"CHEF" (2014)

Chef

by

Jon Favreau

1/31/13

A seasoned leather pouch unrolls revealing gleaming Japanese chefs knives.

Large hands slide an onion onto a cutting board. Forearms with impressive tattoos. Photo-real vegetables and cooking accoutrements. A razor sharp chefs knife deftly reduces the onion to confetti.

CARL CASPER is a large man in his forties. He wears a short sleeve chef’s coat. He is in a commercial kitchen alone. Morning rays of sunlight burn through the cloudy glass and kick off the sharp stainless corners surrounding him. And in the peace of the morning light, Carl does the meditative dance of preparing his mis en place.

Ingredient after ingredient is prepared and organized around his station. Jump cuts follow the rhythm of the nostalgic Afro-Cuban soundtrack as his knives dance through the produce.

The MUSIC is now “scource” and it rises sharply in volume.

In dances MARTIN, the portly black, Cuban grill chef. He dances in to the salsa beat with an entire pig hoisted onto one shoulder.

Martin dances the salsa in place balancing the pig.

Martin has begun breaking down the pig while they talk.

Carl, still sporting chef’s coat and clogs, hustles to his eighties Mercedes. He spots a MAN sleeping reclined behind the wheel of a filthy Beemer. He knocks the glass. The man is startled. It’s TONY, the latino Sous Chef. He is very hung over.

Carl hustles to the car.

Carl’s seasoned Mercedes pulls up to a fat house. He hustles to the door that opens before he arrives. PERCY comes out. He’s nine. Just in this brief glimpse we see a NANNY, a GARDENER, a HOUSEKEEPER and a HANDYMAN.

He drives aggressively.

Carl and Percy weave through the aisles of the Farmers Market. Carl paws at the produce. He talks to a VENDOR.

Percy and Carl are pounding fistfuls of steaming kettle corn.

The father and son are eating sausage.

Carl and Percy are both stuffing their faces with funnel cakes.

Carl’s car pulls away, leaving Percy out in front of his house. Percy has an ice cream cone.

Carl bursts in as the WAIT STAFF prepares the dining room for service. Carl inspects as he briskly passes through.

A cheer of approval rises from the young servers. He scurries into the kitchen.

Salsa music is blasting. The kitchen staff is choreographed in coordinated harmony as steam billows from pots and stations are arranged. Carl sets down several bags of farmers market purchases.

MOLLY, a very attractive floor manager in her 30s, pops into the kitchen.

Everything stops.

As she leaves.

In walks RIVA, a cool customer in his sixties, sipping an espresso. He wears the clothes of a wealthy man. He is not shaken in the least by the tirade he just caught the tail end of.

The staff leaves the kitchen. Carl erupts.

Carl just listens. He has been subdued and humbled. Riva produces a handwritten note.

Carl takes the menu and reads it. Riva exits, leaving an empty demitasse on the stainless counter top. The staff cautiously filter back in. They wait. Finally...

All energy leaves the room. All of the electricity is gone.

CLOSE UP on a little marionette of a skeleton dancing and singing along with a recording of Al Green’s Tired of Being Alone. Carl stares at it. He is standing next to his son who is eating Wetzel’s Pretzel bits. He tries to attract his father’s attention.

Carl and his staff slam shots after work. Everyone is smoking and the bar is closed to all but other restaurant staffs. The mood is very festive. Like they’re celebrating. Carl reads from an iPhone:

Beat.

Carl and Molly smoke a joint on the hood of a parked car behind the bar.

He turns. Touched and vulnerable.

After a pause of emotional warmth Carl goes to kiss her. She politely retreats.

He starts kissing her again. She gives in.

SILHOUETTE of four thrusts of them unceremoniously pounding the shit out of one another.

Molly smokes naked in bed. Alone.

Carl call back from the kitchen. He is meticulously preparing a charcuterie board and tiny runny grilled cheddar sandwiches on farmers sourdough.

He brings in the late night snack.

She bites into it. Ecstacy.

Carl waits in his old Mercedes out front of his ex-wife’s mini mansion. He listens to vintage Latin music. Percy runs up to his window.

