Not to be confused with Claire Denis' outstanding 1988 film of the same
title, Chocolat is a bittersweet fable about the raw joys of human
revival.
Based on a popular novel by Joanne Harris, the film indulges its own delicious, cinematic mysteries in a way few movies understand, while also hewing to a graceful satire about cocoa rapture as a rhyme for emotional liberation. Take a bite of the most exotic chocolate one can imagine, Chocolat reminds us, and life stops for a moment. The ecstatic shock to the tongue briefly overrules our daily burdens of repression and regret.
An exquisite Juliette Binoche portrays Vianne Rocher, a scandal-baiting single mother and spiritual gypsy who blows into a small French village one day in 1959, a portentous north wind at her back. Accompanied by her sweet and lonely young daughter, Anouk (Victoire Thivisol), Vianne transforms a dusty storefront into an elegant chocolate shop, flaunting the community's dreary self-denial and provoking the wrath of an iron-willed mayor (Alfred Molina).
Despite official resistance, Vianne gradually wins over skeptical locals with her intuitive approach to matching customers with the confection they precisely need: a thick, hot cocoa drink stirred with chile spice for a humorless widow (Judi Dench), a bag of chocolate-dusted beans to re-ignite the passion between tired spouses, a rose-colored treat for an abused wife (Lena Olin). In each case, the inarguable splendor of Vianne's candy is like the kiss of a handsome prince upon sleeping beauties.
I know: it sounds like "magic realism" territory yet again. But not this time. Binoche and director Lasse Halstrom (The Cider House Rules) persuade us that while Vianne knows how to pull people's chains, she's hobbled by a dark destiny of her own that makes her a little too aggressive and self-righteous. Moreover, she's blind to the damage of her rootless ways on herself and others. When an Irish river rat (Johnny Depp) drifts into town and begins romancing Vianne -- causing them both to think discomforting thoughts about settling down -- no amount of chocolate can save the heroine from her fears.
But let's face facts. While the story is perfectly pleasant and the key actors tread, albeit marvelously, familiar territory (Molina as the pillar of rectitude, Binoche the emotionally frozen survivor, etc.), what makes this film a film is that it serves up a bountiful variation on the startling wonders of Vianne's shop. What could be closer to the heart of Vianne's mission -- penetrating bruised, encrusted hearts by offering intensely private experiences of chocolate -- than sitting alone in a darkened theater, stirred again by the ethereal/earthy, cool/hot pairing of Binoche and Olin, whose contrapuntal magic was so vital to The Unbearable Lightness of Being? Or feeling a strange thrill about the raven beauty and enigma of supporting player Carrie-Anne Moss (The Matrix), or the inscrutability of young Hugh O'Conor (The Young Poisoner's Handbook)? Hallstrom offers us these gifts in a discrete legend that plays on-screen, as it should, as a dream suitable for sharing or clutching greedily to one's bosom -- like a chocolate box.
Thanks to Jan M for sending this review from Rotton Tomatoes which appeared on theFilm.com website on December 15, 2000.