Ladies and gents, give it up for sexual 'Chocolat'!

"Once upon a time," in a small French town, the north wind blows through beautiful and mysterious Vianne and her daughter, Anouk. They set up a "chocolaterie" that sells chocolate with magical power to unleashe people's hidden desires and heals their inner wounds. The chocolaterie and its owner, Vianne (played quite charmingly by Juliette Binoche), are a sensation that blesses some (like the old couple whose sex life is invigorated by the aphrodisiac powers of chocolate) and scandalize others (especially the conservative mayor, Reynaud, who tries everything to put Vianne out of business).

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Who is this woman-magician? We find out, in Vianne's own words, that her mother belonged to a South American tribe that wandered around and healed people, and that Vianne inherited her duty. Whenever the north wind starts to gust, it is her mother's spirit telling her it is time to move to a new town and to heal new people.

Such "healing," however, is absolutely repugnant to the domineering Reynaud (Alfred Molina)—who is so overbearing that he even tells the young priest what to say in his sermons. He swears that, as his ancestor had expelled the Huguenots, he is going to expel the shameless Vianne and her chocolaterie. Alas, even he, at the end, succumbs to the magical chocolate and its liberating power, with which he is able to heal the wounds inflicted on him by his wife's departure.

So goes the story of Chocolat, director Lasse Hallström's follow-up to Cider House Rules. In this charming tale, everyone is trying to shake off the oppressive burden of antiquated tradition to live more freely and happily. Josephine (Lena Olin) rebels against the tradition of holy matrimony and breaks away from her abusive husband. Guillaum (John Wood), an old man fascinated with the widowed Madame Audel, finally garners enough courage to disregard "propriety" and makes advances toward his beloved. Even Vianne, who encourages others to rebel and live freely, has her own tradition to struggle with. The family duty—that of going from place to place to heal others—makes her and her daughter drift unwillingly, without any sense of belonging anywhere. Finally, even she herself realizes that time has come for her to move on (away from tradition rather than along with it), and that her family duty has become an ever-tightening shell under which she can no longer live. Vianne's break from tradition is symbollized when she scatters he mother's ashes in the north wind.

Chocolat's central theme—that of breaking away from tradition—is certainly worth exploring. When is one to follow tradition? And when is one to break away from it? The complex consequences and implication make this a subtle and mutlifaceted theme. Unfortunately, Hallström is very naïve and simple-minded in his exploration. Chocolat only presents the positive side of breaking away with tradition—that of freeing people from onerous burdens. It does not even hint at the negative, or even tragic, side of this break. At the end, the audience feels sweet and uplifted. Viewers are not prompted to reflect deeper than thinking traditions ought to be transcended. Some may defend this movie by claiming that this simplicity, or naiveté, fits well with its fairy-tale tone, but fairy tales, especially the best ones, aspire to complexity.

Chocolat fails on another aspect. It does not carry the theme of tradition-breaking further—into the very process of filmmaking. That is to say, the film itself does not break with traditional filmmaking techniques. It relies exclusively on the hackneyed and transparent styles of Hollywood cinema. Hallström uses almost no inventive, or even unusual, camerawork. The film looks promising at the beginning, when Hallström uses some innovative aerial shots to show Vianne's advent, but one is quickly disappointed later on as he does nothing more than a repetition of the same.

This rupture between content and a form that does not reinforce the story is what is preventing Chocolat from achieving the status of great. As it stands, the film is merely good.

I do not want to imply that "transparent" traditional cinema can never be great; the importance is artistic unity. Saving Private Ryan, for example, is a traditional film that achieves artistic unity. Its form, in the style of super-realism, corresponds very well with its subject. In Chocolat, on the other hand, there is an artistic rupture that leaves a bitter taste in the audience's mouths.

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