Carl walks past an endless parade of domestic employees. A handyman is painting. A cleaning lady is cleaning. A cook is cooking. Percy leads him to an office in the back where a gardener gardens and a CAR WASHER washes the car. Carl’s beautiful Cuban ex-wife, INEZ, sits wearing a bluetooth headset. She smiles and holds up a finger as she trills on in Spanish.

The headset comes off.

Nice moment. Then.

Carl and Percy sit side by side eating popcorn and watching a loud action movie. Abrupt CUT TO:

Carl and Percy sit side by on a racing rollercoaster. Abrupt

Carl pulls away leaving Percy in front of his house waving.

Tight, impressionistic SHOTS of Carl preparing a dish. He is alone and experimenting. Each ingredient, and cooking surface, and knife stroke and gas flame fills the SCREEN unexpectedly, each gesture imbued with a wisp of life. Cooking is a transcendent dance for Carl, and time bends as he enters the flow. A dish emerges as if sculpted with time and temperature. And many other beautiful creations now surround him.

Martin enters. It is clear that it is now...

Carl feeds him a spoon like a baby.

Tony walks in, arriving at work.

Martin feeds Tony like a baby.

Carl and Percy stare at a TV and eat hero sandwiches from Bay City Deli.

Percy is punching numbers into Carl’s iPhone at the breakfast table.

Wow...

The father and son hunker down. Quality time as we trail off in a WIDE SHOT.

Percy is sleeping in a foldaway bed in Carl’s modest apartment. The lights are all off but for a bright fixture pointed down at the table where Carl sits peering and poking at his iPad mini.

We see the iPad in both INSERTS and as CHYRONS on the SCREEN showing the TWITTER FEED.

He does a search for his own name and, sure enough, a headline pops up:

“Carl Casper - Stillborn Chef”

He clicks the link and it’s the scathing review. He scrolls through the search results and there are endless RETWEETS of the repeated article.

He clicks the link of who originally posted the review. It’s @RamseyMichel

A profile page shows other review headlines and a link to...

A HOMEPAGE, sponsered by AOL. Ramsey Michel is clearly a passionate food critic and blogger who not only writes, but provides a digital nexus for discerning food culture. His page boasts a meticulous design and a photographic portrait of Ramsey Michel(ten years younger) sitting at a white linen tablecloth about to eat a plate of Zeros and Ones. The blog is called “The Digital Palate” and he also seems to review for a larger established food magazine in which the bad review had also appeared.

Carl can’t help but reread the lashing of words, now with a press photo of himself repurposed for the blog.

He clicks the link of his photo and it takes him to the original article in FOOD & WINE MAGAZINE from almost a decade ago that touted Carl Casper: MOST PROMISING CHEFS. Carl Casper stands in a chefs coat with arms crossed sporting his culinary forearm tattoos. “THE MAVERICK WITH MUSCLE” is engraved below the artistic portrait in tattoo lettering. The deco architecture of SOUTH BEACH, MIAMI looms behind him.

JUMP TO Carl eating cold leftovers as he reads Ramsey Michel’s blog again and clicks links to other pages.

JUMP TO Carl eating a bowl of cereal as he looks at Ramsey Michel’s twitter profile and CLICKS THE BUTTON to REPLY to @RamseyMichel...

Carl hits send and crashes to bed. Hitchcock shot pushing in on his phone... The twitter feed starts to fill rapidly...

Magical CLOSE CUTS of: eggs being broken. Whisked. Crackling in a seasoned iron skillet. Bacon curling. Biscuits rolled and floured. Steaming as they’re pulled from an outdated oven in a humble kitchen.

Espresso made in an old aluminum stovetop Primula. Home fries perfectly browned. Oranges hand juiced.

As Carl toils in the kitchen, his sleepy nine year old son zombie walks to the breakfast table and waits for breakfast and clearheadedness.

He checks out dad’s phone and is puzzled.

Percy, curious, checks his feed and @ mentions. He is concerned.

Carl reads his iPhone. He has now fully discovered the dark side of the social networking. Tony and Martin are gathered in looking at their phones too.

Carl starts typing.

Carl clicks SEND. There is a stillness in the air. Such a quiet little gesture is now being read by thousands of people.

Carl hustles out leaving Martin and Tony quietly behind. A foreboding moment hangs in Carl’s wake.

Carl scoops up Percy who sits with Molly in the empty dining area.

