THE COOK, THE THIEF, HIS WIFE AND HER LOVER: A Dystopian Tale of Sadism Offers More Humanity to Abuse Survivors Than Most Documentaries on the Subject

The Cook, The Thief, His Wife, and Her Lover opens with mafia goons smearing dog shit onto a helpless indebted man, set up to undoubtedly establish the nature of primary mob boss, Albert, and the spirit of his authority. While his cruelty is shown repeatedly throughout the film, it’s not because the audience ever questions it. No redeemable qualities are ever shown that warrant a reminder of his abusive nature. Instead, his acts are relentless because Albert himself is relentless, and his obsession with torture is not the story, but the scenery.

The real tale being told is that of his wife, Georgina, played by the ever-captivating Helen Mirren. Her plot revolves around her affair with a studious stranger who catches her eye while he is eating alone in Albert’s restaurant, across from the large dining table Albert procures nightly – a repeated setting for men in Albert’s favor to gleefully assault restaurant patrons and staff, using the place to bathe themselves in the luxury of fine dining but never to appreciate it. A love story builds with this quiet stranger who is the antithesis of Albert, and the beauty of it is that it’s never meant to give Georgina a knight in shining armor, or a savior to sweep her away from her tormentor since she cannot do it herself. In fact, the demure, passive, and kind but passionate librarian Georgina falls for could never and would never take on her husband in a battle for her honor. A refreshing change of pace from the common Disney fairytale of two suitors duking it out, while the woman involved is only an object of their desire, sitting pretty as a proverbial trophy. What Georgina’s new lover will do, however, is adore her just as relentlessly as her husband hunts her. The wife’s lover is unable to save himself, much less the woman he loves, but he is unafraid to meet his inevitable end if only for a few stolen moments.

My title is held up by all of these extravagant and perfectly placed supporting characters, plus the character of Georgina herself. The true star of this film, her character is given so much life and complexity compared to most depictions of abused women on screen. She is unquestionably the victim of horrific acts, and simultaneously defiant, sexy, and lustful – her ultimate act of rebellion is romantic pleasure that is almost never shown as an option for survivors once their story is rewritten, chopped and screwed for cinematic voyeurism. This is an incredible feat for a film that released in the golden year of 1989, when victim blaming was even more in its prime than now. If you kept up with the Stanford rape case, or remember the fast freedom of John Bobbitt, or read the headlines about Anita Hill, you know making a film based around violence against women and maintaining audience support for the woman in the feature is a large task. Many people struggle to accept that women are not at fault for their own abuse, and in the real world the dynamics of abuse are often much more complicated. Survivors’ stories are warped by the intricacies of real life and generations of false psychology, propagating that women are just crazy or probably asking for it (shout out to Freud). 

Director Peter Greenaway cuts through all of this, maybe purposefully or maybe not, by rolling the audience the softball of Albert who is the most textbook villain of all time. There is no room for even the most skeptical audience member to turn a blind eye, ergo his character being the perfect backdrop to Georgina’s revolt. Anything she does goes, because who could possibly deserve a cheating wife more than this madman? Who could possible deserve happiness more than his imprisoned wife? No one can fault Helen Mirren standing nude in various pantries, showing off black lingerie during her salacious seconds with a new love, and everyone who has lived through violence similar to her character gets to see a middle aged woman finally finding freedom within an abusive marriage, this time through feeling desire and desirable once again.

Amid a visually shocking dystopian wasteland which is run by sexual sadists and adorned with rotting meat, stray dogs, and child labor, Greenaway gives you a villain to hate and a hero to root for no matter how deranged it gets… but I won’t ruin the ending. All you need to know is Georgina stands tall, never giving up her right to tenderness. Even with the unending physical and emotional battery against her, she fills all the in-between moments with physical and emotional joy. She exists with her own thoughts, desires, and intellect apart from the many male characters who swirl in and out of what is ultimately Georgina’s film.