Burnt

There are ghosts to be slayed, debts to be paid, beatings to be had, but however much Bradley Cooper's character insults and assails, a helping hand and at least three people in love with him are never too far away.

Most films often portray the process of making food as a romanticized procedure, and we're always told how cooking can make on intrinsically happy. So it's fascinating to see people in the restaurant work in furious technique. If the rest of the film had the same nervous energy and pace of these sequences, it would have been far more watchable.

Sure, there are shots of sole being filleted, scallops being diced, shallots caramelizing in a pan, garlic mashed potatoes being whisked and filet mignon steaks browning on a hot plate while being sauced over. But Wells' Burnt puts the focus on Jones (Cooper) and his tantrum-laden temperament that's apparently justified by the fact that he can cook better than anybody.

While the food and the actors involved looked good and come close to creating a gastronomic orgasm, the angst-ridden dynamics of the drama don't manage to steer clear of melodramatic flourishes and dissentious familiarity of genre staples in it's relapse and recovery route. And yeah, Jones is presented as someone gifted and terribly behaved and it's not a sight that can be forgotten easily..even with all that heavenly gastronomical window dressing on display!

Even though the movie has a lot going for it, Burnt's biggest problem is probably the story. The writers introduce too many subplots and characters, which seem unnecessary. If they had just focused on Adam and his goals, the movie would have had a stronger impact.

The screenplay is padded up with oft-seen images and scenes in films of this genre, making this film bland. Endless close-ups of artisanal plates of food fussily prepared, frenetic kitchen scenes in which orders are shouted and pans sizzle. And, of course, frequent dish-smashing tantrums and tirades by the master chefs.