Carl drives Percy home.

Percy is disappointed.

Carl pulls up and Inez is waiting by the curb.

Carl and Inez sit in her home office as she leaves a message.

That biting comment ends the conversation.

We reveal that Percy was listening from outside the room unbeknownst to his parents. This is the last thing he wanted to hear.

Carl bursts in with arms full of groceries. There is a buzz in the kitchen.

Molly heads in as Carl lays out ingredients.

Riva walks in. The Grim Reaper.

Fuck. Everyone is uncomfortable.

Wow. This hurts.

No outburst. He removes his apron and grabs his knife bag.

He leaves. No one takes this lightly. The air is heavy.

Carl unpacks the mountain of groceries and, through a tapestry of images set to Cuban acoustic folk guitar and vocals, we see him assemble the menu he had planned for that night at Gauloises restaurant.

CROSS CUT WITH:

We follow Molly, dressed to the nines, as she seats guests. The bar is full. Diners are cued at the hostess stand. Tables are full. Molly looks up as the camera evolves into an OVER of a GUEST who has entered. Molly looks up and visibly tenses as she recognizes the DINER. She leads him to a two top that is set and waiting with a “reserved” sign on it.

He sits and we dramatically reveal it to be RAMSEY MICHEL from the blog photo. He politely accepts a menu.

His confusion reading the selections available is INTERCUT with Carl’s solitary preparations in his home kitchen.

Ramsey Michel waves over Molly.

Riva interrupts, gladhanding the VIP.

Molly seems queasy and conflicted as she attends to the request.

He meticulously plates each dish. He sits surrounded by the feast. A lonely party with no guests. Night has fallen.

Then the eating begins. A taste from each plate. He logs on to twitter and sees there are a staggering amount of mentions. He attempts to compose a tweet. It appears on screen as a Chyron as he types:

He then DELETES the post before ever hitting send.

He surfs. GOOGLES himself. Never a good idea. A page of search results come up. Snippets of his history.

Pics of him posing outside a MIAMI FRENCH RESTAURANT.

Features of him as a promising new chef from the Miami Herald. Time Out. New York Times. LA Times.

New head chef of Gauloises. Lots of hype. Good reviews from years ago celebrating the fresh new menu at Gauloises. A promise of great things to come.

Then he checks the twitter feed. There is a fresh post by @RamseyMichel:

Carl is afraid, shocked, disgusted and infuriated.

At his table in Gauloises, Ramsey Michel puts away his cell phone as he ambiguously pecks at a caviar egg.

Molly is on the house phone. The kitchen is slammed. Martin sweats at the grill. Dishes stack at the washing station. Tony struggles in his new role as Chef de Cuisine. Riva storms in, totally flustered...

CAMERA SLAMS into Molly’s face as she realizes...

She looks through the porthole to the front of house.

The front door flies open. Carl charges in like a Brahma bull. SLAM into Carl as he looks around. Then he sees Ramsey Michel preoccupied with postprandular texting. Riva sees and gets in Carl’s face to intercept the confrontation. Afro- Cuban percussion swells the SCORE as blood rises.

Carl pushes past him and calls to Ramsey Michel’s table. The restaurant falls silent. Ramsey looks up as we PUSH IN to his bemused expression.

Cell phone cameras start popping up like prairie dogs.

Ramsey calmly rises, leaves a generous tip and evenly and quietly offers to Carl...

Ramsey walks out, unfazed. Carl is left alone in a forest of staring video phones and flashing cameras. Martin, Molly, Tony, and Riva all watch as Carl is frozen with numb fog.

Tight on a laptop screen featuring a TMZ.com article. It is a video clip of Carl’s outburst in Gauloises the night before with the headline “HOLLYWOOD CHEF GOES POSTAL ON FOOD CRITIC.” Reveal we are in...

Carl is on the phone with Inez’s publicist JEN, who we CROSS CUT with in her...

Jen is dressed very smart behind her desk in a sandblasted brick loft space.

He switches over and it’s Inez. We CROSS CUT the call with her...

Inez sits in her home office on the phone with Carl.

She looks over to Percy who sits on the couch playing on an iPad. He is half listening and knows it’s not good from the half of the call he can hear.

She does.

