If you follow global cinema, you probably first heard of The Taste of Things under a different name: Tran Anh Hung’s film premiered at Cannes 2023 under the title The Pot-au-Feu. Despite that very French name (which is, literally, the pot on the fire—an important food dish in the culinary film), it was even retitled in to La ion de Dodin Bouffant. But if you’ve heard of The Taste of Things only recently, it was more likely related to the uproar created when its home country chose the film as ’s Oscar submission for Best International Feature over Justine Triet’s Palme d’Or winner Anatomy of a Fall. 

We covered the ins and outs of that drama on a recent episode of Best in Show. In any case, the film still won Best Director at Cannes, and it is time to move on from the narrative of chaotic title changes and Oscar stoushes, and let The Taste of Things rightfully take a seat at the table on its own merits, as the sumptuous movie that it is. Juliette Binoche and Benoît Magimel star as nineteenth-century culinary artists in the Southwest of , who we watch as they prepare meals for esteemed guests and teach a young pupil who has a unique ability to name every spice she can taste in a sauce. Eventually, through Hung’s patient craft, we come to understand how the two cooks have a balanced routine of love on their own .

Experiencing The Taste of Things has been overwhelming and soothing for many Letterboxd . GusBrazil writes, “My jaw dropped several times during this film. It reminded me of other great films about food but it was also unique in its own right. The way they developed the characters without much dialogue was beautiful and special. I can’t wait to watch it again. It took me a while to realize that there was practically no music whatsoever. I told my partner several times, ‘I want to live in this movie.’”

Alexandra playfully declares: “Food Network could never. A beautiful film made without a central conflict, which is very hard to do.” She also points out that the leads were once lovers and have a daughter together, which is one of the highlights of our interview—how art was able to close gaps between Binoche and Magimel and amplify the child they share. You can find The Taste of Things on culinary-themed Letterboxd lists from Olivia, Roelof, Melissa and more. Many share the feelings of Gus and Alexandra, that this will be a movie they revisit many times over the years. The length of a life, and of the relationships within it, is at the heart of the film and my conversation with the director and his leading actress.

Hung, if you’re not majorly into cooking, then I would rephrase the question. For you as a filmmaker, the reward comes at the end, like the applause at the end. It’s about the entire experience, but so much about food is the first bite and the initial reaction.
Tran Anh Hung: Even if I don’t cook, I help in the kitchen. I help my wife. So, when we invite friends, we spend the day cooking. Before that, I go to the market and buy everything. I wash, I cut and she cooks. I see how much of the nature of cooking is caring. It’s something that is really obvious. It’s generosity and sharing. So, everything needs to be carefully done. You have to present everything in a certain way. It cannot be another way. So my wife—she’s there and she tells me how to present everything because it needs to also be very appealing for the eyes.

How did you approach filming the cooking scenes, the environment of the movement in that kitchen and the beauty of everything being prepared?
TAH: These scenes were really difficult to shoot because they need to be both very free and also very precise. Plus, we needed to see everything. We needed to see what is cooking, and the faces and the hands and how the body is engaged in this process. It needed to be very harmonious and at the same time very sensual. So all we see needs to bring this quality of harmony to the audience. That was difficult. Of course, I relied on Juliette and Benoît for that rhythm in making these dishes.

Usually, I’m working in films that are full of screams, or it’s very confrontational. In this one, they’re reserved, and she has her limits. I love that there was a harmony, even though they’re different. I’d like to achieve that in my life, but I haven’t done that yet. So, I think this film has a good hint of inspiration for that need. Because who doesn’t want to be harmonious? Of course, we want to have that trust between two people and have care with each other and acknowledge the differences without being bothered by them. To tolerate differences—that’s maturity. I’m still working on that.

