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Adrià and Acurio Premiere a Movie They Hope Will Change the World

Adrià and Acurio Premiere a Movie They Hope Will Change the World

Catalan chef Ferran Adrià, the man behind elBulli, and Peruvian chef–restaurateur Gastón Acurio introduced filmmaker Jesús María Santos's 70-minute documentary Perú Sabe — the title means both "Peru knows" and "Peru tastes" — to America at an invitation-only screening on June 11 at the United Nations in Manhattan.

The two chefs also star in the film, which follows them around Peru, visiting farmers, chefs and cooks, and above all culinary students — of whom, we learn, there are currently an astonishing 80,000 studying around the country. That's one in 375. Peru has always had a reputation for some of the finest food in South America — "Wealthy families around the continent often have Peruvian chefs as a status symbol," an Argentinean friend once told me, "just like people from elsewhere in Europe once had French chefs" — but mightn't this be a little excessive?

Apparently not. Peru, we learn from the film, has an unparalleled wealth of raw materials from both land and sea and extraordinary biodiversity. Its cuisine has roots in ancient indigenous cuisines but is also rife with influences from not just Spain but also Italy, Japan, China, the Middle East, and Africa. Though there are contemporary chefs who worship at Adrià's ovens, traditional cooking is apparently thriving, being rediscovered and disseminated. It is at heart a simple cuisine. One man featured in the film, who has a small cevichería, is shown dicing up immense, glistening-fresh sole and mixing it with what looks like not much more than bits of chile and wisps of onion — yet he says "I would be really happy if I could think of one more ingredient to take out of it."

Perú Sabe is a little stagey in places, and it's repetitious (it could easily lose 15 or 20 minutes and get all the same points across), but it's an engaging look at a genre of cooking that remains little known in this country — so far. It has ambitions to be much more than that, though. The film's sub-title in English is "Cuisine as an Agent of Social Change". In Spanish, it's considerably more to the point: "La Cocina, Arma Social" — "Cuisine, Social Weapon". The point made throughout by Adrià and Acurio — and seconded by such international celebity chefs as René Redzepi, Michel Bras, Massimo Bottura, Dan Barber, and Alex Atala (of D.O.M. in Saõ Paolo, ranked number 4 on this year's list of "The World's 50 Best Restaurants"), captured when they were in Lima last year for a gastronomic festival — is that teaching people, and especially the young, to understand and appreciate as well as be able to cook the food unique to their culture can help improve health and nutrition, and even social conditions and the environment as a whole.

Can it really? The point can certainly be argued — as indeed it recently has been by Thomas Keller, among others. But Adrià and Arcurio seem to be convinced. "Peru is as good as it gets right now," said Adrià after the screening. "This is unique." Acurio spoke of "the power that food has to change things" and declared that "Peru can be the world leader in integrating food and social change." In the brief question-and-answer period after the film, a Bolivian man asked about the place of quinoa in the scheme of things, noting that the UN had declared 2013 "The Year of Quinoa." Acurio responded, "Before we speak of quinoa in the larger sense, we must find how to use it in our own countries. For centuries, our governments have been trying to combat poor nutrition by bringing in pasta, canned foods, and things like that, instead of turning to quinoa, one of the most nutritious foods we know." Another questioner, nationality unrevealed, brought up the question of those 80,000 culinary students. Could there conceivably be enough work for all of them? he asked. "I will take the example of Japanese food," replied Acurio. "As Ferran will tell you, in Spain 20 years ago, there were almost no Japanese restaurants. Now they are everywhere. If there are not enough jobs cooking Peruvian food in Peru, then we must take Peruvian food to the world."


‘Sergio Herman: Fucking Perfect’: Berlin Review

The title says it all: Michelin 3-star chef Sergio Herman is Fucking Perfect, or at least he tries to be. But as every foodie film from Ratatouille to Jiro Dreams of Sushi to Jon Favreau&rsquos Chef has shown, running a first class restaurant is no walk in the park, especially when it&rsquos a gastronomic powerhouse ranked among the top 50 in the world.

Documenting the daily grind of planning, prepping, cooking, plating and serving a dauntingly complex array of dishes on a nightly basis, and revealing the heavy toll it takes on Herman&rsquos life at home, director Willemiek Kluijfhout provides an intriguing fly-on-the-wall expose that&rsquos more passionate than informative, but still finger-licking good. Premiering in Berlin&rsquos Culinary sidebar &ndash where Kluijfhout&rsquos Mussels in Love played two years ago &ndash this well-lensed feast should land reservations on the various food networks popping up in Europe and elsewhere.

Herman was raised in the apartment above his dad&rsquos small-town seafood restaurant, Oud Sluis (Dutch for &ldquoOld Sluice&rdquo), located near the northern coast of the Netherlands. He took the place over in 1990, quickly transforming it into one of Europe&rsquos premier eateries, with a propensity for elaborate recipes inspired by both his father&rsquos cooking and the molecular haute-cuisine concoctions of elBulli&rsquos Ferran Adria.

For over 25 years, Herman slaved away at the stove, barking orders at his kitchen help like a sergeant breaking in a bunch of new recruits. This is how we first encounter the chef: in the thick of a dinner rush, surveying his busy staff as he meticulously sculpts various unidentified food objects onto a small plate. Later, we see Herman driving home late at night, his wife and four children already fast asleep.

The endless toil continues throughout the opening reels, and it becomes increasingly clear that the high-octane job is running 43-year-old Herman into the ground. And then, shocker: He decides in 2013 to shut Oud Sluis down, hoping to spend more time with his family while pursuing less taxing enterprises. The news causes an outcry among food critics and foodies, but Herman has made his choice.

