A French Impressionist of Tuscan Wine
By Steve Herte
A
good shot of culture is always welcome in New York. When I entered the Village
East Cinemas they didn't appear ready to receive anyone, much less a home-printed
ticket but I waited patiently and was served.
The
theater itself didn't have more than 25 rows of seats and the screen was placed
rather high but it was comfortable. I thought there was a problem with the
sound system but when the previews started and the 10 of us were nearly blasted
through the back wall, I changed my mind. The volume on the movie was good –
thank the powers that be. Dinner was a unique occasion, but I say too much.
Read on.
Renoir (Goldwyn,
2012) Director: Gilles Bourdos. Cast: Michel Bouquet, Christa Theret, Thomas
Doret, Vincent Rottiers, Michele Gleizer, Romane Bohringer, & Laurent
Poitrenaux. Color, 111 minutes.
The
year is 1915 and the place is Cagnes-sûr-Mèr on the Côtes d’Azur in the south
of France. Far away World War I is in its second year. A beautiful young
red-headed girl named Andrée Heuschling (Theret) rides her bicycle along
twisting turning roads to the home of Pierre August Renoir to become his latest
(and greatest, per the master) model. She sees a young boy running in the
wooded area nearby and calls to him. He introduces himself as Claude (Doret)
“but everyone calls me Coco” and an orphan. “My mother is dead and my father
might as well be.” She asks about Monsieur Renoir and he takes her to the
kitchen entrance of the house. There she meets the four women who run the
house, cook the food and tend to “The Boss.”
Pierre
Renoir (Bouquet) is chair-bound with a crippling case of rheumatoid/arthritis,
but he continues to paint even though he must bandage his hands against the
skin irritation the work causes. We learn that Claude is the youngest of his
three sons. Jean (familiarly Jeanot) is fighting in the war and Pierre is
somewhere else. Pere Renoir longs for the day all three are home again.
Andrée
poses nude for Renoir and proves to be the inspiration for several paintings,
even though she later complains about the low payment and the feeling that she
is prostituting herself. However, this is not obvious when she’s “working.” She
wants to be an actress in American movies. When Jean Renoir (Rottiers) returns
home to recuperate from an ugly wound to his right leg (from which the field
doctor had to remove two inches of bone) she becomes attracted to him. Jean
wants to make movies and promises to help her achieve her dream. But, after his
leg heals and he’s able to walk again he decides to re-enlist in the air force
(after taking her for a ride in a plane) to “help my comrades.” There is much
emotion, she stays away from her posing job, Renoir thinks he’s lost his best
model and the women of the house are glad that there won’t be any more of her
tantrums.
As
you might guess, Renoir is a French film with English
subtitles.
The
scenery and photography is lush and beautiful – so beautiful I wanted to stop
the movie several times to create portraits. The cinematography itself is art.
The costuming and make-up is flawless and impeccable down to the tiniest
detail. Renoir himself looks like he just stepped out of one of his self-portraits
and several of his paintings are re-enacted wonderfully by the cast. At an hour
and fifty-one minutes the movie is a little long, but this does not detract
from its sheer loveliness.
The dialogue is best appreciated if one has a
working knowledge of French (although conversations between Andrée and Jean are
oft times mumbled) and has many memorable lines. Andrée tells Jean “he paints
me way too fat,” and Jean responds, “he paints me to look like a girl.” The
women of the house explain to Andrée, “a woman comes to this house as a model
and becomes a maid or comes as a maid and becomes a model.” When Jean offers
black paint to Renoir’s palette Pierre says, “We Renoirs do not paint the world
black. There is too much poverty and misery for that.”
At
the end of the film before the credits we learn that Renoir dies on December 3,
1919, Jean becomes a noted filmmaker, Pierre an actor, Claude takes up ceramic
painting and Andrée (whose acting career never happens) dies in poverty. Though
definitely not a movie for children, Renoir is a dreamy,
wonderful insight into a great artist’s mind and his relations with family and
staff while at the same time being visually stunning. Rating: 4 out of 5 Martini glasses.
