Warning: Spoilers ahead.
“Tony” is as refreshing as a pot of ice-cold seawater to the face.
Director Matt Johnson, known for his mockumentary style, embraces a more deliberate visual language for his biopic on Anthony Bourdain’s early years. The film was released Aug. 21 and depicts the late James Beard Award-winning chef in his transition to adulthood.
Wanting to escape his strained relationship with his mother, a 19-year-old Tony (Dominic Sessa) follows his high school crush, Nancy (Emilia Jones), to Provincetown, Massachusetts without her knowledge. He picks up work as a dishwasher at a local restaurant to sustain himself under the guise of a writing fellowship he didn’t win, all with the hopes of getting together with her. While the film doesn’t reach the contemplative heights of some of Johnson’s earlier works like “The Dirties,” its unabashed authenticity gives a familiar coming-of-age story a level of intimacy – one that meditates on how we choose who we become.
Based on the early chapters of Bourdain’s memoir “Kitchen Confidential,” Johnson connects with the more vulnerable side of Bourdain’s youth. It’s a biopic, but not in the flashy “Michael” (2026) or “Bohemian Rhapsody” sense. It’s not an origin story for the prolific figure; rather, it’s a personal dialogue with the life of another human being, something you rarely see in the popular zeitgeist.
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More than anything, Tony’s relationship with his mother is the film’s emotional center. Though she only makes a few appearances, her presence haunts the entire film, informing every action Tony takes. He still seeks her approval even though he insists he doesn’t need it. He doesn’t go to Provincetown because he wants to be with Nancy; he leaves home because he wants to prove his mother wrong. In a Freudian sense, Nancy represents everything he missed in childhood – something more complicated than a teenage crush. She’s smart, mirroring his mother’s occupation as a copy editor, and is equally unattainable – fueling the attraction even more.
It feels as if Johnson is finding the similarities between Bourdain’s life and his own. He noted in a recent promotional podcast for A24 that for most of his childhood, he misunderstood his relationship with his own mother, mistaking her stern demeanor for indifference. Johnson adapts this dynamic directly into the film. It’s the pinnacle of what can be done with adaptation, turning a personal reckoning into something audiences can unconsciously recognize in themselves.
Unable to find reassurance at home, Tony is lost in the world. He’s pathetic, struggles with his own shortcomings and is still learning how to be a person. As a result, he moves his search for purpose outside himself with two main role models: Sal and the chef.
Sal (Leo Woodall), the brash and confident oyster shucker, acts as one possible route for Tony’s life. In one scene, the two attend a party at Nancy’s house. In the time it takes for Tony to fail to talk to Nancy, Sal charms another woman. Tony looks up to Sal because he sees him as someone who can achieve what he wants, not realizing that he harbors his own issues. He frequently lashes out, is addicted to drugs and disappoints one of the few people who cares about him: the chef.
The enigmatic chef (Antonio Banderas), whose name is , offers a different model. His life is one of discipline and responsibility. He values punctuality, attends church every Sunday and takes his casual restaurant exceedingly seriously. But despite his structured lifestyle, he doesn’t trust anyone in his life enough to even know his name. With the way Tony rejected his family, this is just as much a plausible future for him as Sal’s ineptitude. But instead of choosing between the two, Tony chooses to forge his own path.
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Tony’s decision to introduce the lobster Thermidor special is what sets him on the path of self-determination. After a series of compounding lies, Tony is obligated to come up with a Friday special to impress Nancy and back up his bluff. He takes initiative and convinces the chef to launch the dish, which ends up being a success. It’s the first time we see Tony passionate about something. It represents everything he’d been craving: a dish that makes the girl he likes happy, that makes up for feeling unloved his entire life and that proves to himself that his life is worth something. It’s the first step toward becoming the person he’d always wanted to be.
As a screenwriting device, the use of compulsive lying is a work of genius on Johnson’s part. The more Tony lies, the worse his situation gets. His dishonesty with others represents his inability to be honest with himself. Each lie begins as an attempt to perform a more desirable version of himself: a successful writer, a knowledgeable cook, a confident young man. The one time he tells the truth, everything works out for him. It’s clever storytelling, for one domino of falsity to lead into the other, only for the truth to knock them all down.
The film’s editing is also one of its strongest attributes. Many shots intentionally linger on Tony simply sitting somewhere. They’re longer than natural, but they work to leave the viewer contemplating alongside him. The use of montage is also inspired. Tony’s seen having fun with Sal in one sequence and training under the chef in the next. Usually, they’re framed as a means to an end, either made intentionally short or as devices to skip forward in time. But here, the audience is allowed to live in those moments. It’s a testament to Johnson’s direction and ability to subvert the known conventions of rhythmic relations.
It’s too soon to tell if Dominic Sessa is a one-trick pony. Two movies aren’t enough to track a typecast, but he’s playing a very similar role to his one in “The Holdovers” – an angsty teen with family issues in 1970s East Coast America. He’s really good at giving an unfettered, naturalistic performance, but it leaves the audience wondering if that’s all he can do. But it helps that he bounces off the expert Antonio Banderas as a foil. Banderas has such a restrained performance. He moves with such intention but doesn’t come off as calculated, depicting the self-assurance that Tony is still chasing.
The film’s largest drawback, however, is its sound editing. While the environmental sound design breathes life into the New England beach town, some lines are either recorded poorly or difficult to decipher under the tapestry of foley. The chef in particular is hard to understand. It’s clear they wanted a more naturalistic performance from Banderas, but it comes at the cost of missing crucial lines of dialogue. However, it’s not nearly enough to take away from the film’s potency.
All in all, Johnson proves himself in his first foray into Hollywood filmmaking. From stylistic flourishes to emotional storytelling, it’s no question that the Canadian director is here to stay. His unflinching instinct to lean into a more personal angle is what sets the biopic apart from the rest.
The film is all that and a clambake – a surefire hit this summer.
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