It&rsquos at this point that Kluijfhout, who&rsquos so infatuated with her subject that her film sometimes feels like an hagiography smothered in emulsified onions, manages to capture something akin to true emotion. As Herman makes a speech on Oud Sluis’ final night, he nearly chokes up, and you can suddenly see what it’s like to have your life&rsquos work disappear in the course of an evening, even if the decision was yours.

But not so fast: No sooner is Herman lounging around the house and looking prodigiously bored, then he decides to open up a brand new establishment &ndash a massive bar-restaurant located in an old church in Antwerp. It looks like a more releaxed joint than his 3-star affair, but still requires hours of preparation, meetings, samplings, and of course, more driving back and forth. Herman simply can&rsquot stop.

That&rsquos the moral of the story, and in that sense Sergio Herman: Fucking Perfect lives up to its name, revealing a man obsessed with culinary perfection and willing to sacrifice much in his life to achieve it. Yet while this idea is made abundantly clear, it would have been helpful if Kluijfhout had explained what makes Herman such a great chef: we see the persistence and passion, but never understand what he&rsquos brought to the table in terms of contemporary cuisine. (The only full dish we see him prepare is the classic Langoustines a la nage, and even that is only shown in a few brief fragments.)

In the filmmaker&rsquos defense, there are plenty of decent cooking shows out there, and what Kluijfhout does offer up in comparison is something that&rsquos much more visually arresting. With DP Remko Schnorr (The Pervert&rsquos Guide to Cinema) shooting on Super-16mm, the &ldquofood porn&rdquo close-ups have a rich, contrasted look filled with color and grain, bringing out the beauty of Herman&rsquos work during his long tenure at Oud Sluis. His creations there look more like pieces of art than something you can actually eat &ndash sensational dishes you can admire but unfortunately, can no longer taste.

Production companies: Trueworks, VPRO
Director: Willemiek Kluijfhout
Producer: Reinette van de Stadt
Director of photography: Remko Schnorr
Editor: Saskia Kievits
Composer: Trentemoller
Sales agent: Fortissimo Films


‘Sergio Herman: Fucking Perfect’: Berlin Review

The title says it all: Michelin 3-star chef Sergio Herman is Fucking Perfect, or at least he tries to be. But as every foodie film from Ratatouille to Jiro Dreams of Sushi to Jon Favreau&rsquos Chef has shown, running a first class restaurant is no walk in the park, especially when it&rsquos a gastronomic powerhouse ranked among the top 50 in the world.

Documenting the daily grind of planning, prepping, cooking, plating and serving a dauntingly complex array of dishes on a nightly basis, and revealing the heavy toll it takes on Herman&rsquos life at home, director Willemiek Kluijfhout provides an intriguing fly-on-the-wall expose that&rsquos more passionate than informative, but still finger-licking good. Premiering in Berlin&rsquos Culinary sidebar &ndash where Kluijfhout&rsquos Mussels in Love played two years ago &ndash this well-lensed feast should land reservations on the various food networks popping up in Europe and elsewhere.

Herman was raised in the apartment above his dad&rsquos small-town seafood restaurant, Oud Sluis (Dutch for &ldquoOld Sluice&rdquo), located near the northern coast of the Netherlands. He took the place over in 1990, quickly transforming it into one of Europe&rsquos premier eateries, with a propensity for elaborate recipes inspired by both his father&rsquos cooking and the molecular haute-cuisine concoctions of elBulli&rsquos Ferran Adria.

For over 25 years, Herman slaved away at the stove, barking orders at his kitchen help like a sergeant breaking in a bunch of new recruits. This is how we first encounter the chef: in the thick of a dinner rush, surveying his busy staff as he meticulously sculpts various unidentified food objects onto a small plate. Later, we see Herman driving home late at night, his wife and four children already fast asleep.

The endless toil continues throughout the opening reels, and it becomes increasingly clear that the high-octane job is running 43-year-old Herman into the ground. And then, shocker: He decides in 2013 to shut Oud Sluis down, hoping to spend more time with his family while pursuing less taxing enterprises. The news causes an outcry among food critics and foodies, but Herman has made his choice.

It&rsquos at this point that Kluijfhout, who&rsquos so infatuated with her subject that her film sometimes feels like an hagiography smothered in emulsified onions, manages to capture something akin to true emotion. As Herman makes a speech on Oud Sluis’ final night, he nearly chokes up, and you can suddenly see what it’s like to have your life&rsquos work disappear in the course of an evening, even if the decision was yours.

But not so fast: No sooner is Herman lounging around the house and looking prodigiously bored, then he decides to open up a brand new establishment &ndash a massive bar-restaurant located in an old church in Antwerp. It looks like a more releaxed joint than his 3-star affair, but still requires hours of preparation, meetings, samplings, and of course, more driving back and forth. Herman simply can&rsquot stop.

That&rsquos the moral of the story, and in that sense Sergio Herman: Fucking Perfect lives up to its name, revealing a man obsessed with culinary perfection and willing to sacrifice much in his life to achieve it. Yet while this idea is made abundantly clear, it would have been helpful if Kluijfhout had explained what makes Herman such a great chef: we see the persistence and passion, but never understand what he&rsquos brought to the table in terms of contemporary cuisine. (The only full dish we see him prepare is the classic Langoustines a la nage, and even that is only shown in a few brief fragments.)

