Chocolat
No doubt one of the most dangerous things in this world, and the cause of so many of its problems, is the celebration of repression, the idea of withholding and denying oneself even the simplest of pleasures for the sake of some presumed spiritual fulfillment as advocated by those such as the Catholic Church. Thus is the theme of this 2000 film (nominated for the Best Picture Oscar) about a small French town in 1959 whose strict devotion to the Catholic sentiments and dogma has all but strangled the life out of it, when one a day a woman and her daughter arrive and immediately open up a chocolate store (right at the beginning of Lent, no less) and the townspeople get their panties in a bunch over the ongoing temptation of chocolate treats (as opposed to sex or drugs) and kicking off a spiritual war where the so-called Christians have their hypocrisies revealed by their shoddy treatment of someone different than themselves. Director Lasse Hallstrom quickly lures the viewer into a tranquil state by lovingly showing us the process by which the chocolate is made, and the owner’s ability to deduce what would be the best kind of chocolate for each customer kind of turns the story into a benevolent remake of Needful Things, with the shopkeeper being the hero instead of the satanic villain. In the lead role, Juliette Binoche (Best Actress Oscar Nominee here) maintains a sweet, understanding disposition even as her seemingly psychic powers might throw the viewer off that the story is heading into supernatural territory, yet Binoche carries her performance through with stride, and she is well matched by her daughter played by Victoire Thivisol. As their grouchy old landlord who warms up when served some special hot chocolate, Judi Dench (a Supporting Actress Nominee here) doesn’t seem very French in her way of speaking, but still manages to pull off fine acting moments as she reconciles with her grandson and it turns out her highly diabetic state results in her slowly, joyously committing suicide, though the movie skips the politics in this issue by at least implying that she is going out with a smile, as opposed to the Kevorkian method of putting on a gas mask and closing your eyes; Alfred Molina brings his usual swarthy yet magnetic presence to the role of the town mayor who declares the morality war, yet by his own forced repression winds up driving himself to the brink of madness by the end; Lena Olin (one of the most underrated hotties in cinema history) wins this viewer over yet again as the kooky, klepto wife in an abusive relationship whose friendship with Binoche results in her coming out of her shell and telling her husband where to stick it; Carrie-Anne Moss stumbles worse than anyone else over her fake French accent as Dench’s estranged daughter; Leslie Caron barely has any dialogue as the resident grieving widow, but it’s still nice to see her on screen again; Hugh O’Conor is burdened with the most cliché role as the young, stammering virgin priest whose every word is dictated by Molina, but his sermon at the end succeeds at summing up the movie nicely; Peter (Crazy Russian From Armageddon) Stormare plays the abusive husband as a complete dolt; and Johnny Depp gets a classic Movie Star Role as the guitar-playing leader of a band of gypsies that float into town only to be shunned by the judgmental townspeople but welcomed by Binoche into her shop. To be quite honest, I had low expectations going into this, but Hallstrom as director succeeds in making this quite a light, charming affair that makes its point very clear that a true Christian is not defined by a strict set of rules that should apply to everyone but rather in how he or she treats their fellow man and embraces the goodness of life in this world since we really don’t know how much time we have in it. Overall, a pleasant surprise, and very highly recommended for anyone with a severe sweet tooth…
8/10