TV Review: "Carême" (S1, Eps. 1-4)

The new Apple series is a delicious delight, with lots of sex, food, and political machinations, all against the backdrop of Napoleonic France.

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Warning: Spoilers for the series follow.

If you’ve been a reader of this newsletter for any length of time–or even if you just know anything about me–you’ll know that the period drama remains one of my favorite genres, whether in film or TV. I was thus quite excited to see that Apple TV has a new French series available for streaming, Carême. Let me begin by saying that this series is unabashedly horny, with lots of twists and turns and suspense. It’s one of those series that just draws you in from the beginning, refusing to let you go until you’ve blazed through one episode after another.

As one might gather from the title, the major character of the series is Marie-Antoine Carême, played with insouciant and rakish élan by Benjamin Voisin. When the series begins he is apprenticed to Bailly, a master baker. Once his master and adoptive father falls afoul of Napoleon, however, he’s drawn deeper and deeper into the world of espionage and politics. In particular, he finds himself ensnared in the various schemings of Charles-Maurice de Talleyrand-Périgord (Jérémie Renier), who has his own ambitions when it comes to the First Consul. This, in turn, puts him in the path of the dangerous Minister of Police, Joseph Fouché (Micha Lescot). And while all of this is going on, Carême is also carrying on an affair with Henriette (Lyna Khoudri), who has her own fair share of secrets.

The thing about Carême that we learn right away is that he really does care about Bailly, and he really does seem to believe that Napoleon is bad for France and for its future. Many of his actions in the first several episodes revolve around trying to rescue his foster father from the cruel clutches of Fouché, even while he also has to navigate the tricky situations that de Talleyrand repeatedly embroils him in. There’s a piercing intensity to Voisin’s performance that makes you fall a little in love with this character, and you can appreciate both his appeal to members of the opposite sex as well as his culinary skill (though his efforts at espionage are a mixed bag, to be sure).

For all that Carême is the center of the story, he is surrounded by a fascinating set of supporting characters. One of the more notable of these is Agathe (Alice Da Luz), who is working in Napoleon’s kitchen when Carême first meets her but then joins him in working for de Talleyrand. What’s particularly refreshing about their relationship is that it seems to be, in the first three episodes at least, one founded on mutual culinary respect rather than romantic or sexual attraction. Agathe isn’t afraid to put Carême in his place when he’s being an idiot or self-indulgent.

Likewise, Jérémie Renier gives a nuanced and complex performance as Charles-Maurice de Talleyrand-Périgord. Given that Talleyrand is always seen through Carême’s eyes, it’s sometimes difficult to make out just what his own ambitions may be, but what is clear is that he is a savvy and at times ruthless political operator, someone who has a keen understanding of the way that power works. At the same time, we also know that he has a heart, though his relationship with his mistress–whom he is ultimately forced to take on as his wife–is far more complex than either of them would probably like.

Equally compelling, and more than a little disconcerting, is Micha Lescot as Joseph Fouché. With just a twist of his full lips, he manages to convey so much of what makes this character so chilling yet so irresistibly compelling. As he draws ever closer to our hero and his role in an attempt to assassinate Napoleon, it’s clear that he’s not going to rest until he’s destroyed anyone and everyone who may pose a threat to the First Consul.

Obviously, given that this is a series about a master chef and baker, the camera dwells with loving attention on his culinary creations, and Carême gives you a renewed appreciation for French cuisine (even if one is sometimes unpleasantly reminded of just how unsanitary Napoleonic kitchens were). At the same time, it pays equal attention to the espionage of it all, and time and again, Carême makes it clear that our intrepid and irreverent young hero is playing a very dangerous game. These are, after all, unsettled times for France, with Napoleon now sitting at the top of the state while royalists conspire in the shadows. The great man himself only makes sporadic appearances in the first three episodes, but when he does he is almost always brooding, and his wife Josephine, while more outgoing than her husband, is still a sphinx-like figure. Carême’s seduction of her earns him her undying hatred, and I don’t think we’ve seen the last of her.

This all leads up to the fourth episode, in which Carême is recruited to try to convince the exiled King Louis XVIII to renounce his claim to the French throne and accept a financial arrangement that will allow him to live in relative prosperity in his home country. By this point it’s clear that France is roiled by conflict and that the Revolution has not been nearly as successful at remaking all of France as its architects would like to think. The scenes in Louis’ dilapidated Polish palace are perfectly-executed, revealing the diminished state in which the exiled Bourbon has been dwelling. In fact, the whole episode is a delight, and it heightens the stakes in almost every way, with the revelation that Henriette sabotaged Carême’s efforts.

As it turns out, Henriette has been in the service of Fouché all along but Carême, rather than spurning his lover for her betrayal, he instead embraces her. To me, this was a refreshing surprise, and it demonstrates the extent to which our hero, despite his rakish attitude and his irreverence toward everyone and everything, really does love this extraordinary young woman and wants to offer her what comfort he can. He may be a bit of a rascal, but he has a heart of gold, at least until you cross him and hurt those he loves.

The fourth episode is, I think, the strongest of the first half of the season, and the ending is particularly piercing and haunting. As Carême glares at Fouché–whose guard has killed Bailly by shooting him in the back–it’s clear that he has his sights set on the other man and that he is not going to be content until he has destroyed the man who has taken so much away from him. One can hardly blame him in this regard, since Fouché is definitely a real bastard devoid of even the faintest trace of human warmth. Though he likes to think that he has all of the power, it’s clear that he has more than met his match in this wily chef.

Overall, I would say that the first four episodes of this series are quite delectable. As other critics have pointed out, it is quintessentially French, but this is precisely what makes it so appealing. It manages to blend together sex, espionage, and food in a heady mix. It’s clear that, as the season goes on, Carême is going to find it increasingly challenging to both stay out of the hands of those who would destroy him and get revenge on those same people. If anyone can do it, though, it would be the man who has never met a problem he couldn’t solve with a wink, a dash of charm, and a fabulous dish.