A Matter of Taste

The writing, by Rapp and Catherine Dussart, is exquisite, and the performers, including Francois Truffaut's old colleague Jean-Pierre Leaud as a magistrate, are all first-rate.

Deliciously dark tale of insidious seduction.

This deliciously nasty French deconstruction of male pecking orders, directed by Bernard Rapp, should send a pleasant shiver down the spine of anyone who has ever obsessed about wanting to please a devious and manipulative boss.

A Matter of Taste, French director Bernard Rapp's polished second film, swims in lies, ones that sate at first, but soon intoxicate, seduce, and drown.

The two lead performances are so good it contains more emotional depth than it probably has a right to.

There are also food scenes that will whet your appetite. But somehow a satisfying climax never makes it out of the oven.

A Matter of Taste's largest handicap is restraint: It's too tasteful. The climactic crisis is a broken leg, and the off-screen denouement is unimaginative.