Babette's Feast

Ask almost anyone what his favorite food is, and it's unlikely you'll get the same response as if you had asked what the best meal is he's ever had. Once in a very long while, however, intellect and emotion converge, and "good" food corresponds with "favorite" food. With me, though, this convergence happens almost exclusively in food that is exquisite because it is simple but perfectly executed with just the right ingerdients: a fresh loaf of ciabatta (five ingredients, but it’s all about time and kneading), chocolate mousse (four, but the egg whites must be folded the exact right amount), green beans with just a bit of salt and olive oil (OK, there’s no real technique there. The beans and olive oil just have to be high quality.).

Movies work the same way. There are some incredibly good movies I've seen that will never be my favorite movies because they are just too heavy (or too long, or too bloody – the analogy still works in each case). Meanwhile, some of my favorite movies are definitely the film equivalent of empty calories, predictable comfort food, or dishes that you love simply because they bring back good memories. And then there’s that rare movie that can both be counted as a favorite and an artistic accomplishment.

Babette’s Feast is one of those rare movies. Like those special foods, it succeeds precisely because it is simple in its aspirations, but meticulous in its details. The story was written by Danish author Isek Dinesen and first published in the 1950s in the Ladies Home Journal. The title character is Babette Hertsard, a French refugee in the 1800s who finds herself in a remote fishing village on the coast of Denmark. The village is simple, humble, and devoutly religious, and Babette becomes the servant and cook for two elderly sisters whose father founded the devout religious sect the village people follow. Babette’s only tie to her French (read: more worldly) past is a yearly lottery ticket. One day she wins that lottery, and decides to thank the sisters for the past fourteen years by cooking them and their congregation an elaborate meal.

The 1987 Danish film benefits from its humble and succinct beginnings. Because the movie primarily revolves around the preparation of a single meal, there is no rush to just move through the plot, and instead the film can linger over the visual details and delve into the characters’ nuances and intriguing pasts. The plot quietly progresses, and before you realize it, there is a final satisfying twist that I didn’t predict only because I was enjoying the movie too much. The cinematography savors both the food and the countryside, and the result is beautiful. The juxtaposition of the sumptuous meal and the ascetic village enriches the portrayal of each, and gives the film most of its depth and texture. Better still, in the end this juxtaposition seems to melt away, leaving the viewer to realize that Babette’s loving and extensive preparation bears more similarity to religious devotion than one might realize; eucharistic undertones develop, and the woman anointing Jesus with expensive perfume comes to mind.

While the meal portrayed in Babette’s Feast may be elaborate and extensive, the movie itself is exactly like my favorite foods: complex in its simplicity and made of really good ingredients. Also like most of my favorite foods, the enjoyment of Babette’s Feast is not without labor. With food, you have to invest time and technique; with Babette’s Feast you have to sit through a slow beginning and read subtitles. But it’s well worth it.