In the filmmaker&rsquos defense, there are plenty of decent cooking shows out there, and what Kluijfhout does offer up in comparison is something that&rsquos much more visually arresting. With DP Remko Schnorr (The Pervert&rsquos Guide to Cinema) shooting on Super-16mm, the &ldquofood porn&rdquo close-ups have a rich, contrasted look filled with color and grain, bringing out the beauty of Herman&rsquos work during his long tenure at Oud Sluis. His creations there look more like pieces of art than something you can actually eat &ndash sensational dishes you can admire but unfortunately, can no longer taste.

Production companies: Trueworks, VPRO
Director: Willemiek Kluijfhout
Producer: Reinette van de Stadt
Director of photography: Remko Schnorr
Editor: Saskia Kievits
Composer: Trentemoller
Sales agent: Fortissimo Films


‘Sergio Herman: Fucking Perfect’: Berlin Review

The title says it all: Michelin 3-star chef Sergio Herman is Fucking Perfect, or at least he tries to be. But as every foodie film from Ratatouille to Jiro Dreams of Sushi to Jon Favreau&rsquos Chef has shown, running a first class restaurant is no walk in the park, especially when it&rsquos a gastronomic powerhouse ranked among the top 50 in the world.

Documenting the daily grind of planning, prepping, cooking, plating and serving a dauntingly complex array of dishes on a nightly basis, and revealing the heavy toll it takes on Herman&rsquos life at home, director Willemiek Kluijfhout provides an intriguing fly-on-the-wall expose that&rsquos more passionate than informative, but still finger-licking good. Premiering in Berlin&rsquos Culinary sidebar &ndash where Kluijfhout&rsquos Mussels in Love played two years ago &ndash this well-lensed feast should land reservations on the various food networks popping up in Europe and elsewhere.

Herman was raised in the apartment above his dad&rsquos small-town seafood restaurant, Oud Sluis (Dutch for &ldquoOld Sluice&rdquo), located near the northern coast of the Netherlands. He took the place over in 1990, quickly transforming it into one of Europe&rsquos premier eateries, with a propensity for elaborate recipes inspired by both his father&rsquos cooking and the molecular haute-cuisine concoctions of elBulli&rsquos Ferran Adria.

For over 25 years, Herman slaved away at the stove, barking orders at his kitchen help like a sergeant breaking in a bunch of new recruits. This is how we first encounter the chef: in the thick of a dinner rush, surveying his busy staff as he meticulously sculpts various unidentified food objects onto a small plate. Later, we see Herman driving home late at night, his wife and four children already fast asleep.

The endless toil continues throughout the opening reels, and it becomes increasingly clear that the high-octane job is running 43-year-old Herman into the ground. And then, shocker: He decides in 2013 to shut Oud Sluis down, hoping to spend more time with his family while pursuing less taxing enterprises. The news causes an outcry among food critics and foodies, but Herman has made his choice.

It&rsquos at this point that Kluijfhout, who&rsquos so infatuated with her subject that her film sometimes feels like an hagiography smothered in emulsified onions, manages to capture something akin to true emotion. As Herman makes a speech on Oud Sluis’ final night, he nearly chokes up, and you can suddenly see what it’s like to have your life&rsquos work disappear in the course of an evening, even if the decision was yours.

But not so fast: No sooner is Herman lounging around the house and looking prodigiously bored, then he decides to open up a brand new establishment &ndash a massive bar-restaurant located in an old church in Antwerp. It looks like a more releaxed joint than his 3-star affair, but still requires hours of preparation, meetings, samplings, and of course, more driving back and forth. Herman simply can&rsquot stop.

That&rsquos the moral of the story, and in that sense Sergio Herman: Fucking Perfect lives up to its name, revealing a man obsessed with culinary perfection and willing to sacrifice much in his life to achieve it. Yet while this idea is made abundantly clear, it would have been helpful if Kluijfhout had explained what makes Herman such a great chef: we see the persistence and passion, but never understand what he&rsquos brought to the table in terms of contemporary cuisine. (The only full dish we see him prepare is the classic Langoustines a la nage, and even that is only shown in a few brief fragments.)

In the filmmaker&rsquos defense, there are plenty of decent cooking shows out there, and what Kluijfhout does offer up in comparison is something that&rsquos much more visually arresting. With DP Remko Schnorr (The Pervert&rsquos Guide to Cinema) shooting on Super-16mm, the &ldquofood porn&rdquo close-ups have a rich, contrasted look filled with color and grain, bringing out the beauty of Herman&rsquos work during his long tenure at Oud Sluis. His creations there look more like pieces of art than something you can actually eat &ndash sensational dishes you can admire but unfortunately, can no longer taste.

Production companies: Trueworks, VPRO
Director: Willemiek Kluijfhout
Producer: Reinette van de Stadt
Director of photography: Remko Schnorr
Editor: Saskia Kievits
Composer: Trentemoller
Sales agent: Fortissimo Films


‘Sergio Herman: Fucking Perfect’: Berlin Review

The title says it all: Michelin 3-star chef Sergio Herman is Fucking Perfect, or at least he tries to be. But as every foodie film from Ratatouille to Jiro Dreams of Sushi to Jon Favreau&rsquos Chef has shown, running a first class restaurant is no walk in the park, especially when it&rsquos a gastronomic powerhouse ranked among the top 50 in the world.

Documenting the daily grind of planning, prepping, cooking, plating and serving a dauntingly complex array of dishes on a nightly basis, and revealing the heavy toll it takes on Herman&rsquos life at home, director Willemiek Kluijfhout provides an intriguing fly-on-the-wall expose that&rsquos more passionate than informative, but still finger-licking good. Premiering in Berlin&rsquos Culinary sidebar &ndash where Kluijfhout&rsquos Mussels in Love played two years ago &ndash this well-lensed feast should land reservations on the various food networks popping up in Europe and elsewhere.

