark Mylod’s The Menu begins as a dressing-down of opulence earlier than reworking right into a trashy style thriller, veering between delightfully foolish, and simply plain foolish. It’s a thriller that’s by no means fairly thrilling sufficient, although it’s sometimes stunning, beginning with the best way its lead characters conflict over the setting.

Tyler (Nicholas Hoult) is a die-hard fanboy of uber-chef Julian Slowik (Ralph Fiennes), so the big price ticket is not any object when he has the prospect to go to Hawthorne, the chef’s secretive, invite-only restaurant on a lush, secluded island. His pleasure is effervescent, if a tad performative. Margot (Anya Taylor-Pleasure), alternatively, isn’t afraid to make it identified how unimpressed she is by all of the pomp and circumstance, from Hawthorne’s fancy modernist décor, to the eerily mechanical maître d’, Elsa (Hong Chau), who’s as a lot a spokesperson as she is an acolyte. Hawthorne is the type of institution that calls for tireless dedication from its workers, and Mylod satirizes this cult-like kitchen dynamic by way of amusing exaggerations.

The opposite diners embrace an older gentleman who Margot appears to know (Reed Birney), a washed-up actor attempting to make an impression (John Leguizamo), and a rigorous meals critic (Janet McTeer), all of whom have a full view of the clockwork kitchen from the open eating area. Every time Slowik claps his fingers, he instructions everybody’s consideration. Company and employees alike dangle on Fiennes’ each phrase, as he passionately describes the emotional impetus behind every deconstructed dish and its theatrical presentation. Earlier than lengthy, the programs start to take macabre turns that change into more and more private for the attendees. Sadly, whereas Fiennes could show joyfully magnetic, this story construction renders all different characters mere passive observers to the plot.

The movie’s metamorphosis from measured thriller to horror-comedy comes courtesy of violent accelerations, which arrive all of the sudden, and infrequently hilariously. The presentation is pristine, akin to a simple status drama, which yields an amusing disconnect with the mounting absurdities — like Slowik waxing poetic about his violent food-themed horrors and their extravagant staging, virtually twirling an invisible moustache. Nonetheless, The Menu struggles to make his philosophical musings quantity to a lot. The unfurling plot, subsequently, feels extra like a random assemblage of substances than a collection of fastidiously thought-about escalations. The result’s pressure that dissipates proper when it ought to succeed in its apex.

Fiennes could method his position with the finesse of Hannibal Lecter, however The Menu is seldom greater than Noticed dinner theatre — a spectacle that’s enjoyable in a gaudy form of approach, however with out taking too many dangers. Paradoxically, that’s a cardinal sin when one works in high-quality eating. It’s solely marginally extra forgivable right here.