The summer Tony became Anthony
What happens when you find out that a deceased internationally beloved icon was actually the epitome of a pretentious teenage dirtbag? In Anthony Bourdain’s case, you start to love him even more.
Tony, released by A24 in August, centers on the life of Anthony “Tony” Bourdain (portrayed by Dominic Sessa), the now-departed celebrity chef and food reviewer. At the film’s inception, Tony is an incoming sophomore at Vassar College and the diametrical opposite of everything Bourdain is admired for; he is a selfish, immature prick with zero compassion or self-awareness. Chasing after his college crush Nancy, Tony ends up spending his summer working at a restaurant, the Flagship, in the quaint Provincetown, Massachusetts.
Within the first 20 minutes of the film, Tony quickly develops as a crowd unfavorite to the audience when he repeatedly hits on the Flagship’s bartender, resulting in him getting kicked out. After finding Tony passed out in the street, the owner and head chef, referred to simply as “Chef,” portrayed by Antonio Banderas, lets him sleep on his outdoor hammock. Tony works out a deal to stay on his hammock as long as he works as a dishwasher in the restaurant.
Through a friendship with his tattooed womanizing coworker Sal, portrayed by Leo Woodall, Tony begins to loosen up and gain confidence—confidence that is somewhat drug induced. Well. Very drug induced.
Bourdain is very candid about his drug use in his bestseller memoir, Kitchen Confidential. In the movie, we see Tony begin to involve himself with heavier drugs. Leo offers him cocaine, which ends up becoming a tool the awkward lanky college student uses to overcome his low self-esteem. This habit is heavily frowned upon by Chef, who forces Tony to attend mass with him on Sunday while the restaurant is closed.
The film follows the lows, and even lower lows, that haunt Tony as he continues to make awful decision after awful decision. His life evolves quite literally into a dumpster fire. It is incredibly painful to watch, but you still can’t look away. Viewers watch helplessly as Tony bitches at his parents, abandons his friend, pathologically lies, and continues to manic pixie dream girl his one female friend. However, through many trials and tribulations, we begin to see Tony blossom into a slightly more recognizable version of the Anthony Bourdain the world has come to remember today.
The hallmark of this film is the way in which they decide to represent Bourdain. Rather than providing a broad overview of his life, Tony hyperfocuses on one summer during Bourdain’s life. Marketed as a biographical account of Bourdain’s life, I expected to watch as he worked his way up from dingy kitchens to becoming a travel food blogger, but I was surprised when the movie never moved past this one experience. Tony stands out because it dares to do what a biopic rarely ever does: represent its subject in an extremely authentic and gritty manner, no matter how unpleasant.
Unlike Michael’s grand depiction of the talent and undeniable prowess of Michael Jackson, leaving viewers in awe and invigorating his fanbase, Tony makes you wonder how that could possibly be the same guy. As a 13-year-old watching CNN with my dad, Bourdain was a ground-breaking pioneer in overcoming racist and closed-minded perceptions of non-European food, specifically in Asia. He was an incredibly humble and open-minded soul, extremely grateful for the opportunity he had to do the work he did. Then, the world was struck with grief when he took his own life.
There is a quote that went viral on TikTok regarding Bourdain that I think about quite often. It reads something like, “As a kid I never understood why Bourdain would leave the world when he got to experience so much of it. Then I got older, traveled, and realized no matter where you go, you can’t escape yourself” (@hotandsobbing on Tiktok). I’ve suffered from extreme depression for the entirety of my college experience. It intensifies my feelings immensely, especially when combined with the guilt of making mistakes, hurting others, and regretting my actions. Watching 19-year-old Tony be a seemingly D1 fuckup, and then knowing the person he went on to be, felt like someone was shaking me by the shoulders, saying “Look at how small being 20 can make you feel.” Sometimes it feels silly to watch a movie and take it so deeply, but I think that speaks to the kind of person Bourdain was. He made people feel seen.
I tried to read up on all the inaccuracies of the movie after watching, but honestly, I don’t really care about the details. It doesn’t matter if the name of the restaurant was different, or that he and Nancy were already dating. I left that theater feeling like the world is bigger than the mistakes I’ve made in my two short decades of being alive. I would like to think that is what Bourdain would have wanted his life to be remembered for—it is never too late to start again.
INDY
Minhal Nazeer is a junior in the SFS majoring in Culture and Politics. She just sprained her ankle so feel free to drop off some Sour Punch Bites (no substitutions) to McCarthy 217 while she laments her life’s decisions in her twin XL.
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