Richard Crouse

SYNOPSIS: In “Tony,” a new biopic of late author, television star and chef Anthony Bourdain, a nineteen-year-old Bourdain spends one life-changing summer working at a restaurant in Provincetown, Massachusetts.

CAST: Dominic Sessa, Emilia Jones, Dagmara Domińczyk, Rich Sommer, Stavros Halkias, Leo Woodall, Antonio Banderas. Directed by Matt Johnson.

REVIEW: Long before Anthony Bourdain was Anthony with a capital “A,” author of the bestselling memoir “Kitchen Confidential” and host of “Parts Unknown,” he was a self-described, “a spoiled, miserable, narcissistic, self-destructive and thoughtless young lout, badly in need of a good ass-kicking,” who preferred to be called Tony (“The Holdovers” star Dominic Sessa).

It’s 1975, he’s a nineteen-year-old Vassar student convinced he’s about to be awarded a writing fellowship for a novel he admits is more of an “idea for an idea” than an actual book. When the fellowship falls through, he licks his wounds with a trip to Provincetown, Massachusetts to track down his high school crush Nancy (Emilia Jones) who’s working there at a pizza joint for the summer.

Still trying to pass himself off as a writer, he ends up broke, with a black eye and no prospects until he takes a job as a dishwasher in a seaside restaurant called The Flagship in return for a place to stay with the Chef (Antonio Banderas).

In the kitchen he finds a community of misfits, like the reckless Sal (Leo Woodal), who show him the ropes, as in how to shuck oysters and chase away hangovers with a morning beer or a line or two of cocaine.

A coming-of-age story with a little Sex, Drugs and Oyster Shucking mixed in for good measure, “Tony” is not an imitation of Bourdain’s worldly television persona. As played by Sessa, he’s a self-absorbed hothead, with a loose relationship with the truth, still trying to make his way. Sessa captures Bourdain on the rough edge of adulthood. Out of his depth, personally and professionally, he’s a teenager desperate to be a grown up in the face of one humbling experience after another.

He’s a complex character, equal parts intellect, hubris and underdog energy, a lump of clay not yet molded into the man he would become. Sessa captures him in a soulful performance that doesn’t shy away from the unsavory or obsessive parts of Bourdain’s personality, one that run parallel to the film’s opening quote—”spoiled, miserable, narcissistic, self-destructive and thoughtless young lout,” etc—but adds in just enough charm to make us care about what happens to him.

Unsurprisingly, he is the movie’s beating heart—it is a biopic after all—but director Matt Johnson populates his world with interesting characters to add color to the tale. From the chaos and camaraderie of the kitchen, provided by Woodall, Stavros Halkias as the big-mouthed Stavros, Michael Jibrin as the steady-handed Tyrone and Antonio Banderas as the Chef who changes Bourdain’s life with tough love and buckets of water (you’ll know what I mean when you see the film) to the love interest Nancy, played by Emilia Jones, the film creates an interesting community with a nice dollop of Ptown’s 1970s boho vibe thrown in.

Johnson’s trademark energy and play fulness are fully on display, particularly in the kitchen scenes.

This isn’t like five-star vibe of “The Bear.” With no hope of ever getting reviewed or being awarded a Michelin Star, this kitchen is a home for odd ducks cranking out food for tourists. Johnson’s intimate style paints a vivid picture of the controlled chaos that goes into a lunch or dinner service. He even stages an oyster shucking scene that, for anyone who’s ever been handed a sharp knife and an oyster, will play like a scene from a horror movie.

Given Bourdain’s exalted stature in popular culture, “Tony” could easily have slipped into hagiography. Public sentiment for his unique brand of exploration and pop cultural philosophy still burns bright eight years after his death, but like the man himself, the movie rejects mythology and goes for authenticity over artifice to serve as both a reminder and eulogy of a fascinatingly confounding character.