Garrett Coleman ‘25
Staff Editor
On a long break at home, there are few things better to do with your folks than go to a movie. But when I scrolled through Flixster, there was not too much grabbing my attention. Based on the cast, The Menu obviously jumped off the screen the most, though I was not too sure my mom would appreciate a thriller with a predictable-seeming plot: Now, the guests become the menu. Nonetheless, we persisted, and I had a wonderful experience. Beyond the solid acting and well-written dark humor, there was something about The Menu that connected with me on a visceral level, and the legal field certainly has something to do with that. A theme that I saw in the movie—alienation from the joy that art provides and the destructive effects of that detachment—has certainly been noticeable in law school, even somewhere as lovely as UVA.
A brief synopsis is in order for those who have not seen The Menu. Nearly the entire film takes place on a remote island that hosts the Hawthorn, an uber-pretentious restaurant in which all the food comes from local flora and fauna. It is staffed by a battalion of skilled chefs loyal to Julian Slowik, played by Ralph Fiennes. They serve a hodgepodge of high clientele: billionaires, movie stars, food critics, and tech bros, who are all equally unlikable, with one exception. That exception is a foodie’s escort, Margot, played by Anya Taylor-Joy (you can probably imagine who gets off the island). After some deconstructed plates resembling food are served, Chef Slowik reveals how much he hates the restaurant’s guests. Chief among their sins is entitlement—they have brilliant food before them but utterly lack appreciation or gratitude for the art that Slowik creates. So, he designs the perfect menu in which they all die in a human s’mores roast. That is, everyone except for Margot, who solves the survival puzzle by finding an old picture of Slowik with a genuine smile while making a cheeseburger. By rekindling that joy and orienting his work back towards a good end, Margot is granted reprieve.
The transformation of Chef Slowik is the first item to dwell on when comparing this movie to law school. In a chronological sense, the audience is confronted with someone who once loved cooking and giving people food. But, as time went on, talent-seeking leeches took hold. Investors demanded changes in the food, critics analyzed his every pinch of salt, and foodies broke his meals down as if art were only the sum of its parts. If none of this sounds familiar, I am prepared to drop out. At law school, nearly all of us are beholden to our creditors. They determine what careers we envision and when we can start families. Standing in the way of that future are legal employers who tempt us with unending success, so long as we beat the people sitting next to us. And it is so easy for legal writing to drag you down into the formulaic and drab. I cannot help but imagine that everyone at this law school has a “cheeseburger photo,” a moment when they were writing or arguing and overcome with a spiritual joy. If you’re like me, those moments drove you to law school. But it is undeniable that there is something in this profession that comes for that joy if you are not on guard.
A hindrance to Chef Slowik’s ability to find joy in cooking is certainly the guests that he now serves. Somehow, they vary from overanalyzing to under-analyzing every meal, while still converging on entitlement. While I have not yet had legal clients, I imagine that working with them can be similar. Legal thinking and advocacy are special. We know that, yet it remains difficult to convey its uniqueness even to family and friends who are outside the profession. Now, a client may just want a job to be done or a result to be met while ignoring the skillset that you have tirelessly developed. Of course that is frustrating!
In the movie, this alienation results in the violent outburst that serves as the main plot point. Before the final roast, we see the violence begin with the suicide of sous-chef Jeremy. His motive, beyond introducing the third course, is that he will never be great like Chef Slowik. I do not make this comparison lightly. It is impossible to ignore, though, that depression,anxiety, and alcoholism run rampant throughout the legal field. If a contributing factor to these mental health problems is a feeling of inadequacy, I would not be surprised. When you have an institution with as much talent as this one, it can be hard to think that greatness is ever within reach.
The point to my tenuous comparison is that the alienation and violent responses are silly. It is silly to hate the people who criticize you when you know better, to think that being good but not great is a terminal illness, or to lose sight of the joy that brought you to law school before even graduating. But, like many silly things, they are easy to do. I personally would like to follow the path of Margot: Identify those moments of joy and pursue them within reason, stopping short of the artistic martyrdom of Chef Slowik. This is feasible because so many of the things we do here are really damn fun. That rush of adrenaline when you track the professor’s reasoning on a cold call, the satisfaction of creating a great analogy in a memo, or the joy of telling a nerdy joke about a torts case to the only people on the planet who will understand. When combined with the art of advocating for a client who really needs your help, I think it is possible to make a delicious cheeseburger. Would 10 out of 10 recommend this movie—no deep thoughts are required to enjoy some good dark comedy.
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jxu6ad@virginia.edu