No one can see, but Inez is holding back tears.

Inez looks down to Percy’s iPad. He was watching father’s outburst on TMZ. He knows what’s happening.

Camera pushes into the bar revealing Martin, Tony, Molly and other Gauloises staff drinking after closing. The drinkers each stop talking and look towards camera. Carl steps in to what we realize is a moving OVER. They all seem both embarrassed and happy to see him. Silence is broken by...

They all gather in around him, clapping him on the shoulder.

JUMP CUTS of interactions lubricated by shots of aged RUM:

Martin and Carl are pressed into the rail

Tony joins them at the bar.

Carl waves for another round and his smile fades and SOUND drops out as he locks eyes with the sad smiling face of Molly.

Carl and Molly smoke a joint. The mood is much different from last time they did this. Molly is a bit gloomy and Carl is out of fight.

Carl takes a last hit.

Before he leaves...

Carl knocks on the door. A cleaning lady answers.

Flora goes to get him. Inez has spotted Carl at the door and approaches.

MOMENTS LATER

Carl and Inez sit in her meticulously groomed backyard garden. Two gardeners primp at the foliage.

She politely waves them off for privacy.

They sit quietly in the idyllic garden. We see that Percy was watching the whole thing from his second story window.

He seems pleased. SCORE BUILDS with PIANO, CLAPPING and CONGAS into BANG BANG by Joe Cuba and prelaps us into the jet- wash of...

A beautifully golden backlit shot of a 777 landing with a swirl of exhaust.

A limo weaves its way toward SOUTH BEACH. Pastel architectural icons pass set against the azure waves. The limo eventually arrives at the..

Inez, Percy and Carl all enter the hotel dressed for Miami.

They walk through the retro lobby.

They arrive in the opulent suite with soaring views of South Beach.

OFF LOOK:

A MERCEDES drives through the streets of Little Havana. Carl, Inez, and Percy sit in the back. They are all dressed up Miami style. Percy looks out the window.

The three of them sit in a packed black box nightclub no larger than a storefront restaurant. The walls are lined with black and white photos of Cuban entertainers from the past. The decor is pre-Castro Cuba.

The family sits at a tiny cocktail table on a riser and there is not one square inch free in the entire club. The tiny stage is packed with MUSICIANS, but none play. An old Cuban man in a white hat and guayabera sits at the piano. This is Percy’s ABUELITO(grandfather). He breaks the silence by playing the simple line of a salsa melody. A huge cheer rises from the crowd. Percy is confused. His mom cheers and yells.

The other band members begin to join in along with three drummers. The place erupts into a huge dance floor as everyone dances at their tables including Inez.

Carl stands him up on the chair and Carl starts to dance too. He shows Percy how to salsa.

Then Abuelito starts to sing. His deep woody voice is still powerful and full of soul. The backup singers dance and sing in call and response. It is a carnival.

Inez and Carl are now dancing together, as a couple, and Percy seems very happy to watch them. He begins to dance how his father showed him.

LATER

Establishing shot of a colorful restaurant in Little Havana.

Abuelito holds court as Percy sleeps with his head in his grandfather’s lap. The bar is closed and the guests smoke Cuban cigars and sip aged Bacardi. The decor is a colorful melange of paintings, folk art and a repurposed bar salvaged from Sinatra’s South Beach nightclub from the sixties.

A few of the musicians sit informally at tables and play an acoustic guitar and drums.

Abuelo sits, speaking in Spanish to Inez and Carl. She translates for Carl. He calls out to the HOST.

As she translates, a sack of wrapped CUBAN SANDWICHES arrives. Carl’s eyes light up as he unwraps one.

Abuelo starts to sing, joining the musicians at the other table. He crosses to the jam session. Carl and Inez help hold the sleeping boy as Abuelo gets up. They are now sitting together, their son sharing their laps. Carl offers her a bite. Her hands are full.

Carl thinks. She knows what he’s thinking.

A cab drops Carl off at a construction yard outside of Miami. Rows of construction vehicles and cranes are lined up poised to build things.

Carl enters and speaks to a RECEPTIONIST who sits before a bustling bullpen of cubicles.

MARVIN sits in a large office adorned with photos of construction and development projects and sports memorabilia. A golden shovel hangs on the wall. Carl walks in with reticence. Marvin bear hugs him.

