“Have you seen the movie Chocolat?” my quiet daughter asked in March.
“No,” I said.
“Well, you should,” she replied.
“You definitely should,” her fiance echoed.
A few weeks ago, I took their advice and the movie entranced me on a variety of levels. It was a feast for the eyes with vivid splashes of color against drab stone walls and interior sets. The small French village was populated with flawed people, more concerned about keeping secrets than about living with their human frailties.
The actors were outstanding with Juliette Binoche, Victoire Thivisol, Alfred Molina, and Johnny Depp, among others, rendering their characters with compassion and charm.
The cholocat shop was magical and delicious, the aroma of dark, rich, clinging chocolate almost palpable. The script unfolded slowly, gently revealing each person’s secrets.
The movie was as enchanting as a fairy tale, as sweet as a children’s book, as real as everyday life, and as otherworldish as Middle Earth and Narnia. Why I waited ten years to watch it, I’ll never know. It left no bitter aftertaste. Instead, it wrapped a sweetness around me that refuses to leave me. Of course, the chocolate cravings the movie aroused still linger, too.
So be warned. Either clear the house of chocolate and hide the car keys before viewing the movie or be prepared to eat every crumb in sight or within driving distance.
Because the eye candy in Chocolat is irresistibly delicious.
