Babette's Feast

The opening line, ‘In this remote spot there once lived two sisters, who were both past the first flush of youth. They had been christened Martine and Filippa, after Martin Luther and his friend Philipp Melanchthon.’ is the most intensely Danish thing I think I have ever heard. Nevertheless, I do try not to throw about five star ratings too flippantly because I don’t want to desaturate or undermine the value which I want to imply for what I consider to be the best of the very best films, but I cannot help it for a film like this. I can’t fault it at all. Babette’s Feast is just a pleasure to watch the entire way through. Its modesty both in narrative and in style cloaks a substance which is potently and refreshingly beautiful. At the beginning of the film, I was slightly wary of how much the narrative seemed to be meandering, continually diverging from the main narrative flow into these tributaries for backstories of individual characters; but when seen in context with the rest of the film, it makes total sense and actually ends up being quite brilliant. Babette’s Feast ultimately becomes a little tribute to lost and wordless sentiments, to days gone by and faces of old, to modest piety, to fraternity and fellowship, to forbidden love, to human kindness, and to good fucking food. It’s a quaint film, tender and sober, somewhat dry yet subtly quite wonderfully humorous. And when it comes to Axel’s actual direction and the editing of the film, it’s simply unspoken mastery, imperceptibly, almost bashfully unfolding itself with such tact and intelligence, that when, every once in a while, you go out of your way to actively analyse the craftsmanship and the form at hand, it’s just damn impressive. I do not think I am exaggerating in saying that I have fallen totally in love with this film and everything about it.