He starts to leave.

A busted white roach coach chugs up to Carl, howling and whining.

Carl is on the phone with Martin as he pulls apart the truck’s interior.

Inez pulls up in an SUV with Percy.

Percy jumps into the truck like a play structure. Carl pulls her aside.

Pregnant pause is interrupted by Percy popping out the roof vent.

She gets into the SUV.

She pulls away. They look at each other.

Carl is under the hood, changing belts.

Percy flushes out the interior with a hose.

Father and son remove the burners.

Father and son walk down the aisles of majestic stainless steel.

Carl holds up a Sawzall.

CUT TO another aisle.

CUT TO check out. Carl swipes his credit card.

A pallet with the new stove sits on the tarmac next to the dilapidated food truck. It looks huge and heavy.

He calls out to some Latino LABORERS who are lounging around on some parked equipment.

They push it. It’s huge. He goes over to a rolling jack.

They ignore him. He slides it under the palette, but it only goes up a few inches.

He is interrupted by a familiar voice off screen.

Martin whistles loudly and chirps some spirited pleasantries to the Latino workers who all hustle over to help.

TIME CUT as it is slid into place.

Carl and Percy select meats and produce.

Then the baked goods...

Cuban music plays as Carl and Martin work side by side assembling the sandwiches. Martin pulls the roast pork out of the oven. Percy watches, perched on the counter.

CUTS OF them cooking like a four handed machine. Tight shots of the culinary ballet. The food comes alive to the music.

It sizzles.

He whacks it into three bites.

All three eat.

They throw open the awning and call out to the workers sipping the beer they got for helping with the stove. It is now...

CUTS OF the assembly line chugging along. Percy sweats it out as he works the plancha. The workers call out in enthusiasm. They approve of the meal.

The sandwiches fly out the window and the line grows. Other workers gather. No one is turned away.

Carl rejects a sandwich. Into the bin.

Martin and Carl share a dour look. Carl beckons Percy to follow him out the back of the truck. A quiet moment.

He gives his son a big kiss.

Christmas lights hang from the awning. The three cooks sit in folding chairs basking in the afterglow of a good service. They sip beers. Martin smokes a cigar. He hands Percy a beer.

He smiles and holds up a text.

The valet stand is hopping with guests and cars. Hip lounge electronica bleeds out from the hip lobby. Carl is in his cooking whites. Percy is dressed like a miniature line cook. They have their bags piled up for the cross-country journey. Inez stands before them, admiring her two men.

Their conversation is slowly drowned out by an annoyingly loud passing CAR STEREO. It gets louder and louder until everyone looks over from the valet area.

CLOSE CUTS over details of the customized FOOD TRUCK:

Throbbing exterior SPEAKERS,

CHROMED RIMS and CURB FEELERS,

A Cuban/graffiti/tattoo inspired paint job that occupies every square inch of the vehicle’s exterior.

Above the windscreen, engraved in Olde English tattoo lettering “EL JEFE” with two crossed pirate blades, except one is a chef’s knife and ones a two-tonged meat fork.

Martin pulls up to the curb. Percy lights up.

The truck cruises past the Scarface “Chainsaw Hotel” (728 Ocean) as everyone watches them pass and hears the Cuban rhythms ringing out from the PA.

They land at a open stretch of the crowded strip. They pop open and Carl scratches out a short and simple menu on a chalkboard:

CUBANOS, MIDNIGHT SANDWICHES, MENUDO, ARROZ CON POLLO, FRIED PLANTAINS.

Boom. That’s it. Simple. He hangs the sign. A crowd forms immediately. The music blasts and the three guys dance as they work. Martin jumps on the PA mic.

Some are there to try the food, some to video the tourist spectacle of this painted monstrosity.

People like the food. Everyone is at least curious. Of course, the COPS come.

People start booing the cops. Percy jumps out and videos with his phone. Martin gets on the PA.

The cop climbs into the truck and stands in the window with him. The crowd cheers as they pose together. Everyone is dancing to the music. Percy videos and takes pictures, as does the entire crowd.

JUMP TO them pulling away with people following and waving like kids behind an ice cream truck.

Carl drives. Percy pecks away at his cell phone. Posting Instagram pix and videos.