East 12th Osteria
197 First Avenue (12th Street) New York
This
two-month-old Northern Italian bôite occupies the northwest corner of 1st
Avenue and 12th Street in New York’s East Village. The charming exterior floor
to ceiling windows, which all open to the street, and the Italian details on
the menu were what attracted me to this 14-table gem.
Having miscalculated my
time by 15 minutes I completely missed the front door and walked in through one
of the windows, surprising no one (thank goodness). The two servers, one an
enthusiastic young man, and the other a slinky-slim goddess in form-fitting
black crowned with cerise hair and sporting a key tattoo in the center of her
back (her picture is on the website) both greeted me warmly and offered me my
choice of tables (only one was occupied at the time).
I
chose one halfway from the back and facing both walls of windows so that I
could watch the street and pedestrian traffic outside. A note about the East
Village, though no longer being the hippie capital of New York City, I was
still a bit over-dressed by wearing a necktie. Noticing that they did not have
a full bar (no liquor license yet) I asked the young man to bring the wine list
and stated my preference for full-bodied reds.
Speaking of reds, the only color
accent in this airy space were the tomato red banquettes and matching shades on
the swag lights. I had not had a cabernet in a while and he suggested the
Tuscan Prelius and offered a taste, since they had a bottle open. A good nose,
mouth-filling flavor, accents of fruit and a little spice and I had ordered a
bottle. The surprise came with the year – 2011! I thought for sure this wine
was at least three years old.
A
server brought a glass of water and the breadbasket while I perused the two-page
menu. Three shapes of bread were in the basket, rolls, thin breadsticks and
paper-thin crisps I later learned was Rosemary/Sea Salt bread, usually made on
a grill to look like sheet music with notes. It was delightful. My server
explained that their kitchen is probably the only all-convection (and thus,
green) one in New York and therefore has no grill (or any open flame), so the
“notes” didn’t show on the bread.
Back
to the menu: The categories were listed as Boccocini per Cominiare (Starters), Antipasti, Insalata, Zuppe (Appetizers,
Salads, Soups), Primi, (first
courses/pastas), and Secondi (Main
courses). I decided on a three-course dinner once my server assured me the
pastas can be made in smaller portions. My starter was one of the things that
first attracted me, Fiori di Zucca
Croccanti – crispy battered zucchini flowers stuffed with sheep ricotta.
The light batter on the outside was translucent and delicate and the flavor
sweet from the cheese and a little tart from the zucchini. (This sure isn’t
Tony’s Di Napoli, Joe! This is classy Italian.) There were only two, which made
me remember them as a possible side dish later on.
The
second course was Gnocchetti Imperiale di Granchio – potato
pasta mixed with shredded crabmeat in a creamy chili pepper/tomato/brandy
sauce. These half-inch cylinders melted on contact in the mouth and started a
party there that I didn’t want to stop. The rolls provided the perfect medium
to get every last drop of that beautiful orange sauce. When asked how I liked
the dish, I jokingly told them it was revolting.
My
main course was L’Antra e L’Arancia – Duck in orange sauce
served two ways (sliced and on the bone) with Mandarin orange slices as
garnish. The sliced duck was tender and juicy and medium rare (perfect) and
surrounded by a moat of sauce. The meaty leg proved the maxim “the darker the
meat, the sweeter the treat” and was sinfully delicious. The wine wove through
the entire meal like gold threads in a sari. Upon finishing the main course I
was no longer considering another order of zucchini flowers. I was ready for
dessert. My server brought a pre-dessert of Minierdises –
little soft cookies and miniature chocolate cannoli. They were gone in no time.
(Girls,
hold on to your boyfriends!) The Fondente al Cioccolato – a
“molten” chocolate cake the consistency of a fine soufflé erupting with dark chocolate
sauce and sided by homemade almond ice cream – was pure dining eroticism. Why
the ice cream was pea green, I’ll never know. My server told me they sell the
ice cream to go. I was amazed.
Then
a double espresso and a glass of after-dinner fortified wine and my experience
was complete. I congratulated both servers on two months and wished them many
more promising a return visit some time in the future and left East 12th
Osteria very happy.
Also, check out the unique sink in the restaurant's little restroom.
Finally, an enormous wisteria in full bloom climbing up a three-story brownstone near the restaurant caught my eye.
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