A half-baked serving of good ideas poorly prepared. Anya Taylor-Joy reheats the same character she's been plating for years now, a huge-eyed hypercompetent, hyperfashionable, omniscient Mary Sue. We never feel she is in danger at any point. There is some weak sauce attempt to give her a Clarice Starling flavor, but it goes nowhere, as do some interesting ideas about the destruction of art. Intriguing questions are raised and left to dissipate in the air, so the whole thing lacks depth and in the end flattens like a frightened souffle. Frankly, when you're presented with a piece of art that skewers the rich but features millionaire performers in a slick package (although the explosion at the end is pretty sad SyFy-level CGI), send it back. The courses veer from attempts at horror to attempts at satire, but we are never frightened nor enlightened. The whole thing passes through you like the thin gruel of an overlong SNL sketch.
Review of The Menu
