Review: Chef

City Paper grade: B+

Little details make a big difference in Jon Favreau’s searingly sincere peek into the insecure world of modern chefs, where passion and creativity fight for breath amid a crush of egos as puffy as well-set soufflés. It’s the feel-good movie version of a proper reuben: The second it’s dropped in front of you, you know exactly what it’s going to taste like, and you are happy about it. A former hotshot who’s lost direction but refuses to admit it, Carl Casper (writer/director Favreau) walks out on his cantankerous boss (Dustin Hoffman) after a brutal writeup from a wide-reaching web critic (Oliver Platt). The chef, who’s got all the markings (knife tattoo) and habits (sipping agua from quart containers) of a longtime burner ballerina, begins a viral Twitter spat with the reviewer and later parlays the buzz into a food truck he hopes will coax him back into relevance. L.A. restaurateur Roy Choi, brought in as a consultant, lends an energy and credibility to Favreau’s kitchen scenes, nailing the coarse vernacular and emphasizing a reality food movies often fudge: cooking’s a lot of damn work. There’s never any question whether or not cheffy will get his groove back, but the predictability of the proceedings is tempered by the growth of Casper’s bond with his young son (Emjay Anthony), who’s eager to pick up pop’s trade. Favreau mostly avoids culinary cliche by reminding us that many sets of human hands are responsible for what’s placed on your plate.