| Cast overview, first billed only: | |||
| Marcello Mastroianni | ... | Marcello | |
| Michel Piccoli | ... | Michel | |
| Philippe Noiret | ... | Philippe | |
| Ugo Tognazzi | ... | Ugo | |
| Andréa Ferréol | ... | Andrea (as Andréa Ferreol) | |
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Solange Blondeau | ... | Danielle |
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Florence Giorgetti | ... | Anne |
| Michèle Alexandre | ... | Nicole | |
| Monique Chaumette | ... | Madeleine | |
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Henri Piccoli | ... | Hector |
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Maurice Dorléac | ||
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Simon Tchao | ... | Le délégué de l'ambassade de Chine |
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Louis Navarre | ... | Braguti |
| Bernard Menez | ... | Pierre | |
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Cordelia Piccoli | ... | Barbara |
Four middle-aged friends and members of the professional bourgeoisie, Ugo, a chef and restaurant owner, Marcello, an incorrigible womanizer and Alitalia pilot, Michel, a delicate television producer, and Philippe, a venerable magistrate, gather for a debaucherous weekend at the latter's Parisian villa. There, as the four men prepare for a Romanesque feast, truckloads of fine food and wine arrive, accompanied by three elegant and lithe prostitutes. Without a doubt, the rapacious and degraded hedonists are determined to eat themselves to death, one elaborate morsel after another, nevertheless, for what reason? Written by Nick Riganas
Superb black comedy of an ageing quartet gathered for a feast of epic proportions in which they indulge every gluttonous whim with culinary abandon. Their erotic gorging, groping and fondling of food and flesh is both appetising and arresting, as one by one, they stuff themselves to morbidity. It's with a tinge of sadness that their food fornication gradually comes to a halt, when the last man can no longer brook another chocolate pudding or roast pig.
Those who appreciate gourmet cooking might find appeal in the vast menu, but will likely be shocked by the flatulence-passing, naked-backside food preparation techniques of these randy chefs. The cast periodically combine their appetite for food with unbridled sexual encounters while they prepare meals, to which the viewer is treated in full detail. But while the sets, costumes and dialogue are all, equally colourful, there's a distinct lack of momentum and coherent storyline in the near two-and-a-half hour epic. I submit, respectfully, there's only so many kitchen orgies one film can sustain (particularly as this isn't a loop) without a more concrete purpose.
The cast are formidable in their distinct characterisations (and appetites), and it seems as though each has resigned to his own despair at a life unfulfilled. While Mastroianni does little cooking by comparison with Piccoli, he more than compensates with his sexual appetite at any number of the prostitutes assembled for their last supper. "Le Grande Bouffe" is a raw, uncompromising comedy like no other and should be seen to be believed.