“Tony,” the new, crowd-pleasing, highly fictionalized movie about young Anthony Bourdain, takes its inspiration from a Bourdain quote that’s offered on the opening title card: “I was — to be frank — a spoiled, miserable, narcissistic, self-destructive and thoughtless young lout, and badly in need of a good ass-kicking.” Bourdain was, of course, a famous chef and food writer, and this movie uses the narrative device of “the summer I grew up” to concoct an often funny tale of male misadventures and life-changing awakenings. The premise is phony, but the film is executed with wit and some first-rate performances, so it mostly goes down pleasurably.
The real Bourdain was a complicated man. Surrendering to a love of cuisine, he abandoned his formal academic education at Vassar to enroll in a cooking school, and eventually he worked at some fine New York restaurants. Bourdain also had ambitions to be a writer. After a failed stab as a novelist, he scored big with “Kitchen Confidential,” a quasi-scandalous, behind-the-scenes memoir about what happens in restaurant kitchens. He parlayed that success into a career as food writer and television personality. His life included lots of drugs, high living, and some emotional challenges. Bourdain committed suicide in 2018, an apparently impulsive act brought about, in part, by a tempestuous love affair.
Some of the incidents and details that Bourdain relates about an extended stay in Provincetown in “Kitchen Confidential” become building blocks for the movie’s largely made-up storyline. “Tony” opens with Bourdain (Dominic Sessa) trying to boast and lie his way into a summer writing fellowship. The year is 1975. When the grant application is denied, he follows a crush to Provincetown, where she’s working for the summer. (The love interest, very loosely based on Bourdain’s wife Nancy, is played by a beguiling Emilia Jones.) Broke, Bourdain gets a job as a dishwasher at a seafood joint and becomes part of a boisterous kitchen crew. The restaurant’s owner (Antonio Banderas, called “Chef” in the film) starts to mentor him. Tony’s interest in food blossoms. A third act crisis arrives right on time. Our hero learns some life lessons and changes for the better.
This was my second encounter with biographical material about Bourdain. A few years ago, in an attempt to understand his tragic death, I read a biography of him, “Down and Out in Paradise.” But that turned out to be a vile book, a hatchet job, with all of Bourdain’s behaviors viewed in the worst possible light. The author even critiqued Bourdain’s choice of suicide methods.
Even so, there’s probably a grain of truth in that negative portrayal of Bourdain, because in “Tony” — although viewing him more affectionately and humorously — he also comes across as a jerk. Young Bourdain is arrogant and never utters a truthful sentence. The film suggests that Tony’s obnoxious need to impress resulted from attempts to garner favor from a chilly mother. (In truth, Bourdain had stated that his parents were loving.) The incessant lying and insensitive behavior might be unbearable without Dominic Sessa. The actor doesn’t spare us from Bourdain’s unpleasantness, but there’s a troubled, anxious air about him. The movie needs this horribly self-centered guy; otherwise, the narrative arc might be too false to endure without significant eyerolling. Instead, we laugh when this boor becomes the butt of several jokes and routines. He deserves it.
Sessa is not the only standout. Leo Woodall, a sexy “it boy” of the moment, plays Sal, a jokey, swaggering, drug-using member of the restaurant crew. Sal screws around, snorts coke, shoots heroin, punches out randos, and commits robberies, all without a major comeuppance or much guilt. He injects a dose of danger into the movie. I also loved Banderas’s work as the chef who takes Bourdain under his wing. He plays a man of principle, tough but kind, yet you never feel he’s a cliché. Well, maybe you do, except Banderas’s warmth gets you past it.
The role leads me to a problem I had with “Tony.” Chef is a single man, living in Provincetown, so I thought “gay,” right? He gives Bourdain shelter, advises him, takes him to church. I almost waited for Chef to make a pass at Tony. Yet Chef’s personal life is never spoken about. It’s not easy to believe Antonio Banderas, of all men, would lack for a relationship or sex life. Since the character is largely a screenwriter’s fantasy, I understand the dodge, but it illustrates a big issue with the film.
Except for a brief nod, this movie — filmed on location in the queerest place in America — erases the Provincetown LGBTQ+ community. Gay people don’t eat at these restaurants. They don’t hang out at Spiritus, the iconic pizza joint in the middle of town. They don’t walk down the streets. They don’t go to the beach. I get that Bourdain’s cohorts would largely be heterosexual. But nothing queer in P-town?!? I loved seeing the town on the screen; it’s one of my favorite places on earth. But I hated the way the movie made it all straight and nothing but. (And, yes, Provincetown was very gay in 1975.)
The director of “Tony” is Matt Johnson, who also made “Nirvanna The Band The Show The Movie,” which came out earlier this year and in which he co-starred. He has an irreverent, antic personality and style. In its way, “Tony” is no more truthful about its subject than “Michael” was about Michael Jackson, but it’s easier to take, since Anthony Bourdain isn’t as big a cultural figure as Jackson, and the movie certainly doesn’t sanctify him. “Tony’s” storyline is conventional, but at least its approach has some juice. I just wish the movie hadn’t made Provincetown into something it isn’t and wasn’t. That probably won’t bother most viewers, but it bothered me.
“Tony” Directed by Matt Johnson. Written by Todd Bartels, Lou Howe, Matt Johnson and Matthew Miller. Starring Dominic Sessa, Antonio Banderas, Emilia Jones, Leo Woodall and Stavros Halkias. Rating: R. Running Time: 1h 46m.
