By Lindsay Traves | Film | October 4, 2024 |
By Lindsay Traves | Film | October 4, 2024 |
Tearing flesh, bubbling cauldrons, wild flames, blood, sweat and tears—cooking, itself, might just be a form of witchcraft. Asking us to contemplate that possibility is House of Spoils, a culinary fairytale that lets a woman’s place be a professional kitchen.
Ariana DeBose leads as an up-and-coming star chef recruited out of her prestigious kitchen as a second in command to develop her own dining concept in upstate New York. Constantly being asked how much she can handle and pushed to the brink by the cryptic whims of a quiet investor and his charming middleman (Arian Moayed), she is forced to assert herself in a space she had to claw her way into. The circumstances of her newly acquired restaurant are mysterious, as are the ones surrounding her predecessor, but she is undeterred in the face of it and makes gastronomical magic out of whatever she can forage.
Though a ruthless critic who uses words like “derivative” (can you IMAGINE?) and having to use regular old groceries to make a fine dining meal (can you IMAGINE?) are in her way, our chef is only really rocked when her senses begin to betray her. Seeing creepy crawlies in all her food and sensing a beckon from a shadowy woman in the woods, she becomes disillusioned by the overdone plating she gravitated towards and instead tries to pull pure flavor from the mysterious produce arising from the yard’s muck. The exercise isn’t always easy or fruitful, but she’s soon able to craft a menu even the most ruthless of restaurant critics must enjoy. Even if it’s at the expense of her own sanity.
House of Spoils is often any old haunted house horror story but it’s surprising in its comedy and willingness to engage in realities of witchcraft. Food naturally lends itself to gross out gags and the ones contained within this movie feel knowing. It’s impossible to watch Barbie Ferreira’s changing reaction to a can full of brown, wormy sludge without accepting the film’s awareness of its jokes. Watching Moayed react to said sludge is like seeing people consume Bender’s lint ball filled with the “essence of pure flavor,” and it’s unexpected levity in a film disguised as a grim fable.
House of Spoils also subverts expectations by engaging with feminism and witches’ persecution without ever wearing that on its sleeve. The chef was forged in a hyper-masculine workplace with a do-or-die mentality, something she can’t help but bring with her to the new gig. As her wet-behind-the-ears hopeful protégé, Lucia (Ferreira) has to manage the volatility of a woman of color boss who toggles between wanting to raise women up and put them in their place for not catering to the patriarchy’s version of success. It’s a surprisingly relatable and deep statement on the glass ceiling and closing doors behind us that comes to a head when Lucia calls out the macho bulsh** of her mentor.
Then, humbled by her protégé and her setting, the chef gives herself to the spooky chanting woman growing plants with unpredictable qualities which allows her a way out of the restaurant’s oppressive grip. It’s all fun, gross, and a bit of something to watch. The vast and creaky setting, the flames as light sources, and the intense food styling make for a specific mood welcome for evening autumn viewing. The scares aren’t always consistent, and neither is the tone, but giving way to DeBose’s hammy performance (her… chewing the scenery…her cheesy delivery…) is the best way to enjoy what this movie is serving up, even though the rest of the cast doesn’t match her energy.
House of Spoils doesn’t have contemporaries in other kitchen-set terrors like The Menu or The Bear, but it springs from their similar trying kitchen settings to make something akin to Practical Magic or Simply Irresistible if Mike Flanagan made them while Gordon Ramsay was yelling at him. It’s gnarly foley and gooey concoctions are what make this dish feel equally like gross-out fest as it does an adaptation of something by Henry James.
House of Spoils lands on Prime Video on October 3, 2024