Flux Gourmet, 2022.
Written and Directed by Peter Strickland.
Starring Asa Butterfield, Gwendoline Christie, Ariane Labed, Fatma Mohamed, Makis Papadimitriou, Richard Bremmer, and Leo Bill.
SYNOPSIS:
Set at an institute devoted to culinary and alimentary performance, a collective find themselves embroiled in power struggles, artistic vendettas, and gastrointestinal disorders.
There’s no shortage of art scene takedowns (at the time of writing this review, at least two other films are playing in theaters indulging in such critiques). However, what separates Flux Gourmet from similar stories is writer and director Peter Strickland’s creative choice to return to his sonic catering roots (making music out of food) for this bizarrely biting commentary that aims at artistic egos and the patriarchy.
That probably sounds incredibly weird and esoteric, but Flux Gourmet is surprisingly narratively straightforward and accessible, with room to chew on its themes and the nature of its oddball sonic catering residency.
Jan Stevens (Gwendoline Christie in a role so unlike anything she’s ever done, I hardly recognized her until a close-up facial shot) is the stuffy overseer that has taken on a group of bandmates experiencing friction and tension into the residency. Romantic entanglements, personal confessions, and rough times have only amplified in this performance art sandbox that curates and encourages creative differences.
The appointed leader among them is progressive feminist Elle (frequent Peter Strickland collaborator Fatma Mohamed) is responsible for most of this clashing, using her time to deliver a speech (every member of the residency gets to do so) to bring up a woman-scribed cookbook from her past that’s either a troubling work of internalized misogyny or was ghostwritten by a man to keep up conservative housewife roles (there’s an alarming bullet point that advises wives to seek medication if none of the strategies listed keep husbands satisfied). The book and its views correlate to her traumatic upbringing, as the speech ends with an anti-sexism rally cry. It’s the first of many instances that rubs Jan the wrong way, presumably because Elle will be difficult to control artistically.
Then there is young Billy Rubin (another actor taking on a challenging role far outside his comfort zone and nailing it, Asa Butterfield) using his speaking time to share a kinky story involving an egg fetish that, among its inherent strangeness, leans into sexualizing woman chefs. It’s the polar opposite of everything Elle preached, further flaring up the drama between the former lovers. Lamina (Ariane Labed) is the third here, already struggling to connect with others and taking on a peacekeeper role here.
Things only get kinkier from there, which should be no surprise for anyone familiar with Peter Strickland. And if that wasn’t enough, everyone has to defend themselves from a violent group of rejected residency applicants that randomly show up and wreak some havoc.
Self-labeled hack journalist Stones (Makis Papadimitriou) is present to jot notes on these interactions, the performance art (which usually leads to an orgy with fans afterward), and strange hypnosis-induced role-playing sessions while also individually profiling these individuals that make for instrumental scenes getting to know and better understand these awkward and pleasantly offbeat characters. Stones also happens to be dealing with a frustrating body problem: he has a gastrointestinal condition that’s not letting up, with eccentric Dr. Glock (a highly expressive Richard Bremmer) requiring a colonoscopy for a more detailed assessment of what’s wrong.
Taking place over three weeks (separated into three chapters with Greek narration from Stones), the performance from Makis Papadimitriou needs to be singled out and highlighted for its impressiveness. The actor has an intimidating exercise of playing out a worsening state of this condition, drained of more energy daily and increasingly agitated, struggling to relieve bowel movements. There’s also plenty of demented comedy mined from him trying to hide this from the residency. He is practically glad and thankful for noise whenever arguments arise while spending most nights on the toilet. Peter Strickland isn’t going for cheap laughs with farting but instead finding the humor in Stones mastering his control down there to let out flatulence silently.
Aside from the talent in front of the camera, there’s also the juxtaposition that the more pretentious and bitter these artsy creatives are toward one another, Stones continues to build in constipation as if he is metaphorically bearing the brunt of their (bull)shit. However you want to read into it, it’s all building to a public performance art colonoscopy, complete with the sonic catering band morphing it into music for the ears (as gross as that sounds, I assure you the sound design is fantastic). Visually, the film is also simultaneously a treat and something beautifully disgusting to behold.
Flux Gourmet is occasionally narratively distancing, but the ideas probed inside this unbelievably weird setting resulted in an off-kilter delight. Some of it is gaseous, but there’s also more than enough here worth digesting.
Flickering Myth Rating – Film: ★ ★ ★ ★ / Movie: ★ ★ ★
Robert Kojder is a member of the Chicago Film Critics Association and the Critics Choice Association. He is also the Flickering Myth Reviews Editor. Check here for new reviews, follow my Twitter or Letterboxd, or email me at MetalGearSolid719@gmail.com
