Two gourmet horrors serve up human flesh and social satire – but which one truly devours the competition?

In the shadowed kitchens of contemporary psychological horror, 2022 delivered two unforgettable feasts of dread: The Menu and Fresh. Both films skewer modern appetites with cannibalistic twists, blending revulsion and revelation in equal measure. This analysis pits them head-to-head, dissecting their narratives, techniques, and cultural bites to crown a superior chiller.

  • Savage Satire: How The Menu‘s class warfare outshines Fresh‘s intimate dating nightmare.
  • Performance Platters: Ralph Fiennes versus Sebastian Stan in roles that demand delicious villainy.
  • Lasting Aftertaste: Legacy, style, and shocks reveal the ultimate horror dining experience.

A Table Set for Slaughter

The stage for The Menu is Hawthorn, an exclusive island restaurant where elite foodies arrive by boat, expectant of culinary transcendence. Chef Slowik, played with icy precision by Ralph Fiennes, orchestrates a multi-course meal that spirals into accusation and annihilation. Food critic Tyler Ledford (Nicholas Hoult) brings his date Margot (Anya Taylor-Joy), oblivious to the evening’s true menu: a reckoning for gluttonous privilege. As courses unfold – from breadless bread to a haunting “message” dessert – the diners grasp the chef’s vengeful intent, targeting their superficial indulgence in haute cuisine.

Contrast this ensemble frenzy with Fresh‘s claustrophobic duet. Noelle (Daisy Edgar-Jones), weary of vapid dating apps, meets Steve (Sebastian Stan) in a seemingly serendipitous encounter. Their chemistry ignites until a weekend getaway unveils his secret: he harvests human meat from women he lures and imprisons. What begins as flirtatious rom-com devolves into visceral survival horror, with Noelle plotting escape amid severed limbs and freezer horrors. Mimi Cave’s debut feature thrives on the slow-burn intimacy of betrayal, echoing early 2000s indie shocks like Hard Candy.

Both films hinge on the reveal of cannibalism, yet their setups diverge sharply. The Menu broadcasts its eccentricity from the opening credits, with Mark Mylod’s direction favouring wide shots of the volcanic island to evoke isolation and impending doom. Sound design amplifies unease: clinking glasses, sizzling pans, and a droning score build tension like a pressure cooker. Fresh, meanwhile, masquerades as millennial romance, its handheld camerawork and pop soundtrack lulling viewers before the basement plunge.

Production histories underscore these differences. The Menu, penned by Seth Reiss and Will Tracy of The Late Show fame, drew from real celebrity chef scandals and exclusive dining scandals, shot in under three months on location in Washington state. Fresh, adapted from a Black List script by Lauryn Kahn, faced Hulu’s streaming constraints but leveraged Cave’s music video background for rhythmic pacing. Each film’s budget – around $30 million for The Menu, leaner for Fresh – manifests in practical effects: The Menu‘s theatrical kills versus Fresh‘s grisly prosthetics.

Chewing on Class and Consent

Thematic richness elevates both, but The Menu chews deeper into class politics. Chef Slowik indicts the one-percenters who commodify art, his menu a manifesto against pretension. Margot, the outsider sex worker, becomes the evening’s moral fulcrum, her pragmatism clashing with Tyler’s performative fandom. This satire skewers not just foodies but capitalism itself, with scenes like the s’mores suicide evoking Greek tragedy amid gourmet excess.

Fresh pivots to consent and female agency in the Tinder era. Noelle’s arc from passive dater to resourceful fighter critiques predatory masculinity, her meat cleaver rebellion a cathartic flip. Yet its focus remains personal: Steve’s psychopathy stems from evolutionary hunger, a nod to speculative biology rather than societal ills. Jojo Tichky’s Ann, Noelle’s sardonic friend, provides levity, but the film’s intimacy limits broader resonance.

Gender dynamics further differentiate them. The Menu features women like Hong Chau’s Elsa, whose quiet rage explodes in self-immolation, symbolising trapped service labour. Taylor-Joy’s Margot wields sexuality as weapon, seducing Slowik in a power reversal. Fresh foregrounds sisterhood, with Ann’s rescue attempt amplifying Noelle’s isolation, though some critique its queasy rom-com beats post-reveal.

Religious undertones simmer beneath. Slowik positions himself as godlike creator-destroyer, his final “cheeseburger” a fall from grace. Fresh evokes Old Testament harvest myths, Steve’s larder a profane ark. Both exploit bodily violation, but The Menu‘s ensemble allows multifaceted horror, while Fresh excels in subjective terror.

Cinematography and Carnage: Visual Feasts

Visual flair defines their scares. The Menu‘s cinematographer Peter Deming (Scream series) employs symmetrical compositions, framing diners like sacrificial lambs. Lighting shifts from warm amber to stark fluorescents, mirroring escalating chaos. The “chef’s table” scene, with its performative slaughter, uses slow-motion blood sprays for balletic revulsion.

Fresh‘s Pawel Pogorzelski (Midsommar) favours desaturated tones, turning domestic spaces grotesque. The leg-harvesting sequence, with its clinical close-ups on incisions, rivals The Human Centipede in discomfort. Practical effects shine: silicone limbs and corn syrup blood convince without CGI excess.

Soundscapes amplify. The Menu‘s Colin Stetson score blends orchestral swells with industrial clangs, each course punctuated by gasps. Fresh uses diegetic pop – Noelle humming along to The Cranberries – for ironic dissonance, basement echoes heightening claustrophobia.

