The power of food
Food is power. That is established from the outset in Thai film Hunger, recently released on
Netflix Pakistan. We may associate food with warmth and comfort, a feeling of security, a sense
of togetherness when sitting down to enjoy a meal with others. Not so for Chef Paul (Nopachai
Chaiyanam), Bangkok’s most vied gourmet chef who enjoys a cult following among the elites of
Thailand.
The kitchen led by the renowned chef runs on rigor no less than a boot camp, where
cooks are quite literally fighting for their survival. You’ve never known how to utilise time
unless you’ve prepped for service under Chef Paul. You’ve not known precision unless he has
approved the thickness of a slice carrot or the char on a sliver of $400 Wagyu beef.
Paul is not producing food to warm the cockles of the heart of his customers. He’s creating food
to expand his empire, magnify his profile, and make people bow at his feet. At Hunger, if you
can’t cut it, you are eliminated from the crew no matter how long you have been working there.
Unaware of the world of affluence catered by Hunger, young and lanky Aoy (Chutimon
Chuengcharoensukying) tosses noodles in a wok at the window of her father’s greasy spoon. Day in
and day out, she slaves away hitting hot wok to blazing fire making Pad Se Ew. So expertly does
she wield this wok that it seems to be an extension of her long limbs, and it is used as a motif
throughout the film. At the end of the day, her younger sister and her friend huddle over a table
with their favourite and filling bowls of food and share their daily troubles with her. One day,
Tone, a sous chef at Hunger, is seduced by the aroma wafting out of the crowded noodle joint.
One bite of the house special is all it takes for him to approach the chef, Aoy, and leave her with
the enigmatic business card of Chef Paul’s kitchen with her.
Accepting the invitation and the guidance of Tone is the beginning of Aoy making independent
choices for her life. At the upscale kitchen, Chef Paul gives her a dream and ambition to follow.
Aoy is impressionable and lost with nothing much to look forward to before she sets foot in
Hunger. Meeting Chef Paul changes her world completely as she acknowledges the drive she has
in herself to become “something special”. But her world changes at a larger level too. She also
begins to view not just the gourmet industry but society through the eyes of this larger than life
man whose own appetite for power seems irrepressible.
Paul is colder than ice and harder than stone when it comes to caring for clients or people. He’s
the personification of the trite and exasperating maxim ‘it’s not personal, it’s business.’ Whereas
he has made his clientele all the way into the upper echelons of society, serving politicians and
army generals, he holds his customers in secret contempt. Chef Paul does not just serve food to
the rich, he gives them a performance. The height of the spectacle is at the climax of the film when he maneuvers a face-off with Aoy at a lavish costume party of one Madam Milky. After
Aoy serves the first course with flair and flavour, Paul takes the spotlight when a whole carcass
of a cow descends to the floor via a fly system and the chef literally attacks it with a machete and
then flings some seasoning on it with all his might. That’s the dish done. The party gorges on the
meat in some cannibal orgy.
Paul upturns Aoy’s simple worldview when he shows her that his power lies not in his culinary
talent but in the way he sells it. His narcissism stems from being a housemaid’s child who was
caught tasting caviar from her mother’s employers’ fridge. He lived his life hating caviar —“it
tasted like shit” he tells Aoy — and hating the wealthy who subjected him and his mother to
humiliation because of his innocent transgression. Aoy never says it in words but she has lived a
life of being loved, albeit one of meager means. The restaurant her father runs has been in the
family, and the recipes used are her grandmother’s. She has a small but tight-knit family where
relationships matter the most. Aoy is used to having people love the flavour of the food she
makes, not how it looks.
Other than the class conflict that the film displays, there is also the theme of vulnerability versus
accountability when one is in a position of power. Chef Paul’s downfall occurs when he
arrogantly defies the law and hunts an exotic bird in a forest. Yes, pretty much everything in this
film is pregnant with symbolism. Aoy cannot forgive this brutal act and it is the decisive moment
for her to finally part ways with her tormenting mentor.
Even as Paul faces the humiliation of being publicly arrested for this willful transgression, he has
a very Pakistani belief in his enduring clout and fame. I’ll be back, he threatens Aoy, this won’t
stop me. Even as he exits, he reminds her that she will always remain under his shadow,
perpetually unable to beat him — also a familiar workplace sentiment that most Pakistani women
will relate to. The Pakistani viewer of the film, though, may find the denouement a bit incredible
and mildly confusing. Flouting an environmental law is hardly the cause of as much disgrace for
the rich and famous in our country. Elite businesses running under fashionable labels in Pakistan
circumvent tax laws, human rights and labour laws as a routine. Dismantling a high-flying chef’s
career because he defied the protection of wildlife seems like an overreaction to us.
What will Aoy do after she has witnessed the result of avarice in her teacher? Will she reclaim
the fine dining experience and food industry to be a service that makes clients feel happy or will
she too become the master manipulator of capitalist illusions as she was taught? It’s a fine line
between greed and hunger, and director Sitisiri Mongkolsiri constructs it with a tempered hand.
There is much attention to detail in the visual narrative, yet the frames are kept open and direct,
nothing to overwhelm or assault the senses. The complexities of the plot are conveyed with a
grounded clear-sightedness and the moral of the film is presented simply.