The Brattle Hosts a "Feast for the Eyes"

Despite the cherished pretensions some of us may hold about ourselves—that we are artistically savvy, that we are cosmopolitan aesthetes—it still takes a hell of a lot to get Harvard students out of the house and into some actual cultural consumption. Even if said cultural consumption is just around the corner. If your roommate isn’t in it, if the temperature’s dropped and you have a hot Friday night date with your problem set, it’s too easy to pass on the wealth of opportunities right in the Square.

The folks at the Brattle Theater know this. That’s why they’ve dreamed up a double incentive in order to lower the average age of their audience a bit: adding food to the equation. The reasoning behind the new Thursday night Feast for the Eyes series is that the most challenging arthouse film is infinitely sweetened when a Finale tart or Temple Bar cocktail is added to the equation.

“We’re trying to broaden our audience to a younger generation that has been bombarded by blockbusters,” says Brattle Associate Director Hannah Richards, 25. “We want people who might be going to the local Cineplex to think about checking out the classics.”

Some Feast for the Eyes events are still in the planning stage, and they vary in setup. This coming Thursday, presenting a ticket stub from the sexually-charged Mexican audience-pleaser Like Water for Chocolate at Finale will get you a $17.95 appetizer and dessert combo, plus an unspecified “parting gift.” A full list is available at www.brattlefilm.org/thursday.html.

The kickoff event last Thursday was less intuitive in its choice of pairing Harvest restaurant with the Joan Crawford film noir flick Mildred Pierce. True, the film centers on an obsessive restauranteur, but why Harvest? The tony bastion of Cambridge establishment eateries, tastefully done up in autumnal heather and beige and careful New American cuisine—and manic mother-daughter competition circa 1945?

At Harvest, Richards mulls this over. “I guess it makes sense with the demographic that shows up for Joan Crawford,” she says.

Notwithstanding Richards’ good intentions, that demographic remains resolutely mature, although not excessively so. There’s some gray hair, but the vibe is more grad school than grandma; think art-yuppie horn-rimmed glasses, martinis, film talk that teeters between earnest and word-weary. We’re in the back room, apparently reserved for the restaurant’s more frugal customers—the pre-film reception plus movie entrance is only $12, and everyone’s delicately grabbing as many hors d’oeuvres as they can without actually resorting to physical violence.

The waiters are circulating selections from the Dine at Nine bar menu—yes, people come here to drink, too. The idea of dropping $7-14 on bar snacks might seem a little absurd, even here, until you contemplate Harvest’s particular conception of what should be served to drunken rich people: chicken fried oysters with Napa slaw and French quarter remoulade; tempura of yellowfin tuna sashimi with wakame, Oregon wasabi and aged shoyu; duck confit quesadilla with jack cheese, scallion and avocado salsa. We manage to snag samples of the last two, though the delectable sashimi mysteriously stops being served after only one plate. Instead, plate after plate of barbecued chicken wings are unveiled, leaving some acutely disappointed palates.

“Will there be more sashimi?” I ask, trying to keep the naked hunger out of my voice.

The waiter smiles blandly. “More chicken wings?”

So it goes when you’ve gone the cheap route. Still, even those who tired of trying to figure out how to eat chicken wings with a modicum of classiness could find solace in the plentiful duck confit quesadillas. As my foodie companion informed me, duck, fattiest of birds, can sometimes be too oily when prepared as a confit—that is, cooked in its own fat—but here, the tortilla reigns in the fattiness, buffered by the avocado salsa. The result, if not exactly health-conscious, neatly melds the populist bar-side snack with prime ingredients and cookery.

Onward to the cinema. The fabled date combination of dinner and a movie is pre-packaged; short of walking into Cabot library and dragging students by sweatshirt hoods, they couldn’t make it easier. You get a good deal for a night out, and after a few weeks on the Brattle circuit, you’ll have enough cocktail party minutiae to last you into yuppie maturity.