Movie Review – The Cook, The Thief, His Wife, and Her Lover

The Cook, The Thief, His Wife, and Her Lover (1989)
Written and directed by Peter Greenaway

From its abrasive opening moments, you know you are in for a unique experience. English gangster Albert Spica (Michael Gambon) has his lackeys toss someone who has failed him out onto the streets as stray dogs wander over. The scene is flanked by a truck full of fresh seafood on one side and a truck of meat on the other. Spica proceeds to begin what will be an endless monologue, yammering in his Cockney dialect as if he is enchanted by hearing his own voice. He says nothing of import. He proceeds to strip & batter the poor man on the ground and then smear dog shit over his body, leaving him there to rot. Spica and his entourage move on to the restaurant he’s purchased, where the criminal believes he can hold court.

The Cook, The Thief, His Wife, and Her Lover (TCTTHWAHL? na, we’ll call it The Cook) is the work of filmmaker Peter Greenaway, but also composer Michael Nyman, who repurposed some earlier pieces that work seamlessly with the film. I can’t imagine this movie without this music, and it wouldn’t be half as good if it wasn’t there. Greenaway has cited the 17th-century play ‘Tis Pity She’s a Whore as the template for his script. Having read a synopsis, I can’t quite see it, but I’ll take him at his word. What The Cook acts as is a perfect example of why cinema is such a fantastic thing. You are pulled into another world, and every moment of this film is intense with stunning, sensuous imagery, beautiful music, and cutting dialogue.

Spica has taken over Los Hollandais, an upscale restaurant managed by French chef Boarst (Richard Bohringer). Boarst is disgusted by the oaf who comes every night with his thugs to dine while disliking almost everything and acting like it’s the chef’s fault rather than Spica’s dull palette. The gangster frequently gets into physical confrontations with the other guests and staff. His wife Georgina (Helen Mirren) silently endures these tantrums, finding as many reasons as she can to retreat to the lavatory. She ends up making a wordless connection with Michael (Alan Howard), a bookshop owner who sits by himself reading while he eats. Georgina and Michael eventually begin sneaking around the restaurant and having sex behind Spica’s back. Boarst learns of this and does everything he can to protect them from the criminal’s wrath, but this is a very operatic tragedy, so we know it can only last so long.

Greenaway doesn’t shy away from the theatricality of the production, placing the characters in vast sets that are clearly soundstages. That doesn’t mean this isn’t a beautiful movie. The production design by Ben van Os and Jan Roelfs is fantastic from the dining room with the painting Banquet of the Officers of the St George Militia Company (17th century) by Dutch artist Fran Hals will immediately catch your eye. You’ll likely notice that Spica and his men are wearing remarkably similar outfits as the men in the painting. All the wardrobe in the film was done by Jean-Paul Gaultier. You will also likely notice that Georgina’s dresses change color to the dominant palette of the room she enters. The scarlet dining room is reflected in her clothes, as is the stark white of the restroom. Cinematographer Sacha Vierney (Hiroshima Mon Amour) presents everything with such vivid & intense color yet knows how to shade his subjects when they hide away from the world. The film is perfect.

There appears to be a lot of discourse over what the film is about. Some clearly see religious allegories at work, with Georgina representing mankind, Spica the Devil, Boarst as God, and Michael as Jesus. Others are adamant that this is a commentary on Thatcher-era Britain and the anti-intellectual right wing being allowed to hold court in all their ignorance. All the interpretations make sense to a certain degree, but I argue the film stands entirely on its own. It’s a story about being alive and realizing how that’s been withheld from you for so long. Extreme things happen in this movie, which is why it garnered an NC-17 in the States upon its initial release. There’s a lot of nudity, but I wouldn’t say the sex is all that graphic. There’s some shocking violence but nothing so gory that audience members will faint.

The centerpiece of the film is Helen Mirren, giving the best performance of her life. As Georgina, she doesn’t have a line of dialogue for the first half hour or more of the film. She shares that with Michael as their love affair unfolds without an utterance. The space is filled by Spica’s incessant yammering, an impressive feat from Gambon. While her husband’s insecurities lead him to need to bloviate, Georgina seeks peace, and the silent embrace of Michael is everything she needs. Things turn tragic, as we expect in these kinds of stories. I would argue this has a lot in common with Grimm’s Fairy Tales. A scene near the film’s end allows Mirren to speak without interruption, delivering a monologue that had me in tears. The pain and tenderness of her words, unable to face a horrible truth, wanting to fall asleep and dream that maybe when she wakes up, all of this will never have happened. It is one of the best film performances I have ever seen.

The Cook is a showcase of both technical and narrative perfection. Greenaway is so passionate about this piece, as is everyone involved, and you can feel that on the screen. There are so many side characters and little details that I’m sure I would learn more from on a rewatch. The food trucks from the opening are left outside as they were something Boarst never asked for, and the contents rotting inside throughout the film serve as a crucial part of the plot. There’s the boy who washes the dishes and sings of being wiped clean of his own sins in the eyes of God. The film has a textured nasty viscera, culminating in one of the most shocking endings I’ve ever seen. I love that Greenaway wasn’t afraid to get disgusting and filthy here because it makes the picture much better. 

I rank The Cook up there with the best of David Lynch. It’s filmmaking that couldn’t be made by anyone else. He has complete control of the elements of his craft. Greenaway has chosen perfect collaborators, and everyone fires on all cylinders from start to finish. The only thing I regret is that I just discovered this film for myself now. This makes me extremely keen to explore more of Greenaway’s work, as this is also the first film of his I’ve seen. Consider me a fan.