They proudly drive past the Disneyworld exit.

Martin drives as the other two sleep.

The food truck pulls into the French Quarter and park. Music bleeds out from the bars. The music shares a common lineage with the Afro-Cuban sound of Little Havana.

Martin starts the burners. Carl and Percy hop out the back.

Percy takes a digital picture. He types on his phone.

They walk into a bakery and eat Beignets.

They walk back and there’s a huge crowd gathered around, waiting for the truck to open.

He loads up in the back and the crowd CHEERS for him. Carl waves. People take pictures. They duck inside.

He holds up his phone. An Instagram pic of the truck in the French Quarter. “Now you see us now you don’t. El Jefe cruising Frenchman Street #NOLA #ElJefe”

Carl writes the menu on the chalkboard. Martin throws open the window. The crowd clamors for sandwiches, Fists full of cash.

MONTAGE of the three men cooking in tandem. The crowd is slamming them. Percy is having problems keeping up.

They share a smile of comraderie. The kid is picking up moves.

The crowd slowly peels away from the truck. Something down the street is distracting them. They head towards it.

They all step out. They see a parade heading their way. Martin looks out as the crowd comes toward them.

They all watch as the Second Line passes. The impromptu marching band plays a Dixieland version on I’LL FLY AWAY. SIDEWALK STEPPERS dance behind the band.

Percy watches intensely. His dad hoists him onto his shoulders. They sway to the music.

The music carries us over the...

El Jefe chugs down the highway.

Inez picks up her phone in her house.

CROSS CUT WITH:

The truck is parked near Sixth Street and the crowd is even bigger than New Orleans. A STEVIE RAY VAUGHAN cover rattles out from a blues club.

He slides the phone into Carl’s nape as he smiles for a camera flash and serves a Medianoche.

She clicks through Yelp and Pinterest pages of the food truck posted by fans. The user ratings are very high. It clearly has a growing following.

Martin and Percy both are surprised but pleased by what appeared to be an ambiguous show of affection. The crowd calls out for more.

Carl scrawls “SOLD OUT” over the menu on the chalkboard. Martin slams closed the gate.

Carl and Martin sip beers on the truck and watch a street corner BLUES BAND Percy clicks strings of letters into his phone, documenting everything.

The electric blues guitar cries through its pignose into the night as we...

FADE UP on SHOTS of VENICE and LA.

El Jefe is parked in a lot on Abbot Kinney Boulevard. Martin works the stoves inside. Carl pulls fresh baked bread out of the oven.

He then sits at a small round table with two folding chairs. Jen, the publicist, is waiting there for him overdressed for the informal setting. Carl scribbles the menu on a chalkboard. Soothing Cuban folk music quietly croons from the PA.

The Boulevard is packed. It is FIRST FRIDAYS, when the vendors and food trucks rule the night. The entire area is packed with people and closed to traffic. Percy works the griddle. Carl presses cubanos and Martin serves.

The truck’s music makes the whole crowd bounce, and the line stretches down the street. Inez even helps by taking orders.

She looks down and sees it is Ramsey Michel, the critic whose review and accompanying outburst video went viral and ruined Carl’s life.

He pulls out a wrapped sandwich and goes. Carl is dumbstruck. Martin steps down.

A HORN RUSH blares into the night air as we see the newly opened restaurant “EL JEFE.”

It’s built into an old house on the residential block of Rose Avenue in Venice. White Christmas lights sparkle along the gables. A sign reads “Closed For Private Event.”

We enter and push past a bustling interior, rustic Cuban decor, and CAMERA weaves through wedding decorations and cake. Countless platters of Cuban cuisine.

We TRACK out into the backyard to see a churning dance floor as Percy’s grandfather, Abuelito sings before a giant salsa band. We see Inez in a wedding dress and Carl is her groom once again. A banner congratulates Carl and Inez on their nuptials. Tony, Molly, and the staff of Gauloises are all guests. So is Ramsey Michel.

Martin, in a suit, fights his way to the microphone. Abuelo signals the band to play quiet so Martin can make his toast.

Everyone cheers. Especially Percy. He dances with his parents as the band kicks into overdrive.

We PULL BACK to a rooftop shot of the glowing backyard in a sparkling city.