Mise-en-scène obsesses over food. The Menu‘s dishes, consulted by real chefs, tantalise before horrifying; the “taco” of human finger a grotesque pun. Fresh grounds horror in mundanity: ground meat patties sizzling innocently, then revealed as flesh.

Performances That Stick in the Craw

Ralph Fiennes owns The Menu as Slowik, his whispery menace evoking a deranged Gordon Ramsay. Monologues crackle with fury, eyes gleaming fanaticism. Taylor-Joy matches him, her feral survival instinct shining in the finale’s blaze. Hoult’s unraveling fanboy adds pathos, the ensemble (Hong Chau, Janet McTeer) a chorus of excess.

Sebastian Stan charms then chills in Fresh, his Steve a wolf in hipster clothing. Dual timelines showcase his range: affable suitor to monstrous pragmatist. Edgar-Jones anchors with wide-eyed vulnerability turning steely, Tichky’s quips a lifeline. Yet the two-hander limits scope compared to The Menu‘s banquet.

Direction elevates acting. Mylod’s theatre background stages scenes like plays; Cave’s intimacy fosters unease. Both films demand physical commitment: Fiennes’ knife work, Stan’s prosthetics endurance.

Influence echoes classics. The Menu nods to Ready or Not and Triangle of Sadness; Fresh to Teeth and Raw. Yet originality prevails, their 2022 releases coinciding amid post-pandemic appetite for elite skewering.

Effects and Excess: The Gore Gourmet

Special effects prioritise practicality. The Menu‘s burns and stabbings use squibs and animatronics, the mass immolation a fiery spectacle consulted by pyrotechnics experts. No CGI dominates, preserving tactile horror.

Fresh excels in body horror: amputation rigs by Legacy Effects mimic real surgery, blood pumps ensuring verisimilitude. The pregnancy twist employs subtle prosthetics, heightening emotional stakes.

Challenges abounded. The Menu navigated COVID protocols on a remote isle; Fresh balanced levity with gore. Censorship spared both, though Fresh‘s dating app sponsor raised eyebrows.

Legacy blooms. The Menu grossed $80 million, inspiring memes; Fresh Hulu hit spawned discourse on consent horror. Remakes loom unlikely, their timeliness enduring.

The Verdict: A Clear Winner Emerges

The Menu triumphs. Its broader canvas, razor satire, and Fiennes’ tour-de-force eclipse Fresh‘s potent but narrower thrills. Where Fresh traps you in a freezer, The Menu burns the house down, leaving richer ashes. Both refresh cannibal tropes, yet Mylod’s film feasts on more layers.

For psychological horror fans, The Menu satisfies deepest hungers, proving elite excess the ultimate monster.

Director in the Spotlight

Mark Mylod, born 1965 in Sheffield, England, honed his craft in British television before Hollywood conquests. Educated at High Storrs Grammar School, he directed early episodes of Coronation Street (1982) and EastEnders (1985), mastering soap opera pacing. Transitioning to comedy, he helmed The Royle Family (1998-2000), earning BAFTA nods for observational humour.

Mylod’s US breakthrough came with Entourage (2005-2011), directing 20 episodes including the pilot, blending satire and excess. He elevated Shameless (US, 2011-2016), helming 14 episodes that captured chaotic family dysfunction, earning Emmy considerations. Game of Thrones followed (2014-2016), with four episodes like “The Laws of Gods and Men” showcasing epic scope and shocking twists.

Influenced by Mike Leigh’s social realism and Coen Brothers’ dark comedy, Mylod favours ensemble dynamics and moral ambiguity. Features include Waiting… (2005), a restaurant satire precursor to The Menu, and Motion to Dismiss (1988). The Menu (2022) marks his horror pivot, blending theatre and cuisine critique.

Comprehensive filmography: Cruel Train (1995, TV thriller); Tom Jones (1997, BBC adaptation); Family Guy (various, 2006-); United (2011, Munich disaster docudrama); House of Lies (2012-2014); BrainDead (2016); Chambers (2019, Netflix horror). Upcoming: The Regime (2024, HBO satire with Kate Winslet). Mylod’s versatility cements him as a director of pointed discomfort.

Actor in the Spotlight

Ralph Fiennes, born 22 December 1962 in Suffolk, England, to a photographer mother and farmer father, embodies chameleonic intensity. Royal Academy of Dramatic Art graduate (1985), he debuted on stage with Henry VI (1986), earning Olivier Awards for Schindler’s List (1993) as Amon Göth and Hamlet (1995).

Hollywood beckoned with Schindler’s List, netting Oscar and BAFTA nominations. Voldemort in the Harry Potter series (2001-2011) typecast then transcended. Villainy peaked in The English Patient (1996, Oscar nom), The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014, Golden Globe nom), and The King (2019).

Fiennes excels in ambiguity: The Menu‘s Slowik a career high, blending charm and psychosis. Awards include Tony for Faith Healer (2006), Evening Standard for Antony and Cleopatra (1999). Influences: Laurence Olivier, his theatre roots.

Filmography highlights: Wuthering Heights (1992); Quiz Show (1994); Strange Days (1995); The End of the Affair (1999); Onegin (1999); Red Dragon (2002); Chromophobia (2005); The Constant Gardener (2005); Bernie (2011); Skyfall (2012); The Invisible Woman (2013); The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014); Spectre (2015); A Bigger Splash (2015); Hail, Caesar! (2016); The White Crow (2018); Official Secrets (2019); The Dig (2021). Theatre: King Lear (2023, Broadway). Fiennes remains horror’s sophisticated face.

Craving more cinematic chills? Subscribe to NecroTimes for weekly deep dives into horror’s darkest corners!

Bibliography