Babettes Gæstebud (1987)

1987
 Directed by: Gabriel Axel

Starring:  Stéphane Audran, Bodil Kjer, Birgitte Federspiel Jarl Kulle, 
Jean-Philippe Lafont, Bibi Andersson

The movie is set in the late 19th century on a remote, barren, yet beautiful windswept coast of western Jutland. And as the movie begins, we are introduced to two sisters, Martine (Birgitte Federspiel) and Philippa (Bodil Kjer).  

They are the daughters of a Protestant pastor who is so conservative that his brand of Christianity is almost a sect unto itself. 

Turn back the pages of time almost half a century, and we find that the sisters were startlingly beautiful, and had suitors aplenty. 

However, their father believes that 'earthly love and marriage have scant worth'. (Begs the question, doesn't it, why did he marry? Never mind.) And when a local boy plucks up enough courage to ask for Martine's hand in marriage, the puritanical pastor admonishes him - by asking to marry one of his daughters, he (the boy) was robbing him (the pastor) of his hands. Enough to squelch that romance! 

But that boy is not the first, and he certainly is not the last. A young officer of the Swedish cavalry has been sent to the coast to stay with his aunt so he can try to mend his rather-too-profligate behaviour. He falls head-over-heels in love with Martine, and even visits the church regularly so he can meet her. However, Martine seems impervious to his presence. He even dreams that his life will turn around if he had someone as good and pure as her by his side. Alas, it is not to be. She continues to ignore him, and finally, he leaves in despair. Maybe she is too good for him?

 

Philippa, on the other hand, is being courted by a famous Opera singer from Paris - Achille Papin, who is on a recuperating lease at the seaside. During the rehearsal of Don Giovanni for the Christmas programme, he falls in love with her lovely soprano voice; he has visions of training her to be an Opera singer too; when he plants a chaste kiss on her forehead, she is dismayed, and without further ado, stops all rehearsals. Philippa is distressed. 

 

If their father demands their unquestioning love and obedience and presence, the girls are no less backward in giving it to him. He comes first, above all. And they cling to the narrow definition of Christianity as espoused by their austere leader, their father, and so refuse all lures of earthly love. Papin cannot but accept her answer as final. And so, he leaves too, never to return.

Life continues, the parson has long since died, but his devoted daughters, both aging spinsters, preside lovingly over the rural congregation. It is a congregation that has banded together, frightened of temptations of life outside their little village. They are tetchy and quarrelsome, not really evil, but so full of petty actions and jealousies that they dredge up old quarrels just for fun. Even the church is not the same.

 

 It is to this bleak and inhospitable land that a Parisienne refugee comes thirty-five years later, bearing with her a letter of introduction from Philippa's former lover. She is Babette (Stéphane Audran), whose husband and son has been killed in the counter-revolution in France, and Achille begs that the sisters employ her as some sort of house-keeper. and the two sisters kindly give her a home to stay.

 

Fourteen years pass; years in which Babette has endeared herself not only to the sisters whose lives she has made much more comfortable, but also to others in the village. Babette seems content to stay in the village, not mourning for her homeland, at least not visibly. Her only connection to that long-forsaken land is the lottery in Paris, the ticket for which a friend renews every year. And then one day, she gets a letter (it is a very nice scene - the postmaster, who is also the village shopkeeper, takes a deep breath and goes inside to put on his cap before he delivers the letter) from France. It tells her that she has won the lottery at last - 10,000 francs! 

 

The news spreads around the village. It is more money than any of them have dreamt of. Babette is now wealthy, and the villagers lose no time in letting the sisters know that she will now leave. Babette is surely happy? She can finally go back to her own land and live in adequate comfort. The sisters are sad; Babette has become part of their family in all these years. But they put a good face on things, and wish her well. 

And then Babette asks them a favour. Could she, by any chance, cook them a real French meal? Not one that they decide, but one that she will cook from scratch. She will decide the menu, she will buy the ingredients, she will cook the meal - after all, it is their father's centenary, and they had already invited the guests. May she? The sisters, helpless in the face of her insistence, give in. And Babette goes away to ask her nephew to order the ingredients for the special meal. 

 

When the parcel and boxes begin to come in, the village is deliciously agog - what strange things! A turtle, quails, caviar, wine...  The villagers are gossipping. The sisters are aghast. What witches' brew is Babette concocting?

 

But how can they ask her to cease, once they have given her permission to cook for the feast. Indeed there is much hand wringing going on! Should they go against the teachings of their founder, and give in to so much sensual pleasure? Finally, they decide, the sisters and the congregation, that they will eat what is put in front of them, but they will take no pleasure in it.