Herman was raised in the apartment above his dad&rsquos small-town seafood restaurant, Oud Sluis (Dutch for &ldquoOld Sluice&rdquo), located near the northern coast of the Netherlands. He took the place over in 1990, quickly transforming it into one of Europe&rsquos premier eateries, with a propensity for elaborate recipes inspired by both his father&rsquos cooking and the molecular haute-cuisine concoctions of elBulli&rsquos Ferran Adria.

For over 25 years, Herman slaved away at the stove, barking orders at his kitchen help like a sergeant breaking in a bunch of new recruits. This is how we first encounter the chef: in the thick of a dinner rush, surveying his busy staff as he meticulously sculpts various unidentified food objects onto a small plate. Later, we see Herman driving home late at night, his wife and four children already fast asleep.

The endless toil continues throughout the opening reels, and it becomes increasingly clear that the high-octane job is running 43-year-old Herman into the ground. And then, shocker: He decides in 2013 to shut Oud Sluis down, hoping to spend more time with his family while pursuing less taxing enterprises. The news causes an outcry among food critics and foodies, but Herman has made his choice.

It&rsquos at this point that Kluijfhout, who&rsquos so infatuated with her subject that her film sometimes feels like an hagiography smothered in emulsified onions, manages to capture something akin to true emotion. As Herman makes a speech on Oud Sluis’ final night, he nearly chokes up, and you can suddenly see what it’s like to have your life&rsquos work disappear in the course of an evening, even if the decision was yours.

But not so fast: No sooner is Herman lounging around the house and looking prodigiously bored, then he decides to open up a brand new establishment &ndash a massive bar-restaurant located in an old church in Antwerp. It looks like a more releaxed joint than his 3-star affair, but still requires hours of preparation, meetings, samplings, and of course, more driving back and forth. Herman simply can&rsquot stop.

That&rsquos the moral of the story, and in that sense Sergio Herman: Fucking Perfect lives up to its name, revealing a man obsessed with culinary perfection and willing to sacrifice much in his life to achieve it. Yet while this idea is made abundantly clear, it would have been helpful if Kluijfhout had explained what makes Herman such a great chef: we see the persistence and passion, but never understand what he&rsquos brought to the table in terms of contemporary cuisine. (The only full dish we see him prepare is the classic Langoustines a la nage, and even that is only shown in a few brief fragments.)

In the filmmaker&rsquos defense, there are plenty of decent cooking shows out there, and what Kluijfhout does offer up in comparison is something that&rsquos much more visually arresting. With DP Remko Schnorr (The Pervert&rsquos Guide to Cinema) shooting on Super-16mm, the &ldquofood porn&rdquo close-ups have a rich, contrasted look filled with color and grain, bringing out the beauty of Herman&rsquos work during his long tenure at Oud Sluis. His creations there look more like pieces of art than something you can actually eat &ndash sensational dishes you can admire but unfortunately, can no longer taste.

Production companies: Trueworks, VPRO
Director: Willemiek Kluijfhout
Producer: Reinette van de Stadt
Director of photography: Remko Schnorr
Editor: Saskia Kievits
Composer: Trentemoller
Sales agent: Fortissimo Films


‘Sergio Herman: Fucking Perfect’: Berlin Review

The title says it all: Michelin 3-star chef Sergio Herman is Fucking Perfect, or at least he tries to be. But as every foodie film from Ratatouille to Jiro Dreams of Sushi to Jon Favreau&rsquos Chef has shown, running a first class restaurant is no walk in the park, especially when it&rsquos a gastronomic powerhouse ranked among the top 50 in the world.

Documenting the daily grind of planning, prepping, cooking, plating and serving a dauntingly complex array of dishes on a nightly basis, and revealing the heavy toll it takes on Herman&rsquos life at home, director Willemiek Kluijfhout provides an intriguing fly-on-the-wall expose that&rsquos more passionate than informative, but still finger-licking good. Premiering in Berlin&rsquos Culinary sidebar &ndash where Kluijfhout&rsquos Mussels in Love played two years ago &ndash this well-lensed feast should land reservations on the various food networks popping up in Europe and elsewhere.

Herman was raised in the apartment above his dad&rsquos small-town seafood restaurant, Oud Sluis (Dutch for &ldquoOld Sluice&rdquo), located near the northern coast of the Netherlands. He took the place over in 1990, quickly transforming it into one of Europe&rsquos premier eateries, with a propensity for elaborate recipes inspired by both his father&rsquos cooking and the molecular haute-cuisine concoctions of elBulli&rsquos Ferran Adria.

For over 25 years, Herman slaved away at the stove, barking orders at his kitchen help like a sergeant breaking in a bunch of new recruits. This is how we first encounter the chef: in the thick of a dinner rush, surveying his busy staff as he meticulously sculpts various unidentified food objects onto a small plate. Later, we see Herman driving home late at night, his wife and four children already fast asleep.

The endless toil continues throughout the opening reels, and it becomes increasingly clear that the high-octane job is running 43-year-old Herman into the ground. And then, shocker: He decides in 2013 to shut Oud Sluis down, hoping to spend more time with his family while pursuing less taxing enterprises. The news causes an outcry among food critics and foodies, but Herman has made his choice.

It&rsquos at this point that Kluijfhout, who&rsquos so infatuated with her subject that her film sometimes feels like an hagiography smothered in emulsified onions, manages to capture something akin to true emotion. As Herman makes a speech on Oud Sluis’ final night, he nearly chokes up, and you can suddenly see what it’s like to have your life&rsquos work disappear in the course of an evening, even if the decision was yours.

