The Chef's Letter
Meanwhile, the chef’s character is brought out by the contrast with the sous-chef,
who is easy-going and confident. When we first encounter the sous-chef, he saunters
into the office, jacket unbuttoned, open demeanour. He finds small talk easy, moves in,
enquires, and then moves along. Here is a man who hasn’t invested in relationships,
who weighs up potential outcomes quickly and lightly.

Much of the film is made up of looks, glances and glimpses, and their dialogue
equivalences in half-utterances, half-heard. The chef, having determined his plan, is
now faced with the unfamiliar challenge of deciphering relationships amongst his
kitchen staff. Glimpses and half-heard whispers all threaten to thwart his dream.
The Chef's Letter theme,
composed by Stephen Daltry
To play, permit or unblock "active content"


Director’s notes

Like my first film, Honey and Sting, this film is about how desire disrupts harmony.
In The Chef’s Letter, a man’s well-ordered life as master of his domain is disrupted
when he unexpectedly falls in love. He reacts in the only way he knows, planning the
future in his head, presuming he can retain the control he is used to. Committing
feelings to paper may crystallise them for him, but for the declaration to be
consummated, the letter has to be read.

For the chef, writing the letter is a deeply felt authentic act. He takes a long time over
it so as to express himself precisely. He needs the structure of a letter to give his
feelings shape and form -- for this man, writing the letter is the very act of expressing
his love. Yet for a period of time, the letter goes into a state of abeyance represented by
the no-man’s land of the pigeon-hole.