This delicious, enticing fable is, in my opinion, broadly about the battle between the abundant pleasures of nature and artificially-imposed, dogmatic thought systems that fear nature and its power and use a form of civilization as an attempt to keep nature at bay (where the mere fact of being born in a body is to be born in sin). But just as the winds blow in the seeds that can take root and ultimately reclaim structures that have become crystalized (I'm thinking, for example, of how the jungle in Cambodia completely overtook the abandoned temple of Angor Wat), the revitilizing spirit of Veanne blows into an insular French village and sends tendrils of sensual pleasure into the lives of the people, breaking apart completely the stone and mortar that had been keeping the spirits of the villagers in a Dark Age prison.
Just like when men get together to drink beer or housewives attend a "kaffeklache" (I have no idea how to spell it), it is the "klache" that is the point, not the "kaffe"; chocolate was the enticement and the bonding agent for the much-needed revitalized human relationships that the chocolate, in the expert hands of its practitioner, Veanne, could engender. And what an enticement the chocolate was, with its deep powers that almost seem like magic, yet the true magic was the spirit and heart of Veanne who dispensed the chocolate like a prescription and was following a mysterious thread of nature and a spiritual commitment to bring with the wind these seeds of healing. "This is your favorite," Veanne would say, secure in her ability to see the cherished desires that resided hidden in each person's heart. And in her hands, this was like a Tibeten prayer and a greeting: "I recognize and salute the greatness that is within you." Only with the fluid complexity of "Roux," Veanne's love interest who was also an unsettled spirit like her, was it harder to uncover or to realize what was the dream in both of their hearts, to find out what was "his favorite". I know with names like "Roux" (a complex blending of flavors) and "the Compte de Reynard" (a "fox"), there was some hidden communication in the marvelous names that makes me regret that I don't know French better.
Veanne is like an elemental plant spirit; she carried on her journeys practically no possessions, and yet, upon alighting on fertile ground, some imprint within her would react with the soil and environmental elements to produce seemingly from nowhere a complete and beautiful chocolate shop overflowing with preColumbian artifacts and an infinite variety of chocolate treats in every shape of candy, drink, cake, or other form imaginable--indeed, a veritable jungle of chocolate emerging from out of only two seed-pod suitcases.
One amazing and ironic undercurrent in the film's battle between Catholic morality and the natural, perhaps pagan pleasures was symbolized by the chocolate itself. Chocolate did not exist in Europe prior to the discovery of the New World in 1492. It was one of the many transformative agricultural products discovered and brought back to the Old World as a result of the Spanish invasions that intended to plunder gold and Catholicize the native inhabitants. Here, now, the chocolate comes in like a form of Montezuma's revenge, invading a Catholic stronghold to retake the natural spirit and, as a form of commerce, get THEIR gold--the chocolate shop was a business, after all. So, what goes around, comes around, as the North Wind might say.
Among all the beautiful details in this movie, and the movie was as much of a visual a feast as the chocolate that was in the shop, one of my favorites was the fascinating color of Veanne's hair, which I can only describe as "chocolate mixed with chili peppers," a rich, delicious brown mixed with red. Whoever was the design genius who came up with that exact shade of hair dye deserves a special award--she or he captured completely the flavored essence of the story. Hair artificially colored for "vanity", a "work of the devil", for sure, reflective of the energetic, fiery overtones lying in wait among the sweet allure of the chocolate itself. Without even knowing what Veanne was about, the Mayor probably took one look at her and immediately began to sweat. Heat and fecund passions arose in him that only the cold shower of abstinence could combat. Is this a battle he could win? Chocolate...who can resist it?
Just like when men get together to drink beer or housewives attend a "kaffeklache" (I have no idea how to spell it), it is the "klache" that is the point, not the "kaffe"; chocolate was the enticement and the bonding agent for the much-needed revitalized human relationships that the chocolate, in the expert hands of its practitioner, Veanne, could engender. And what an enticement the chocolate was, with its deep powers that almost seem like magic, yet the true magic was the spirit and heart of Veanne who dispensed the chocolate like a prescription and was following a mysterious thread of nature and a spiritual commitment to bring with the wind these seeds of healing. "This is your favorite," Veanne would say, secure in her ability to see the cherished desires that resided hidden in each person's heart. And in her hands, this was like a Tibeten prayer and a greeting: "I recognize and salute the greatness that is within you." Only with the fluid complexity of "Roux," Veanne's love interest who was also an unsettled spirit like her, was it harder to uncover or to realize what was the dream in both of their hearts, to find out what was "his favorite". I know with names like "Roux" (a complex blending of flavors) and "the Compte de Reynard" (a "fox"), there was some hidden communication in the marvelous names that makes me regret that I don't know French better.
Veanne is like an elemental plant spirit; she carried on her journeys practically no possessions, and yet, upon alighting on fertile ground, some imprint within her would react with the soil and environmental elements to produce seemingly from nowhere a complete and beautiful chocolate shop overflowing with preColumbian artifacts and an infinite variety of chocolate treats in every shape of candy, drink, cake, or other form imaginable--indeed, a veritable jungle of chocolate emerging from out of only two seed-pod suitcases.
One amazing and ironic undercurrent in the film's battle between Catholic morality and the natural, perhaps pagan pleasures was symbolized by the chocolate itself. Chocolate did not exist in Europe prior to the discovery of the New World in 1492. It was one of the many transformative agricultural products discovered and brought back to the Old World as a result of the Spanish invasions that intended to plunder gold and Catholicize the native inhabitants. Here, now, the chocolate comes in like a form of Montezuma's revenge, invading a Catholic stronghold to retake the natural spirit and, as a form of commerce, get THEIR gold--the chocolate shop was a business, after all. So, what goes around, comes around, as the North Wind might say.
Among all the beautiful details in this movie, and the movie was as much of a visual a feast as the chocolate that was in the shop, one of my favorites was the fascinating color of Veanne's hair, which I can only describe as "chocolate mixed with chili peppers," a rich, delicious brown mixed with red. Whoever was the design genius who came up with that exact shade of hair dye deserves a special award--she or he captured completely the flavored essence of the story. Hair artificially colored for "vanity", a "work of the devil", for sure, reflective of the energetic, fiery overtones lying in wait among the sweet allure of the chocolate itself. Without even knowing what Veanne was about, the Mayor probably took one look at her and immediately began to sweat. Heat and fecund passions arose in him that only the cold shower of abstinence could combat. Is this a battle he could win? Chocolate...who can resist it?