But not so fast: No sooner is Herman lounging around the house and looking prodigiously bored, then he decides to open up a brand new establishment &ndash a massive bar-restaurant located in an old church in Antwerp. It looks like a more releaxed joint than his 3-star affair, but still requires hours of preparation, meetings, samplings, and of course, more driving back and forth. Herman simply can&rsquot stop.

That&rsquos the moral of the story, and in that sense Sergio Herman: Fucking Perfect lives up to its name, revealing a man obsessed with culinary perfection and willing to sacrifice much in his life to achieve it. Yet while this idea is made abundantly clear, it would have been helpful if Kluijfhout had explained what makes Herman such a great chef: we see the persistence and passion, but never understand what he&rsquos brought to the table in terms of contemporary cuisine. (The only full dish we see him prepare is the classic Langoustines a la nage, and even that is only shown in a few brief fragments.)

In the filmmaker&rsquos defense, there are plenty of decent cooking shows out there, and what Kluijfhout does offer up in comparison is something that&rsquos much more visually arresting. With DP Remko Schnorr (The Pervert&rsquos Guide to Cinema) shooting on Super-16mm, the &ldquofood porn&rdquo close-ups have a rich, contrasted look filled with color and grain, bringing out the beauty of Herman&rsquos work during his long tenure at Oud Sluis. His creations there look more like pieces of art than something you can actually eat &ndash sensational dishes you can admire but unfortunately, can no longer taste.

Production companies: Trueworks, VPRO
Director: Willemiek Kluijfhout
Producer: Reinette van de Stadt
Director of photography: Remko Schnorr
Editor: Saskia Kievits
Composer: Trentemoller
Sales agent: Fortissimo Films


‘Sergio Herman: Fucking Perfect’: Berlin Review

The title says it all: Michelin 3-star chef Sergio Herman is Fucking Perfect, or at least he tries to be. But as every foodie film from Ratatouille to Jiro Dreams of Sushi to Jon Favreau&rsquos Chef has shown, running a first class restaurant is no walk in the park, especially when it&rsquos a gastronomic powerhouse ranked among the top 50 in the world.

Documenting the daily grind of planning, prepping, cooking, plating and serving a dauntingly complex array of dishes on a nightly basis, and revealing the heavy toll it takes on Herman&rsquos life at home, director Willemiek Kluijfhout provides an intriguing fly-on-the-wall expose that&rsquos more passionate than informative, but still finger-licking good. Premiering in Berlin&rsquos Culinary sidebar &ndash where Kluijfhout&rsquos Mussels in Love played two years ago &ndash this well-lensed feast should land reservations on the various food networks popping up in Europe and elsewhere.

Herman was raised in the apartment above his dad&rsquos small-town seafood restaurant, Oud Sluis (Dutch for &ldquoOld Sluice&rdquo), located near the northern coast of the Netherlands. He took the place over in 1990, quickly transforming it into one of Europe&rsquos premier eateries, with a propensity for elaborate recipes inspired by both his father&rsquos cooking and the molecular haute-cuisine concoctions of elBulli&rsquos Ferran Adria.

For over 25 years, Herman slaved away at the stove, barking orders at his kitchen help like a sergeant breaking in a bunch of new recruits. This is how we first encounter the chef: in the thick of a dinner rush, surveying his busy staff as he meticulously sculpts various unidentified food objects onto a small plate. Later, we see Herman driving home late at night, his wife and four children already fast asleep.

The endless toil continues throughout the opening reels, and it becomes increasingly clear that the high-octane job is running 43-year-old Herman into the ground. And then, shocker: He decides in 2013 to shut Oud Sluis down, hoping to spend more time with his family while pursuing less taxing enterprises. The news causes an outcry among food critics and foodies, but Herman has made his choice.

It&rsquos at this point that Kluijfhout, who&rsquos so infatuated with her subject that her film sometimes feels like an hagiography smothered in emulsified onions, manages to capture something akin to true emotion. As Herman makes a speech on Oud Sluis’ final night, he nearly chokes up, and you can suddenly see what it’s like to have your life&rsquos work disappear in the course of an evening, even if the decision was yours.

But not so fast: No sooner is Herman lounging around the house and looking prodigiously bored, then he decides to open up a brand new establishment &ndash a massive bar-restaurant located in an old church in Antwerp. It looks like a more releaxed joint than his 3-star affair, but still requires hours of preparation, meetings, samplings, and of course, more driving back and forth. Herman simply can&rsquot stop.

That&rsquos the moral of the story, and in that sense Sergio Herman: Fucking Perfect lives up to its name, revealing a man obsessed with culinary perfection and willing to sacrifice much in his life to achieve it. Yet while this idea is made abundantly clear, it would have been helpful if Kluijfhout had explained what makes Herman such a great chef: we see the persistence and passion, but never understand what he&rsquos brought to the table in terms of contemporary cuisine. (The only full dish we see him prepare is the classic Langoustines a la nage, and even that is only shown in a few brief fragments.)

In the filmmaker&rsquos defense, there are plenty of decent cooking shows out there, and what Kluijfhout does offer up in comparison is something that&rsquos much more visually arresting. With DP Remko Schnorr (The Pervert&rsquos Guide to Cinema) shooting on Super-16mm, the &ldquofood porn&rdquo close-ups have a rich, contrasted look filled with color and grain, bringing out the beauty of Herman&rsquos work during his long tenure at Oud Sluis. His creations there look more like pieces of art than something you can actually eat &ndash sensational dishes you can admire but unfortunately, can no longer taste.

