A24’s Tony, a biopic about celebrity chef Anthony Bourdain, directed by Matt Johnson, and starring Dominic Sessa, Antonio Banderas, and Leo Woodall, sets the film’s tone with a candid opening quote from the man himself:
“I was—to be frank—a spoiled, miserable, narcissistic, self-destructive and thoughtless young lout, badly in need of a good ass-kicking.”
The film pulls no punches in bringing Bourdain’s rebellious, yet endearing spirit to life.
Taking place in the summer of 1975, Tony is a coming-of-age film that follows a young Bourdain working a humbling job at The Flagship, a local seafood restaurant in Provincetown, Massachusetts.
I was cautious going into this film. The estate-sanctioned, sanitized biopic is a genre I have become disenchanted with. While such films may satisfy die-hard fans, they come at the expense of depth. Tony is thankfully more tasteful than that. It rejects sensationalism. Instead of recreating scenes from No Reservations or Parts Unknown, we spend time with a Bourdain we do not know and see his struggles with identity and direction.
Tony faces a blow to his ego and retreats to a job he sees as beneath him. It is endearing to watch him fumble with oyster shuckers, break dishes, and refill ketchup bottles, slowly developing confidence. At times, I worried the film veered too sappy, but the drugs, alcohol, and overall debauchery that pervade the kitchen, counter the film’s summery atmosphere with a distinct griminess. Tony (Sessa) is also a really bad person. He is arrogant, pretentious, and constantly lies to those around him to evade accountability. He is so consistently manipulative that I was genuinely surprised by the conventional choice to redeem him in the final act. This is refreshing, as he is neither glorified nor demonized, but presented as an insecure young man.
Dominic Sessa’s performance keeps this unpleasantness in check. Sessa does not do an impression of a fully formed Bourdain. He is neither witty nor eloquent. He is awkward, largely unpopular among his peers, and unironically carries nunchucks. Sessa manifests this physically. He slouches, stumbles, and looks withdrawn. However, as Tony grows, he becomes more recognizable, particularly in a scene where he skulks around the harbour of Provincetown smoking a cigarette in a leather jacket.
Subtlety is Sessa’s strength. He is especially judicious in how he portrays Bourdain’s struggle with mental illness. These moments of vulnerability are not Easter eggs for fans well-versed in his biography. They feel less like scenes of a tortured artist, and more like uncomfortable glimpses of someone unwell.
Supporting actors Antonio Banderas and Leo Woodall complement Sessa’s performance. Banderas plays “Chef,” a stoic yet warm mentor to Tony. More importantly, as he guides Tony through farms and fish markets, he captures the spirit of food and travel. Leo Woodall plays Sal, a brutish, charismatic line cook at The Flagship who is a bad influence on Tony. The film—maybe a bit heavy-handedly—drives home that he is the personification of Bourdain’s vices.
In Tony, Toronto-based director Matt Johnson departs from his distinct style. His prior projects are marked by improvisation and handheld camera work that give his films a naturalistic feel. Tony is far less raw. Johnson opts for steadier, wider shots, reserving his style for a handful of frenetic scenes in the tight confines of the kitchen. Still, his organic philosophy comes across in his choice to film on location in Provincetown, which makes for many scenic shots. Tony is a test of Johnson’s aptitude for conventional filmmaking that highlights his versatility.
Enough time has passed since Bourdain’s passing for him to become mythologized. As such, the timing of this film is apt. Through its nuanced depiction, Tony demystifies its subject for audiences, reminding them that they did not, in fact, know the chef.