Taste review: An arresting display of images in motion, until they stop making sense

Lê Bảo’s first feature film is a disturbingly muted piece of abstract cinema

A still from the film

Taste

STORY: When going gets tough for Nigerian footballer Bassley, he moves in with four women into an empty house in Saigon, where they cook and live together in a strange set up.

Watch the trailer here  

REVIEW: “I couldn’t keep you on the team. It was a hard decision.” These are the first two lines spoken after 20 minutes into the film. Preceding that are an array of images in motion that may (or may not) help you conjure up what the story is all about. The opening scenes of Lê Bảo’s evocative film Taste are a work of art. The dingy sights of a stilted Vietnamese slum, a man with his head sunk in a salon sink, two people pumping hot air into a huge blue balloon, blood trickling down a woman’s head - all these tastefully give you the impression of what can be termed a rare gem of slow cinema in muted tones.

You feel sorry for footballer Bassley (Olegunleko Ezekiel Gbenga), a native of Nigeria but now lives in Saigon, who fails to make it to the team. He has injured his leg and is now limping. His life is sad and not many can relate to his plight. Only until he moves in with four middle-aged women (Khuong Thi Minh Nga, Le Thi Dung, Nguyen Thi Cam Xuan, Vu Thi Tham Thin), a peppy piglet and a swordfish into a mostly vacant community house. There’s plenty of food in the kitchen, a boxy television set in the living area, but no mattresses on the bunk beds, and they all are naked.

What follows is a strange display of cinematic work. With no clothes on, they meticulously cut vegetables and meat, cook them with care and sit together to eat like a family. Then there’s karaoke; three undressed women ride a bike inside the house, while Bassley makes out with the fourth one in the adjacent room. One may be hauntingly reminded of ‘comfort women’ during World War II. Mournfulness anchors the storyline, with each character reeling under deep pain. Bassley constantly remembers his nine-year-old son, whom he had left behind to pursue his dream of becoming a footballer, while one of the four women speaks of her own lost husband and son. They now live a strange half-life which, in a way, explains their impassiveness.

Every scene is strikingly blank and the plot outlandish. If it was meant to be sensual and intimate, the narrative fails to drive home the point. In the overpowering stillness of the film, naked human flesh and subdued conversations don’t do much to help the script stay afloat. The only relief is the baby pig, who is adored and taken care of by all. The inflated hot air balloon that never escapes the room conveys more than the film itself.

VERDICT: Way too abstract for the average cinephile, Taste will only appeal to a niche group of art lovers who find solace in the impressionistic and unsaid. If you aren’t one among them, give it a pass.

*Reema Gowalla is an independent arts and culture journalist, who mostly writes about theatre and independent cinema, and sometimes also delves into culinary heritage.

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