Production companies: Trueworks, VPRO
Director: Willemiek Kluijfhout
Producer: Reinette van de Stadt
Director of photography: Remko Schnorr
Editor: Saskia Kievits
Composer: Trentemoller
Sales agent: Fortissimo Films


‘Sergio Herman: Fucking Perfect’: Berlin Review

The title says it all: Michelin 3-star chef Sergio Herman is Fucking Perfect, or at least he tries to be. But as every foodie film from Ratatouille to Jiro Dreams of Sushi to Jon Favreau&rsquos Chef has shown, running a first class restaurant is no walk in the park, especially when it&rsquos a gastronomic powerhouse ranked among the top 50 in the world.

Documenting the daily grind of planning, prepping, cooking, plating and serving a dauntingly complex array of dishes on a nightly basis, and revealing the heavy toll it takes on Herman&rsquos life at home, director Willemiek Kluijfhout provides an intriguing fly-on-the-wall expose that&rsquos more passionate than informative, but still finger-licking good. Premiering in Berlin&rsquos Culinary sidebar &ndash where Kluijfhout&rsquos Mussels in Love played two years ago &ndash this well-lensed feast should land reservations on the various food networks popping up in Europe and elsewhere.

Herman was raised in the apartment above his dad&rsquos small-town seafood restaurant, Oud Sluis (Dutch for &ldquoOld Sluice&rdquo), located near the northern coast of the Netherlands. He took the place over in 1990, quickly transforming it into one of Europe&rsquos premier eateries, with a propensity for elaborate recipes inspired by both his father&rsquos cooking and the molecular haute-cuisine concoctions of elBulli&rsquos Ferran Adria.

For over 25 years, Herman slaved away at the stove, barking orders at his kitchen help like a sergeant breaking in a bunch of new recruits. This is how we first encounter the chef: in the thick of a dinner rush, surveying his busy staff as he meticulously sculpts various unidentified food objects onto a small plate. Later, we see Herman driving home late at night, his wife and four children already fast asleep.

The endless toil continues throughout the opening reels, and it becomes increasingly clear that the high-octane job is running 43-year-old Herman into the ground. And then, shocker: He decides in 2013 to shut Oud Sluis down, hoping to spend more time with his family while pursuing less taxing enterprises. The news causes an outcry among food critics and foodies, but Herman has made his choice.

It&rsquos at this point that Kluijfhout, who&rsquos so infatuated with her subject that her film sometimes feels like an hagiography smothered in emulsified onions, manages to capture something akin to true emotion. As Herman makes a speech on Oud Sluis’ final night, he nearly chokes up, and you can suddenly see what it’s like to have your life&rsquos work disappear in the course of an evening, even if the decision was yours.

But not so fast: No sooner is Herman lounging around the house and looking prodigiously bored, then he decides to open up a brand new establishment &ndash a massive bar-restaurant located in an old church in Antwerp. It looks like a more releaxed joint than his 3-star affair, but still requires hours of preparation, meetings, samplings, and of course, more driving back and forth. Herman simply can&rsquot stop.

That&rsquos the moral of the story, and in that sense Sergio Herman: Fucking Perfect lives up to its name, revealing a man obsessed with culinary perfection and willing to sacrifice much in his life to achieve it. Yet while this idea is made abundantly clear, it would have been helpful if Kluijfhout had explained what makes Herman such a great chef: we see the persistence and passion, but never understand what he&rsquos brought to the table in terms of contemporary cuisine. (The only full dish we see him prepare is the classic Langoustines a la nage, and even that is only shown in a few brief fragments.)

In the filmmaker&rsquos defense, there are plenty of decent cooking shows out there, and what Kluijfhout does offer up in comparison is something that&rsquos much more visually arresting. With DP Remko Schnorr (The Pervert&rsquos Guide to Cinema) shooting on Super-16mm, the &ldquofood porn&rdquo close-ups have a rich, contrasted look filled with color and grain, bringing out the beauty of Herman&rsquos work during his long tenure at Oud Sluis. His creations there look more like pieces of art than something you can actually eat &ndash sensational dishes you can admire but unfortunately, can no longer taste.

Production companies: Trueworks, VPRO
Director: Willemiek Kluijfhout
Producer: Reinette van de Stadt
Director of photography: Remko Schnorr
Editor: Saskia Kievits
Composer: Trentemoller
Sales agent: Fortissimo Films


‘Sergio Herman: Fucking Perfect’: Berlin Review

The title says it all: Michelin 3-star chef Sergio Herman is Fucking Perfect, or at least he tries to be. But as every foodie film from Ratatouille to Jiro Dreams of Sushi to Jon Favreau&rsquos Chef has shown, running a first class restaurant is no walk in the park, especially when it&rsquos a gastronomic powerhouse ranked among the top 50 in the world.

Documenting the daily grind of planning, prepping, cooking, plating and serving a dauntingly complex array of dishes on a nightly basis, and revealing the heavy toll it takes on Herman&rsquos life at home, director Willemiek Kluijfhout provides an intriguing fly-on-the-wall expose that&rsquos more passionate than informative, but still finger-licking good. Premiering in Berlin&rsquos Culinary sidebar &ndash where Kluijfhout&rsquos Mussels in Love played two years ago &ndash this well-lensed feast should land reservations on the various food networks popping up in Europe and elsewhere.

Herman was raised in the apartment above his dad&rsquos small-town seafood restaurant, Oud Sluis (Dutch for &ldquoOld Sluice&rdquo), located near the northern coast of the Netherlands. He took the place over in 1990, quickly transforming it into one of Europe&rsquos premier eateries, with a propensity for elaborate recipes inspired by both his father&rsquos cooking and the molecular haute-cuisine concoctions of elBulli&rsquos Ferran Adria.

