Thoughtful doc considers life and loss
Director Morgan Neville, who won an Oscar for 20 Feet from Stardom and multiple awards for the Mr. Rogers documentary Won’t You Be My Neighbor takes on the late celebrity chef Anthony Bourdain in his new film Roadrunner: A Film About Anthony Bourdain. The subtitle is somewhat curious; yes, the film is about Bourdain, but while Neville briefly touches on Bourdain’s early life, anyone looking for a thorough biographical sketch of the man won’t find it here. Ultimately, the film is less of an all-encompassing biography, and more of a meditation on life and its attendant joys and sorrows and suicide, loss, and grief. On that level, it works exceptionally well.
Anyone even remotely familiar with Bourdain probably knows the basics, either via his best-selling books or his various television programs. After working his way up from dishwasher to head chef in swanky Manhattan kitchens, Bourdain found enormous success after the publication of his first tell-all book, Kitchen Confidential. Despite personal and professional triumphs, including the birth of his daughter and a series of award-winning food and travel programs, Bourdain took his own life in 2018 at age 61. His colleagues, friends, family, and fans have been grappling with that choice ever since.
Neville’s documentary attempts to explore what led Bourdain to that final decision, but of course there are no pat answers. “You don’t get to know,” a friend says, “That’s tough.” What there is instead is a lot of speculation, and some of it is more gracious than others. Bourdain’s last girlfriend, Italian actress Asia Argento, who is not interviewed, is the subject of some not-so-flattering, gossipy comments that border on spiteful and misogynistic. But the majority of observations are on the man as a chef, writer, media personality, husband, father, and friend. The film is filled with interviews with colleagues, friends, and family; we hear musings from everyone from Bourdain’s second wife (and mother of his daughter) Ottavia to good friends like fellow chef David Chang and musician Iggy Pop.
From these interviews, we learn that Bourdain struggled with what he called “the bittersweet curse”’: the opposing idea that nothing feels better than coming home, and nothing feels better than leaving home. Bourdain, who often was on the road as many as 250 days a year, was torn between his domestic life and the adventure of being on the road, and that dichotomy took a tremendous toll on him and his personal relationships.
Under the umbrella of that overarching theme, the picture does share some interesting tidbits about Bourdain. His famed book Kitchen Confidential, which skyrocketed him to success, started as simply a series of emails to a friend he sent while travelling in Japan. And he was initially so quiet and shy on camera that, after the first few episodes of his inaugural television show “A Cook’s Tour,” his producer remarked to a colleague, “We’re fucked.” Gradually, though, Bourdain relaxed, became less of a tour guide, and more open to experiences, and the show clicked. Another surprise is that Bourdain actually hadn’t travelled much at all before that first travel program. Travel, as it is wont to do, widened his perspective, and made him a more empathetic person. Segments about his stints in the Congo and Beirut are particularly moving and eye-opening, and help us see that, ultimately, Bourdain’s shows were less about food, and more about him trying to become a better, more evolved and caring human being.
Neville was recently criticized after acknowledging that he used artificial intelligence (AI) to recreate some of Bourdain’s voiceovers in the film, yet failed to indicate doing so anywhere on screen or in the credits. While Neville’s decision may be ethically dubious (and fodder for a lively discussion on the use and abuse of AI), I don’t think it detracts at all from the film’s final message. The picture is a call for understanding, compassion, and mental health awareness, and for that, it should not only be seen, but also lauded. The effect of Bourdain’s suicide on his friends is profound, and their loss, as they talk on camera about it, is palpable and heartwrenching. “I just miss him,” Bourdain’s friend artist David Choe says. Bourdain felt alone, Choe reflects, and like he couldn’t talk to anyone about the pain inside of him. How can we make sure we’re open and attuned to our friends who may be experiencing something similar? Creating an awareness of that question may be the film’s most enduring legacy, and one that overshadows any controversy.
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Roadrunner: A Film About Anthony Bourdain opens today at Bay Area theaters.
