Tony (2026) Review

Anthony Bourdain was never just a chef. After years in the rough-and-tumble world of professional kitchens, his memoir ‘Kitchen Confidential’ made him an unlikely literary star, while the shows ‘No Reservations’ and ‘Parts Unknown’ transformed food and travel television. He wasn't interested in glossy hotels or ticking landmarks off a list; he wanted to sit down with people, eat what they ate and understand the places he visited on their own terms. Food was merely the way in. With a mix of curiosity, cynicism and humour, Bourdain made the world feel bigger, stranger and more interesting. Even after his tragic death in 2018, his voice continued to resonate.

Matt Johnson’s ‘Tony’ looks back at the man behind the unmistakable persona. Set in 1975, it follows a 19-year-old Bourdain, who, after failing to secure a writing fellowship in New York, heads to Provincetown, Massachusetts, in pursuit of a girl named Nancy. The film opens with Bourdain’s own brutally candid assessment of his younger self: “I was, to be frank, a spoiled, miserable, narcissistic, self-destructive and thoughtless young lout.” It’s an unflattering introduction to the young Bourdain, who soon finds himself drawn into the chaotic world of a restaurant, beginning a relationship with the industry that lasted for decades.

Written by Johnson, Todd Bartels, Lou Howe and Matthew Miller- and based on stories from ‘Kitchen Confidential’- ‘Tony’ is an amuse-bouche, a small taste of what lies ahead, offering an early glimpse of a teenager destined to become an icon. Absorbing throughout, the film is a character study of, as Billy Joel put it, an “Angry Young Man.”

A quite unlikable one on paper. A self-centred, compulsive liar, Tony- as he likes to be known- manipulates and mistreats those around him whenever it suits his needs. Yet Johnson doesn't simply present him as a one-dimensional character. He's adrift, frustrated by the sense that his ambitions are slipping beyond his reach, unsure of what to do with himself. Provincetown is something of a crossroads, where a job in The Flagship restaurant offers him an unexpected sense of purpose.

There he meets the good-natured Chef José Vatel, who gives him a chance to learn the ropes. He also befriends Sal, a volatile, drug-taking cook, whose squandered opportunities and messy lifestyle offer a glimpse of the person Tony could become. Their relationship, along with the bond that develops between himself, Vatel and the rest of the workers gives the kitchen the feeling of a strange, dysfunctional family.

The characterisation is particularly nuanced: Sal isn't simply a cautionary tale, while Vatel isn't merely the kindly mentor preaching the value of hard work. Tony takes everyone around him for granted, repeatedly putting his own interests ahead of theirs, yet by the end there is hope on the horizon, suggesting that perhaps this deeply flawed young man might find his way.

The relationship between Tony and Nancy is nicely written, too, although could perhaps have been fleshed out a little further. In some ways, she is more of a symbol than a fully realised character- something tangible for Tony to reach for. The ending leans a little towards the mushy, though thankfully never becomes overly saccharine.

Johnson handles his themes with considerable deftness, allowing Tony's relationships to reveal his character rather than spelling out the lessons for us. Importantly, it is food- the preparation, cooking and, ultimately, eating of it- that brings these people together. As he learns to shuck oysters and cook lobster, The Flagship becomes a place of connection and belonging. For Tony, food is the way in.

Although ‘Tony’ is a fast-paced film, Johnson allows moments of contemplation to slow things down. These quieter passages give the story room to breathe, preventing its momentum from becoming exhausting. By contrast, the kitchen sequences are suitably hectic, with Michael Bauman’s fluid cinematography capturing the bustle and energy of the environment. You get a palpable sense of what it’s like to work under pressure, with orders flying, dishes piling up and everyone scrambling to keep pace.

Meanwhile, Ryan Warren Smith’s production design convincingly recreates the 1970s without laying the period detail on too thick, while Curt Lobb and Robert Upchurch’s editing keeps everything moving at a brisk pace. It is a film that rarely feels static, yet knows when to linger. On the other hand, though lovely in places, Johnson’s frequent collaborator Jay McCarrol’s score can occasionally be a little overbearing.

Dominic Sessa does fine work as Tony, subtly conveying the character’s internal angst beneath his arrogant bluster. He doesn't attempt to impersonate Bourdain, which proves a wise choice. Instead, Sessa makes him feel like a living, breathing young man rather than a mere imitation. His performance captures Tony’s contradictions particularly well: obnoxious and selfish one moment, vulnerable and uncertain the next.

As Chef Vatel, the always reliable Antonio Banderas has rarely been better. Underplaying the role masterfully, he carries an air of sadness and grace, while his natural gravitas gives the character an authority that never feels forced. There is a fascinating quietness to Banderas’ performance; he seems to carry a whole life with him without ever explaining it. It is a real pleasure whenever he is on screen.

Leo Woodall brings an air of unpredictability to Sal. Charming but dangerous, seemingly cool and confident, Woodall makes Sal unsettlingly magnetic; someone who could turn at any moment. Emilia Jones gets less to do as Nancy, but brings warmth and intelligence to a character who, as noted earlier, is perhaps more symbolic than fully realised.

Ultimately, Matt Johnson’s ‘Tony’ is a thoughtful portrait of the young Anthony Bourdain. Rather than turning him into a saint, Johnson presents Tony as a deeply flawed teenager struggling to find himself. With strong performances and a lively sense of time and place, the film succeeds as both a character study and an origin story. Like an amuse-bouche, it offers a tantalising taste of the man he would eventually become. It is, simply put, delicious.