Movie: Mio’s Cookbook
Romaji: Mio-Tsukushi Ryouri-Chou
Japanese: みをつくし料理帖
Director: Haruki Kadokawa
Writer: Kaoru Takada (novel), Itaru Era, Kana Matsui, Haruki Kadokawa
Producer: Shigeji Maeda
Cinematographer: Nobuyasu Kita
Release Date: October 16, 2020
Runtime: 131 min.
Distributor: Toei
Language: Japanese
Country: Japan
When Mio was young, she lost her parents in a great flood and also became separated from her best friend Noe. Afterwards, Mio found her talent in cooking and eventually became a cook. Meanwhile, Noe has become an oiran (high-ranking courtesan).
Based on novel series “Mi wo Tsukushi Ryoricho” by Kaoru Takada (published from May, 2009 to August, 2014 by Haruki Bunko).
Filming began August 21, 2019 and finished late September, 2019.
Movie’s theme song is “Chirite Nao” performed by Aoi Teshima.
Related titles (drama specials):
Mi wo Tsukushi Ryoricho (TV Asahi / 2012)
Mi wo Tsukushi Ryoricho (TV Asahi / 2014)
Related titles (drama series):
Mi wo Tsukushi Ryoricho (NHK / 2017)
Related titles (movies):
Mio’s Cookbook | Mio-Tsukushi Ryouri-Chou (2020)
Director:
Haruki Kadokawa
Writers:
Itaru EraHaruki KadokawaKana Matsui
Stars:
Honoka Matsumoto, Nao Honda, Mayumi Wakamura
There’s nothing I love more than a film about food. I love almost everything about them. The mouth-watering shots. The ever-present nostalgia. The way they so easily lend themselves to philosophical ideas. It’s almost always a joy, even when the movie itself is mediocre. So, when I read the premise of Haruki Kadokawa final feature, “Mio’s Cookbook”, I had high hopes. A food film/period drama by a legendary producer and highly respected veteran director? On paper, it’s a perfect hybrid. Perhaps due to the fact that it was Kadokawa’s first big directorial effort since 1990 (“Heaven and Hell”), but against all odds, though, this adaptation of the popular series of novels by Kaoru Takada failed to stir the same feelings in me that so many other food films I’ve seen, and after an overlong runtime of two hours, whimpers its way to an unimpactful stop.
Mio and Noe are two young girls living in Osaka during feudal-era Japan, and best friends. When a flood devastates their region, the previously inseparable girls lose everything: their homes, their parents, and each other. An orphaned Mio is discovered and taken pity on by a Missus, and grows up to become a talented young chef making a name for herself in the Edo region. When word of her delectable dishes reaches Noe, who had been found and raised as a high-profile courtesan, she reaches out through a messenger, and the two reconnect through food.
There’s nothing inherently terrible about “Mio’s Cookbook”, it panders along its narrative path, ticking all the necessary boxes along the way. But it ultimately comes off as a bit plain and absent a lot of personality and ambition. The characters themselves are likable enough but lean too heavily on forced sentimentality, never offering enough emotional stock to the audience to really latch on to. While at first I wanted Mio and Noe to be reunited, when it finally happened it didn’t move me in the way that I hoped. And frankly, it boils down to the two-dimensionality of the characters and their relationships with each other, including a contrived romantic interest for Mio that leads nowhere interesting, fast. None of this is the fault of our leads, Honoka Matsumoto and Nao, who do well with what they have been given.
Beyond the so-so narrative, “Mio’s Cookbook” is most disappointing in the uninspired way it presents its food to the audience. The tiny glimpses that we are treated to do indeed look delicious, and are beautifully arranged. Unfortunately, we’re only afforded a single, few second-long shot of each dish, barely giving us any time for our eyes to digest it. More so, there’s hardly a sequence in the movie wherein you actually see the process of making the food. It’s like watching a basketball game where they show the ball going through the hoop but cut out the play itself. It may seem like an inconsequential complaint to make, but imagine Ang Lee’s “Eat Drink Man Woman” (1994), Yim Soon-rye’s “Little Forest”(2018) , or Naomi Kawase’s “Sweet Bean” (2015) without those integral scenes showing these mouth-watering dishes coming together.
What the film does have going for it is a sweet, Ghibli-Hisashi-inspired soundtrack by Aoi Teshima, a largely piano-led set of melodies that bring a soft and nostalgic element to the equally feather-light narrative. And still, Mio’s Cookbook ends on an anti-climactic bum note, and never really amounts to its potential. I’m holding out hope for a stomach-rumblingly good period-food film, but this just ain’t it.