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.

Burnt , in the end, isn’t burnt at all; it’s far from cooked. It tells no endearing story. And whatever it does tell doesn’t awe. A food critic says of Smith’s first cook in London: It fails to shock. She might as well have been writing about the film.

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.