You bring up the intensity usually found in your roles. The role of dinner in movies is very different in this one as well, because dinner scenes are often the setting for an eventual argument. Here, it’s the discussion of the food. So how French is it to spend dinner talking about the food, and which course do the arguments generally start in?
JB: Absolutely. The main subject in French conversations is about food. Sometimes I find it a little boring, I have to say, because you want to lift it somewhere. I mean, it can be lovely, of course. You want to ask, “How did you make this?” You want to know the recipe. You want to know the secrets—because it’s yummy. Any art, you want to know what’s behind it. But there’s a moment you want to lift it somewhere else. What do you think, Hung?

TAH: For me, it’s quite special because as a Vietnamese, I came to when I was twelve, so I discovered through this conversation around the table. It’s something that, for me, was really beautiful and very French. It’s not just food—with a family, you talk about what you read, a song you listened to. It’s also quite scary for me, as a stranger, to know what you want to talk about.

JB: I think Hung is one of the people who embraced the most that I’ve known. French people like disliking themselves, and they poo-poo a lot of the Frenchy stuff. But Hung is fascinated by it; he’s loving it, and it’s true in the film. You see it. You see the French way of expressing feelings. The literature in the script, the way you wrote the script is very French; it is one of the most French [scripts] that I’ve seen. It’s very moving for me, being born in and seeing you as a foreigner who—now, you’re half French, if not more—really embraces the culture that some dismiss. You worship these qualities.

TAH: Yes, I was especially moved by the scene with the long table and how Dodin talked about the qualities of autumn [in relation to his age]. For me, that sounded very, very French. I was very happy to be able to write this scene like that. It was very difficult for me.

Juliette, I wanted to ask you about the character of Pauline and how Eugénie’s desire for her to become a pupil is established so early in the film, before we as an audience even understand that Dodin is your lover. How was that helpful for you as a performer, for her narrative journey to begin with this dynamic?
JB: In the story, my character doesn’t have children. When you recognize somebody who’s good at something that is difficult, there’s a need to link to some kind of future. Not only because of what she knows as a cook but also to give Dodin a sort of path through this apprentice. So, altogether, there was a need of recognizing somebody very early on, because at the time, apprentices started much earlier than today. In the film, we learn that it takes half your life to become a good cook.

What was moving to me about this film was [making] it with Benoît, who I had a relationship with a long time before, and we have a daughter together. For me, this film became—through Hung’s words—a sort of a bridge to declare my love to Benoît. We hadn’t spoken for a long time. We could have had a better relationship in the past. It didn’t happen. That’s the way it is. This film became a beautiful tool to make peace. So, for our daughter to watch the film was very meaningful. To go back to your question about this Pauline character, for me, it became my daughter. In the real world, she was my daughter.

Thank you so much for saying that. I was debating if it would be okay to ask how that was informed by your previous relationship.
JB: Yeah, I think maybe it could help some people to use any kind of art to express to another person their feelings. So, you don’t have to use your direct words in trying to have a meeting and saying, “I wanna tell you this, I wanna tell you that.” That can be very difficult or heavy or seem impossible. An art form is a wonderful tool in order to say something to somebody without being too direct, you know? You can express that I care for you, you’re in my heart, or I want to transform the relationship. In that case, this film was extraordinary for us, as a tool. I didn’t know it before, but making a cake, or writing a poem, or playing music, or sending something special that you’ve handcrafted has a strong potential.

Just a very quick last question, but since we are talking Pauline and apprenticeships, who do you feel like you each were the apprentice of? Or who did you learn the most from in your craft when you were starting?
TAH: Early on, I really liked Stanley Kubrick for his simplicity. Kubrick’s films go deeper when he simplifies everything, and that is something I learned.

JB: What really influenced me—I think I was fourteen, and my mother took me to the theater all the time because we loved it. We went to see the Peter Brook play Ubu aux Bouffes, from Alfred Jarry, a French writer. At the end of the play, I had so much joy, and I was in awe of how much a play could bring you that inside of yourself. Everybody was standing up and applauding, and I thought if I can give as much joy as what I received tonight, then I want to do it.