Enchanting & Irresistible ‘Chocolat’ Is A Winning Tale

There’s no way around it: I had made up my mind on Chocolat before ever setting foot in a theater. How could this film have gotten nominated for Best Picture? Any movie that makes me feel elitist just by the pronunciation of its title (“shaw-CO-la”...please, it’s as if it’s begging to be considered “high art” from the get-go) deserves a bad review just to put it in its place. So imagine the surprise when this doubting reviewer actually walked away after a showing of the film, perhaps not quite gushing its praises, but admittedly overtaken by its charms. This is the kind of easy-to-digest flick that melts all audience resistance like forgotten Hershey’s Kisses left in one’s pants pockets.

Now playing at Bethel Cinema, Chocolat is an enchantingly told fable of a film that relates the tale, set in the 1950s, of a small French village called Lansquenet. This quaint little burg treasures its traditions and casts itself as a haven of tranquility. Yet this façade of serenity is about to be blown wide open by a strong Northern wind that ushers in the arrival of two red riding hood-clad newcomers: chocolatier Vianne Rocher (Juliette Binoche) and her daughter, Anouk (Victoire Thivisol). They aim to open a candy store in town, and it becomes quickly apparent that Vianne will do more than just unveil a chocolate shop, but she’ll open a few eyes to the truth that lies just beneath the placid surface of Lansquenet and its townfolk.

Though the church initially seems the center of this community’s being, the real pulse of the town is driven by its rigidly provincial mayor, the Comte de Reynaud (Alfred Molina). All prim and proper, the Comte is also slyly and effectively manipulative in keeping the traditions (at least those traditions he deems worthy of observing) of his village: he watches over the door to the church and its services, welcoming every entrant (or keeping track of every absentee?); he re-writes the young chaplain’s sermons and holds over him the esteemed and lengthy tenure of his venerable predecessor; he makes sure to unfurl a figurative “unwelcome mat” when a group of wandering gypsies (including Johnny Depp) sails into the village; and he makes evident very early after Vianne’s arrival, particularly when she opens her morsel shop during Lent and acknowledges that she’s a single mother, that he’ll be drawing the battle lines against her as well.

The Oscar-nominated Binoche brings a sense of calming empathy to the accepting Vianne, who is able not only to uncover each customer’s favorite sweet treat, but unwrap the secret behind whatever burden may be presently hindering them, whether it’s a distracted, disdained citizen (Lena Olin) whose lack of self-assurance is due to an abusive husband (Peter Stormare), or a crotchety elderly woman (award-nominated Judi Dench) who is estranged from her stiff daughter (Carrie-Anne Moss) and distanced from her grandson, or a hard-working wife who is having a hard time gaining the notices of her inattentive husband. In each case, Vianne quietly works her magic to let each person come to their own realization of their obstacle and what they must do to overcome it.

Director Lasse Hallstrom proves very clever here as he conveys a very global tale from the setting specific village of Lansquenet. You need look no further than the varied, international cast to get a sense of the universality of his fanciful fable. But perhaps even more impressive here is the appropriately light touch he brings to the film. Hallstrom, who painted his message in his previous film, The Cider House Rules, with an overbearingly heavy swath, here displays a lighter, more whimsical touch and subsequently draws a more even-handed portrait of characters within his little morality play about tolerance, acceptance and inclusion.

Chocolat, rated PG-13 for some sensuality and brief scenes of violence, is a winning tale that rarely misfires in its pursuit of each moviegoer’s secret sweet tooth for sentimentality.