The 1987 Oscar winner for Best Foreign Film is an austere but ultimately joyous fable set on a desolate spit of coastline in northern Denmark, where for sustenance the puritan townsfolk rely first on prayer and afterwards on their daily ration of a thin, brown gruel made from soggy bread crusts and dehydrated flounder. But all that changes with the arrival from Paris of an attractive refugee (the story takes place during the French Revolution) who thanks her benefactors, and tests their strict religious principles, by preparing a sinfully delicious gourmet feast for the entire town. The meal is more than enough to tempt even the most devout ascetic, but of course the dour villagers do their best to look as if they're not enjoying each luxurious mouthful. It's rare these days to find a film so unafraid of simple virtues, without even a trace of malice or cynicism to spoil its bittersweet charm. In the end the gap dividing the villagers' spiritual and earthly appetites is happily bridged, proving again that few things (except perhaps a good movie) are as life embracing as a hearty meal.
Review of Babette's Feast
