Tony is a biopic of Anthony Bourdain, the late, great chef who, in fact, considered himself a writer first – his memoir Kitchen Confidential has sold in its millions – and a ‘skilled cook’ second. It’s not a Wikipedia entry, filmed. And it’s not hagiographic. It focuses on 1975 and the formative summer he spent washing dishes in Provincetown. He was 19 and the film opens with his own description of himself at that age: ‘I was – to be frank – a spoiled, miserable, narcissistic, self-destructive, thoughtless young lout who needed a good ass-kicking.’ I would say Nigella is also a writer first, skilled cook second, but perhaps any similarity ends there.
Though the film feels authentic, it isn’t true true. In fact, you may sometimes wonder: did that actually happen? The creators insist that, while they have taken liberties and introduced composite characters, it is at least metaphorically true and that it gets to the heart of a troubled soul in search of somewhere to belong. It stars Dominic Sessa, who is terrific. He captures the swagger, the awkwardness, the anger, the vulnerability, the physicality. (I don’t know what Bourdain would make of the film but I don’t believe he’d have objected to Sessa looking so lean, sexy and brooding.)
