Food in movies is always a symbolic shortcut, and regardless of what other meanings it may have in a given setting, one of food’s unchanging signifiers is the implied work inherent in making the meal. We all saw Babette’s Feast. The chef is a martyr, and the food is the sacrifice. Food is draining. Food is toil. Unless that food is chocolate, and you’re Juliette Binoche. Then food is just a party, and you’re in Chocolat
Chocolat is about a vibrant, nomadic woman who comes to a sleepy French town in the early 1960s and magically provides for all the villagers’ hidden needs, solves their interpersonal problems, solves her own problems, heralds a new age of delight and wonder, and successfully protests some unfair parking legislation. It’s…not a subtle movie. It’s the sort of movie that introduces Johnny Depp as the foxy romantic lead by filming him playing guitar. Behind a wall of fire. (Oh yeah, it happens.) Luckily for foodies, this movie is not particularly interested in deconstructing the intricate religious and socio-cultural politics of small-town France in the post-war era. It’s mostly interested in chocolate, and chocolate is easy to love. Chocolate is, of course, a tidy metaphor for all the sensual, decadent, indulgent, bittersweet life experiences you can think of. Partially this is because, historically, it was difficult to make (it was difficult even to obtain the raw materials). Even when the necessary materials and machines are in place, there’s a certain alchemy involved in producing a smooth, edible product – as we know from endless Iron Chef battles where someone doesn’t double-boil the chocolate properly and ends up with a lumpy mess with two minutes left. Damn you, chocolate! The chemistry of chocolate is tied to pleasure centers, and chocolate itself has taken on an unrivalled romantic context. (I’m just saying, heart-shaped boxes of Valentine’s Day butterscotches are thin on the ground.) Basically, it’s the perfect food to use when you want a sensually robust food-maker to shake things up against the intricate religious and socio-cultural politics of small-town France in the post-war era. And the movie doesn’t hesitate to use this weapon. Some food movies are about Art, or Life, and food is just the vehicle that delivers the lesson. Chocolat is absolutely about chocolate. Juliette Binoche’s Vianne comes to a tiny French hamlet to set up a chocolate shop, and from the opening moments of her working photogenically in the kitchen, the chocolate just never stops. 
This is my second-favorite food moment in the movie. I mean, raise your hand if you’ve ever had hot chocolate so thick a spoon would stand up in it? (Trick question: if you’ve ever had hot chocolate like that, you’re making it again right now, and your hands are busy.) Thus armed, the ridiculously luminescent Juliette Binoche gets down to business solving the religious and familial problems of the townspeople. Luckily for the movie, this village is exemplary-character-actor heavy, which means that even though we should be completely jaded and over it, we’re hoping for things to work out despite ourselves. Gigi deserve loves, dammit! Vianne runs into the most trouble with the Count de Reynaud, who wants to maintain his stranglehold on the community and makes Lent his sticking point, condemning excess in manner and consumption, Vianne. Luckily, the chocolaterie is right across the square from the church, so this symbolic struggle for power can play out in close-ups over and over again! After a series of defeats, the Count, who has starved himself throughout Lent in an attempt to set an example for the populace, breaks into the chocolaterie intending to destroy it. Instead, he straight-up flips out over the goods and goes to town in a serious way. (Anyone who has woken up covered in empty M&M bags and Fererro Rocher wrappers can relate.) When discovered by Vianne, he sincerely repents. He’s instantly forgiven, since Vianne is so hopped up on antioxidants she couldn’t care less about holding grudges, and everyone beats feet to the Chocolate Festival she’s been putting together with no evident planning,
the end! Don’t get me wrong; it’s a sweet film, but this is the most predictable movie of all time. If you don’t know that, just as Vianne’s on her way out the door to another life, she will look in her kitchen and see all her friends working alongside the standoffish villagers to Make the Chocolate Festival Happen, you have never seen a movie before. On the other hand, you can’t beat the visuals, since this movie is about 40% scenes of people cooking: 
This adorable dog, eating an obvious plate of marinara since chocolate and dogs do not mix, theoretically agrees with how delicious the food is. (In other news, he is pretty adorable.) 
Whether or not the narrative appeals, Chocolat certainly gets the job done when it comes to being a foodie film: of all the foodie movies I’ve seen, this one is hands-down the best at making me yearn for whatever’s being cooked. Especially this, my favorite food moment of the movie: 
Hot chocolate and baguette with butter and jam? Doesn’t get much better than that.
