I didn’t know entirely what to expect when I went to see The Menu. I just thought it looked weird and funny, and that’s really all it takes to get me intrigued. While I certainly enjoyed the whole film, the character of Tyler stood out as an interesting commentary on how obsessive our culture has become.
From the beginning, we see that Hoult’s character, Tyler, is obsessive. He chides Margot for smoking since it will “ruin her palate,” despite the fact that she doesn’t care nearly as much about the whole experience. Despite occasionally slipping compliments into his dialogue, Tyler belittles Margot while repeatedly trying to prove to everyone around him that he knows what he’s talking about. He’s that guy at a party who wants to make sure everyone knows how much he knows about a semi-relevant topic, and Nicholas Hoult perfectly portrays that smarmy self-importance.
After we learn that Margot is an escort that Tyler brought while knowing she would die, it adds a whole new layer of grime to Tyler’s obsession. Not only is Tyler willing to die to eat the food that he has fanboyed over for ages, but he’s willing to sacrifice an unrelated and innocent person for his own pleasure. He’s so entrenched in his fandom over food that his life and the lives of others mean nothing so long as he gets to eat food prepared by Julian Slowik, who is wonderfully portrayed by Ralph Fiennes, as that would be the highest possible fulfillment of his dedication to his hobby. He’s so consumed by his interests that he sees no reason to live after hitting the peak of his fandom.
As someone who’s been in plenty of fan communities for video games, shows, and movies, I’ve absolutely met more than a few Tylers. When I was a cringey teenager, I guarantee I was a Tyler — that’s probably why I found his character so hilarious. When you’re figuring out your identity as you grow up, it’s fair that you’d cling to the stuff that makes you happy or makes you feel important. When you’re in your early 30s, like Tyler, it feels more like an absence of personality or genuine character than just a facet of who you are.
It’s especially easy to fall into this now, as pop culture is intensely pervasive. Social media has only enhanced this to the point where every week or so, there’s some big discourse about the latest streaming show or video game, which typically devolves into fans of said product debating about essentially nothing. I’ve definitely participated in that, as have most people who are passionate about some sort of entertainment. In a world where it feels like everything has been done, found, and discovered, it’s easier than ever to associate your worth with your devotion to other people’s art. But unlike Tyler, most people aren’t so far gone that they’re willing to die to prove they’re the biggest Marvel fan.
This isn’t some enlightened rant about how hollow culture has become. I like tons of pop culture and was half raised by the internet — I’m a prime example of someone consumed by popular media. So I am clearly not immune to this or in any way above it. I just deeply enjoyed Tyler’s character because of how annoying, self-important, and identifiable he was. He’s the hyperbolic representation of the path that we’re on; the (hopefully exaggerated) end result of modern fandom. Only time will tell if I look back on this article and say, “Wow. It was not exaggerated,” but if nothing else, The Menu definitely made me think a bit about my relationship with media and how that reflects on my own identity.
