Wiseman in France - Menus-Plaisirs

In comparison with recent projects focusing on the New York City library system, the Paris Opera, and Boston city government, documentarian Frederick Wiseman's latest field of inquiry—a family of restaurateurs in a small town in southwest France—might seem small. Yet he has little difficulty sustaining our interest through four unhurried hours of Menus-Plaisirs - Les Troisgros. During this time we join Michel Troisgros as he analyzes a menu with his two sons, listen in as the wait staff discuss their daily assignments, table by table, and watch the ensemble at work as guests arrive. We spend a good deal of time in the kitchen as dishes being prepared.

Interspersed here and there are visits to several nearby farms where Michel and his sons get their meat and vegetables. We tour a cheese warehouse along with the wait-staff, where the owner explains the various storage and rubbing techniques required to age a particular cheese successfully, and stop in at a local vineyard where the restaurant gets much of its wine. The pace is leisurely, the countryside quietly sublime.

In one scene Michel discusses the wine list with his sommelier, who has only been able to secure one bottle of Richbourg—at 5,000 euros. (They already have a patron in mind.) Even the lesser Burgundies don't come cheap.

Wiseman has never been one to explain things or introduce people, and it takes a while to sort out the principal players. The issue is compounded by the fact that one of Michel's son runs his own restaurant a half-hour away. Such an approach can be confusing in the short run, but it forces us to pay close attention to what's going on, minute by minute. Over time a sense of richness, natural bounty, civility, taste, and family feeling develops, and it's a pleasure to experience.

One attribute that's absent from the film is pretension. Everyone seems to be on the same page—producers, suppliers, chefs, line cooks, servers, guests. No one is trying to impress, or gouge, anyone else. Conversation at the tables is casual yet "informed." Dress is informal but crisp. A large percentage of the guests are elderly, as we might expect, considering that the standard eight-course tasting menu with wine parings runs to $600 per head. But we meet plenty of younger folk, too. And the nearest we come to a conflict is in a scene during which Michel samples a dish newly created by his son and finds it to be too hot. "Too much sriracha," he keeps saying. "I'm enjoying it. But too much sriracha."       

The restaurant has been a family-run affair for several generations, and has retained a three-star Michelin rating since 1968. You could make a reservation there yourself, if you happen to be planning a trip to Lyon. But for now, why not just watch the movie.

You can see the whole thing here.