For over 25 years, Herman slaved away at the stove, barking orders at his kitchen help like a sergeant breaking in a bunch of new recruits. This is how we first encounter the chef: in the thick of a dinner rush, surveying his busy staff as he meticulously sculpts various unidentified food objects onto a small plate. Later, we see Herman driving home late at night, his wife and four children already fast asleep.

The endless toil continues throughout the opening reels, and it becomes increasingly clear that the high-octane job is running 43-year-old Herman into the ground. And then, shocker: He decides in 2013 to shut Oud Sluis down, hoping to spend more time with his family while pursuing less taxing enterprises. The news causes an outcry among food critics and foodies, but Herman has made his choice.

It&rsquos at this point that Kluijfhout, who&rsquos so infatuated with her subject that her film sometimes feels like an hagiography smothered in emulsified onions, manages to capture something akin to true emotion. As Herman makes a speech on Oud Sluis’ final night, he nearly chokes up, and you can suddenly see what it’s like to have your life&rsquos work disappear in the course of an evening, even if the decision was yours.

But not so fast: No sooner is Herman lounging around the house and looking prodigiously bored, then he decides to open up a brand new establishment &ndash a massive bar-restaurant located in an old church in Antwerp. It looks like a more releaxed joint than his 3-star affair, but still requires hours of preparation, meetings, samplings, and of course, more driving back and forth. Herman simply can&rsquot stop.

That&rsquos the moral of the story, and in that sense Sergio Herman: Fucking Perfect lives up to its name, revealing a man obsessed with culinary perfection and willing to sacrifice much in his life to achieve it. Yet while this idea is made abundantly clear, it would have been helpful if Kluijfhout had explained what makes Herman such a great chef: we see the persistence and passion, but never understand what he&rsquos brought to the table in terms of contemporary cuisine. (The only full dish we see him prepare is the classic Langoustines a la nage, and even that is only shown in a few brief fragments.)

In the filmmaker&rsquos defense, there are plenty of decent cooking shows out there, and what Kluijfhout does offer up in comparison is something that&rsquos much more visually arresting. With DP Remko Schnorr (The Pervert&rsquos Guide to Cinema) shooting on Super-16mm, the &ldquofood porn&rdquo close-ups have a rich, contrasted look filled with color and grain, bringing out the beauty of Herman&rsquos work during his long tenure at Oud Sluis. His creations there look more like pieces of art than something you can actually eat &ndash sensational dishes you can admire but unfortunately, can no longer taste.

Production companies: Trueworks, VPRO
Director: Willemiek Kluijfhout
Producer: Reinette van de Stadt
Director of photography: Remko Schnorr
Editor: Saskia Kievits
Composer: Trentemoller
Sales agent: Fortissimo Films


‘Sergio Herman: Fucking Perfect’: Berlin Review

The title says it all: Michelin 3-star chef Sergio Herman is Fucking Perfect, or at least he tries to be. But as every foodie film from Ratatouille to Jiro Dreams of Sushi to Jon Favreau&rsquos Chef has shown, running a first class restaurant is no walk in the park, especially when it&rsquos a gastronomic powerhouse ranked among the top 50 in the world.

Documenting the daily grind of planning, prepping, cooking, plating and serving a dauntingly complex array of dishes on a nightly basis, and revealing the heavy toll it takes on Herman&rsquos life at home, director Willemiek Kluijfhout provides an intriguing fly-on-the-wall expose that&rsquos more passionate than informative, but still finger-licking good. Premiering in Berlin&rsquos Culinary sidebar &ndash where Kluijfhout&rsquos Mussels in Love played two years ago &ndash this well-lensed feast should land reservations on the various food networks popping up in Europe and elsewhere.

Herman was raised in the apartment above his dad&rsquos small-town seafood restaurant, Oud Sluis (Dutch for &ldquoOld Sluice&rdquo), located near the northern coast of the Netherlands. He took the place over in 1990, quickly transforming it into one of Europe&rsquos premier eateries, with a propensity for elaborate recipes inspired by both his father&rsquos cooking and the molecular haute-cuisine concoctions of elBulli&rsquos Ferran Adria.

For over 25 years, Herman slaved away at the stove, barking orders at his kitchen help like a sergeant breaking in a bunch of new recruits. This is how we first encounter the chef: in the thick of a dinner rush, surveying his busy staff as he meticulously sculpts various unidentified food objects onto a small plate. Later, we see Herman driving home late at night, his wife and four children already fast asleep.

The endless toil continues throughout the opening reels, and it becomes increasingly clear that the high-octane job is running 43-year-old Herman into the ground. And then, shocker: He decides in 2013 to shut Oud Sluis down, hoping to spend more time with his family while pursuing less taxing enterprises. The news causes an outcry among food critics and foodies, but Herman has made his choice.

It&rsquos at this point that Kluijfhout, who&rsquos so infatuated with her subject that her film sometimes feels like an hagiography smothered in emulsified onions, manages to capture something akin to true emotion. As Herman makes a speech on Oud Sluis’ final night, he nearly chokes up, and you can suddenly see what it’s like to have your life&rsquos work disappear in the course of an evening, even if the decision was yours.

But not so fast: No sooner is Herman lounging around the house and looking prodigiously bored, then he decides to open up a brand new establishment &ndash a massive bar-restaurant located in an old church in Antwerp. It looks like a more releaxed joint than his 3-star affair, but still requires hours of preparation, meetings, samplings, and of course, more driving back and forth. Herman simply can&rsquot stop.

