Nothing about this feels sanitized. That's a good sign.
When the news broke that A24 was producing a biopic on Anthony Bourdain—titled simply Tony—the reaction was… complicated. That's no surprise. Bourdain wasn't just a TV host or a culinary provocateur. He was a force of nature. Raw. Restless. Allergic to bullshit.
So what happens when a man who reveled in smashing façades becomes the subject of one of Hollywood's most façade-heavy formats: the biopic?
Let's just say—it's a delicious contradiction.
Dominic Sessa Steps Into Big Boots (and Maybe Even Bigger Expectations)
First up, casting. Dominic Sessa, who made waves in The Holdovers, is playing young Tony. It's a bold move. Sessa's still green, but that might work in his favor. Bourdain, at least in 1976 Provincetown, was still a rough draft of the icon he'd become. This role doesn't need polish. It needs edge.
And then there's Antonio Banderas—whose role remains under wraps. Could he be playing a mentor? A figment of Tony's psyche? Or perhaps a composite of the many misfit sages that shaped Bourdain's path?
We're not told yet. But the choice of Banderas adds gravitas. There's a certain lived-in fire to his performances—exactly the kind of human depth Bourdain demanded from the people he put on screen.
The Matt Johnson Factor: Why “Tony” Might Break the Biopic Mold
Enter director Matt Johnson (BlackBerry). If you saw that film, you know he brings chaos with precision. Think rapid zooms, shaky handheld shots, and an editing rhythm that hits like jazz. It's not just kinetic—it's intimate.
Apply that same energy to the life of young Bourdain in Provincetown? Suddenly you're not watching a wax figure of Tony deliver clichés in a smoky kitchen. You're living inside his hangover. You're tasting the salt air of a town that probably smelled like cigarettes, regret, and clams casino.
If Johnson stays true to form, Tony won't feel like Oscar bait. It'll feel like a punch in the gut—which is exactly how Bourdain wrote his breakout memoir, Kitchen Confidential.
Would Bourdain Have Hated This? Probably. And That's Perfect.
There's a twisted irony here. Bourdain wasn't one for legacy polishing. He was self-deprecating, skeptical of stardom, and wary of posthumous tributes. So yes, he might have hated the idea of this film.
But here's the twist: If Tony can channel that discomfort—if it can embrace the chaos, contradiction, and unresolvable hunger that defined Bourdain—then maybe it's exactly the kind of story he'd want told.
Not a hagiography. Not a brand-safe mural.
A mess. A masterpiece. A question with no answer.
A24's Real Gamble? Authenticity Over Approval
Hollywood doesn't often make films that resist audience approval. But maybe this is one. Maybe Tony will do for biopics what Bourdain did for food TV—rip it apart, boil it down, and serve it raw.
Think of it like this: If Netflix is the Cheesecake Factory of content—perfectly plated, predictable portions—A24 is that street food cart you stumble on at 2 a.m. Something weird, something risky. Maybe even something unforgettable.
Is Tony for Bourdain fans—or for Bourdain himself?
That's the question every biopic secretly asks. Who's this really for?
And in this case, the answer might be neither.
It might be for the kid in a dead-end kitchen who hasn't found their voice yet.
Or the traveler who doesn't know what they're searching for, only that it isn't here.
Or the misfit who sees beauty in the broken things.
In other words—it might be for all of us.