Meanwhile, Babette is busy, busy, busy. And the kitchen is a whirlwind of activity. Delicious smells percolate the rest of the house, and the sisters are more and more agitated. And then they get a note from the local lady of the manor; her nephew is visiting. (It is Martine's old Lieutenant.) May she bring him along? Babette reassures the sisters that there will be plenty of food.

Soon, it is the night of the feast. And the guests are astonished at the splendour they see in the sisters' usually rustic home. The long banquet table is covered with a starched, ivory white tablecloth; the finest China and crystal place settings and silver cutlery shine in the reflected glow of the antique candlebras; the ambience reflects a sophisticated elegance so at odds with the usual atmosphere of the house.

 

They troop quietly in, and sit down even more quietly. Babette comes in with the apéritif - an aged Sherry (amontillado), and the first course: Turtle Soup. They have barely finished that when the other courses make a magical appearance: Blinis Demidoff (buckwheat cakes with caviar), Caille en Sarcophage (quail with foie gras and truffle sauce), a walnut-Belgian Chicory salad, Cheese and fruit, and the meal ends on a high note - with a dessert of Savarin au Rhum avec des Figues et Fruits Glacées (Rum cake with figs and glazed fruit). The finest wines and champagnes perfectly complement every course.

 

Martine's old suitor is now a General married to a lady-in-waiting to the Swedish queen. He, of all the guests, is the only one who appreciates the quality of  the meal. He frequently comments on the various courses, and the wines, which remind him strongly of a meal he had once had in one of the best restaurants in Paris - the Café Anglais. The other guests studiously avoid all topic of food even if it is obvious that the dinner has mellowed them. Old wounds have ceased to matter; old romances are being rekindled, and a peace hitherto unknown settles over the table. Babette herself is nowhere to be seen. She has cooked, she has served, and now she sits silently in the kitchen sipping a glass of wine. One wonders what she is thinking - whether the act of cooking was reward in itself, because her guests, with the exception of one, really do not understand what it is they are eating and drinking.

 

However, there is great art in her cooking, because, adamant though they are that they will not take pleasure in the feast, the guests have relaxed; and it is not a momentary relaxation, it is a realisation that not all pleasures of the flesh are bad all the time. You can see the change. What is more, they can see (and feel it) too.

But who is  Babette? And what will she do now that the feast is over? 

 

The ending is as heartwarming as the beginning is bleak. Even the colours lighten from the dreary washed-out blue-greys of a storm-tossed coast with which the film opens to the colours of the banquet, and the rich glow of the candles. There is quiet humour, and warmth and affection in the way the characters are drawn. And Stéphane Audran was Babette. It was a role offered to Catherine Deneuve, but she turned it down and Audran snapped it up. The film also had a fine ensemble cast of Danish actors who played the roles of the villagers. The film can be seen as a representation and/or satire of Christianity's tenets (the last supper, the 12 guests) but it is more than that - it's about human warmth and interaction, about human frailties and weaknesses, and it shows the triumph of selfless love - without preaching. 

The direction is slow, meticulous, with an attention to detail - every character lovingly drawn, every wrinkle in every aged / aging face showing the nuances of expression that one can scarcely take one's eyes away from the screen to read the sub-titles. Little scenes: like the expression on Babette's face when she first tastes the pig slop and salted cod that is the usual fare in her new home, the expression on the General's face when he takes the first sip of his wine, and realises at once that it is finer than he expected; the villagers, who vow not to say anything, but their expressions of shock when they taste the food, their slow acceptance of its sumptuousness; the sisters' feelings as they realise what Babette has really given them...

 

I watched this movie more than ten years ago on an old VHS tape; bought it on DVD as soon as I could afford it (can anyone tell me why good European movies have to cost a bomb?); I have watched it many times since then, and each time, I have come away with a better appreciation of what the movie is trying to say. There is restraint and there is grace in this gentle tale so simply told. There is richness in its simplicity, there is happiness in sadness, there is conflict and resolution in this story of loss and redemption. And the music, by Mozart and Brahms, combined with some pleasant hymns, complements the film’s slow unwinding.

For anyone who loves good cinema, from wherever in the world it might be, Babette's Feast is a must-see.  It is a slow movie, be warned (the feast itself taking up an hour), the director almost painting the film on screen, one delicate brushstroke at a time, but oh, it is worth it! 

P.S. Don't watch the movie when you are hungry.