A film review by Mark O'Hara Copyright © 2001 Mark O'Hara

Every once upon a time a film comes along and charms us with its blend of story and message. Lasse Hallstrom’s CHOCOLAT is such a charmer, its story as light and sweet as some of the confections sold in the chocolaterie run by Vianne Rocher (Juliette Binoche), the main character.

The novel, by English and French writer/teacher Joanne Harris, begins the narrative on “Shrove Tuesday” with the words “We came on the wind of the carnival. A warm wind for February, laden with the hot greasy scents of frying pancakes and sausages and powdery-sweet waffles cooked on the hot plate right there by the roadside, with the confetti sleeting down collars and cuffs and rolling in the gutters like an idiot antidote to winter.”

Although screenwriter Robert Nelson Jacobs and Hallstrom have made countless changes in the translation from print to screen, Harris’ tone seems to come across – the narrative moves fluently and focuses on human emotions and vices, making especially clever use of the metaphor of chocolate as source of delight, sin and, most curiously, therapy.

The skinny on the tale: Vianne Rocher and her daughter Anouk (Victoire Thivisol) have a history of wandering from town to town. The two barge in on a slumbering old woman, Armande Voizin (Dame Judi Dench), and tell her they wish to rent her vacant restaurant and the apartment above. Although the conservative little town has just embarked on the Lenten season – with its Catholic rituals of fasting and self-denial – Vianne uses all due speed to clean and rearrange and cook. Soon she is the proprietress of an inviting chocolate shop – and the target of verbal persecution by the town’s mayor Comte de Reynaud (Count Fox?), played by Alfred Molina. The novel, by the way, features no such character. It is the priest, also one of the novel’s narrators, who attacks the temptation suggested by this woman: her chocolaterie and her entire lifestyle as an unmarried mother living in this way. Unfortunately, it is Catholic stereotypes that paint the mayor and priest as forbidding hypocrites.

Various subplots occupy our time well. Director Hallstrom’s wife, Lena Olin, plays Josephine Muscat, a paranoid kleptomaniac saved in various ways by Vianne’s acceptance and tutelage. There’s also an old man, Guillaume Bierot (John Wood), and the widow Audel (Leslie Caron) on whom he has a gentlemanly crush.

All of these actors do wonderful supporting work. The cast is clearly a strong point in the film. Olin’s two-sided character is played well, if a bit unbelievable in conception. Her abusive husband Serge (Peter Stormare) comes off as detestable and stupid: thanks to Stormare’s strong and transparent style. Dench is suitably crusty as Armande, and the boy who plays her grandson Luc, Aurelian Parent-Koenig, is one of the reasons for the film’s tone of innocence.

Alfred Molina, his black hair slicked and his mustache trimmed, is always a reliable actor. But here his mayor is too much the caricature. He refers to the first Count in the town’s history, who ran out the undesirable Huguenots; it’s his intention to run out the atheist Vianne and her luscious candies. At times we almost expect the mayor to twirl his mustache and cackle and wring his hands. Molina never gets the go-ahead, though, to play his character over-the-top. Instead the Count appears lonely (his wife has left him, though he hates to admit it), as well as controlling and inhibited.

A similar quandary exists with Vianne’s role. My judgment is Juliette Binoche is perfectly cast. She portrays Vianne’s looks and tolerant manner wonderfully; she’s a caring mother; she’s an open-minded free-spirit who befriends those who need friendship most. But her character is also the victim of an underdeveloped theme.

The west wind is described as some mystical agent: just as Vianne wandered throughout France with her own mother (who was South American, and an expert in the magical, even the healing powers of chocolate), Vianne now wanders with Anouk. Every now and then, when the story seem to need a pivot, the wind blows and we see Vianne struggling with primordial restlessness. So it’s a curse, we are led to believe, to bring her live-affirming tendencies into a new town, only to have to play the nomad game again and again.

The rub? We are treated to all kinds of gustatory pleasures as we witness Vianne stir her chocolate, sprinkling in chili powders and various tasty elixirs. The food imagery is nearly as rich and ever-present as it is in LIKE WATER FOR CHOCOLATE. But aside from the gourmet motifs, and the wind wiping out rationality, the film suffers from a failed infusion of magical realism. Harris does more with this material in the book, and it seems as though a more exaggerated tone could have been injected into the visual version.

Still, the film is very enjoyable, with strengths that outweigh the weaknesses I have detailed earlier. Johnny Depp does a nice job as a gypsy-like “river rat,” delivering a subtle Irish accent. And Binoche herself is most compelling as Vianne, so full of love and quiet strength that she has enough left to give others.

It’s a small joy that CHOCOLAT is rated PG-13. I would recommend it to anyone as a fable to be savored long after it’s consumed.

	Running Time: 121 Min | Rated: PG-13 | US Release: Jan 5th | More >>

Related Links:

• Official Site
• The Victoire Thivisol Website
• Upcomingmovies.com: Chocolat

One taste is all it takes.