That&rsquos the moral of the story, and in that sense Sergio Herman: Fucking Perfect lives up to its name, revealing a man obsessed with culinary perfection and willing to sacrifice much in his life to achieve it. Yet while this idea is made abundantly clear, it would have been helpful if Kluijfhout had explained what makes Herman such a great chef: we see the persistence and passion, but never understand what he&rsquos brought to the table in terms of contemporary cuisine. (The only full dish we see him prepare is the classic Langoustines a la nage, and even that is only shown in a few brief fragments.)

In the filmmaker&rsquos defense, there are plenty of decent cooking shows out there, and what Kluijfhout does offer up in comparison is something that&rsquos much more visually arresting. With DP Remko Schnorr (The Pervert&rsquos Guide to Cinema) shooting on Super-16mm, the &ldquofood porn&rdquo close-ups have a rich, contrasted look filled with color and grain, bringing out the beauty of Herman&rsquos work during his long tenure at Oud Sluis. His creations there look more like pieces of art than something you can actually eat &ndash sensational dishes you can admire but unfortunately, can no longer taste.

Production companies: Trueworks, VPRO
Director: Willemiek Kluijfhout
Producer: Reinette van de Stadt
Director of photography: Remko Schnorr
Editor: Saskia Kievits
Composer: Trentemoller
Sales agent: Fortissimo Films


‘Sergio Herman: Fucking Perfect’: Berlin Review

The title says it all: Michelin 3-star chef Sergio Herman is Fucking Perfect, or at least he tries to be. But as every foodie film from Ratatouille to Jiro Dreams of Sushi to Jon Favreau&rsquos Chef has shown, running a first class restaurant is no walk in the park, especially when it&rsquos a gastronomic powerhouse ranked among the top 50 in the world.

Documenting the daily grind of planning, prepping, cooking, plating and serving a dauntingly complex array of dishes on a nightly basis, and revealing the heavy toll it takes on Herman&rsquos life at home, director Willemiek Kluijfhout provides an intriguing fly-on-the-wall expose that&rsquos more passionate than informative, but still finger-licking good. Premiering in Berlin&rsquos Culinary sidebar &ndash where Kluijfhout&rsquos Mussels in Love played two years ago &ndash this well-lensed feast should land reservations on the various food networks popping up in Europe and elsewhere.

Herman was raised in the apartment above his dad&rsquos small-town seafood restaurant, Oud Sluis (Dutch for &ldquoOld Sluice&rdquo), located near the northern coast of the Netherlands. He took the place over in 1990, quickly transforming it into one of Europe&rsquos premier eateries, with a propensity for elaborate recipes inspired by both his father&rsquos cooking and the molecular haute-cuisine concoctions of elBulli&rsquos Ferran Adria.

For over 25 years, Herman slaved away at the stove, barking orders at his kitchen help like a sergeant breaking in a bunch of new recruits. This is how we first encounter the chef: in the thick of a dinner rush, surveying his busy staff as he meticulously sculpts various unidentified food objects onto a small plate. Later, we see Herman driving home late at night, his wife and four children already fast asleep.

The endless toil continues throughout the opening reels, and it becomes increasingly clear that the high-octane job is running 43-year-old Herman into the ground. And then, shocker: He decides in 2013 to shut Oud Sluis down, hoping to spend more time with his family while pursuing less taxing enterprises. The news causes an outcry among food critics and foodies, but Herman has made his choice.

It&rsquos at this point that Kluijfhout, who&rsquos so infatuated with her subject that her film sometimes feels like an hagiography smothered in emulsified onions, manages to capture something akin to true emotion. As Herman makes a speech on Oud Sluis’ final night, he nearly chokes up, and you can suddenly see what it’s like to have your life&rsquos work disappear in the course of an evening, even if the decision was yours.

But not so fast: No sooner is Herman lounging around the house and looking prodigiously bored, then he decides to open up a brand new establishment &ndash a massive bar-restaurant located in an old church in Antwerp. It looks like a more releaxed joint than his 3-star affair, but still requires hours of preparation, meetings, samplings, and of course, more driving back and forth. Herman simply can&rsquot stop.

That&rsquos the moral of the story, and in that sense Sergio Herman: Fucking Perfect lives up to its name, revealing a man obsessed with culinary perfection and willing to sacrifice much in his life to achieve it. Yet while this idea is made abundantly clear, it would have been helpful if Kluijfhout had explained what makes Herman such a great chef: we see the persistence and passion, but never understand what he&rsquos brought to the table in terms of contemporary cuisine. (The only full dish we see him prepare is the classic Langoustines a la nage, and even that is only shown in a few brief fragments.)

In the filmmaker&rsquos defense, there are plenty of decent cooking shows out there, and what Kluijfhout does offer up in comparison is something that&rsquos much more visually arresting. With DP Remko Schnorr (The Pervert&rsquos Guide to Cinema) shooting on Super-16mm, the &ldquofood porn&rdquo close-ups have a rich, contrasted look filled with color and grain, bringing out the beauty of Herman&rsquos work during his long tenure at Oud Sluis. His creations there look more like pieces of art than something you can actually eat &ndash sensational dishes you can admire but unfortunately, can no longer taste.

Production companies: Trueworks, VPRO
Director: Willemiek Kluijfhout
Producer: Reinette van de Stadt
Director of photography: Remko Schnorr
Editor: Saskia Kievits
Composer: Trentemoller
Sales agent: Fortissimo Films


Watch the video: Worlds ApartΈνας Άλλος Κόσμος: The Making of Τα Γυρίσματα (December 2021).