13 August 13 - 19, 2026 dallasobserver.com DALLAS OBSERVER Classified | MusiC | dish | Culture | unfair Park | Contents which was inspired by an early summer in the life of chef and author Anthony Bour- dain. Co-hosted by OpenTable and in- vite-only for service industry members, the evening was conceived as an opportunity to “celebrate the people who keep our industry running,” according to a spokesperson for the restaurant booking site. The show gathered a packed house at the Angelika Film Center at Mockingbird Sta- tion, including chefs, servers and workers from across the hospitality continuum. Many, like Michael Dewberry, were inspired by Bourdain’s blockbuster book, “Kitchen Confidential.” “I feel like I grew up with him,” said Dewberry (whom we met in line before the show). “Even to the end he remained unvarnished and true to himself. He never shied away from being a self-pro- claimed sellout.” Since Bourdain’s death by suicide in 2018, he has not ceased to be a constant presence in the media. His two massively popular se- ries, “No Reservations” and “Parts Un- known,” can be viewed on multiple streaming services; “Roadrunner,” a docu- mentary about Bourdain by Oscar-winner Morgan Neville, bowed in 2021; last year, Bourdain’s longtime assistant and co-author, Laurie Woolever, detailed their relationship in her memoir, “Care and Feeding.” Addi- tional posthumous books, articles and shows abound, and most have proved con- troversial among Bourdain’s fans, friends or family. Or all three. They have also kept the man himself, alternately referred to as a “bad boy chef,” “culinary adventurer,” or “acclaimed documentarian,” alive for every- one affected by his work. Dallas chef Chad Houser gave the event’s opening remarks. Houser’s restaurant, for those unfamiliar, is called Cafe Momentum. There, he em- ploys teens coming out of the juvenile justice system, youth who have otherwise been underestimated, misunderstood, or de- fined by their mistakes. Which brings us to the premise of “Tony.” Directed by Matt Johnson and written by Todd Bartels, Lou Howe, Matt Johnson and Matt Miller, the film follows a 19-year-old Anthony Bourdain through the summer of 1975 in Provincetown, Massachusetts. He fucks up, gets fucked up, tells lies, fights, smokes, steals and ultimately finds some kind of focus in the kitchen of a dive-y oyster bar. The plot is based on some of Bourdain’s own tales from that summer, but it’s not a biopic. It’s an origin story that, to us, indicates that Bourdain’s mythification era has begun. Dominic Sessa (“The Holdovers”) plays the lanky, mop-topped protagonist. Center- frame in almost every scene, he develops a crush on Nancy, played by Emilia Jones (“The Running Man”). He romanticizes her to the point of impossibility, ultimately trailing her to Cape Cod with no plan ex- cept to, well, keep following her around? Who knows. Young Anthony doesn’t ask her many questions, so we don’t really know much about her, and their love story, as it were, is limited to hangdog stares and lame attempts to impress. That said, it’s so fun to watch this story unfold. The look of Gerald Ford-era New England is in full effect – all clapboard bun- galows, sea grass and watercolor sunsets. The station wagons, bell bottoms, ringer tees and haircuts are all on-point, as well. Think “Jaws,” but remade with catalog mod- els and oversaturated in post-production. Anyway, back in the kitchen, young An- thony is taken in by Antonio Banderas, known only as Chef (after getting royally hammered at Chef’s oyster bar the previous night). Chef is the most compelling, well- rounded character in the film. As we peel back his weathered layers, like the pages of his beloved old cookbooks, we learn what, and where, Chef developed his passion for cooking. Not to be outdone by the model citi- zens of P-town, however, Banderas also looks picture-perfect in his starched whites and fisherman’s sweaters. The rest of the restaurant crew includes two endearing fuck-ups: Sal (Leo Woodall, “The White Lotus”) and Dimitri (Stavros Halkias, “Bugonia”). Sal is a womanizing drug addict, and absolutely the wrong role model for an impressionable teen. So, obvi- ously, Anthony wants to be just like him. That is, until he unpacks all of Sal’s dirty laundry. Again, this side trip is a fun ride, and even though there are needles, crime and violence involved, it maintains a certain Insta-filtered distance from reality. As “Tony” concludes, young Bourdain is redeemed, ultimately finding some of the selfless motivation that Houser described in his intro speech. No spoilers, but the film’s ending is a pretty happy one. It also nicely tees up a possible sequel. Back here in 2026, many commentators believe that the real Anthony Bourdain would’ve hated this film. But really, would he? The nature of his endurance as a world wanderer-slash-culinary curmudgeon owes a lot to his unique and sometimes unpredict- able opinions. Wasn’t it fun to watch him slurp his beloved pho, enjoying the simple soup on an almost carnal level while seem- ing to prefer a cig and cheap coffee to many of the haute plates he was served? He may have liked “Tony” just fine. It’s only a sum- mer movie after all, a little escape from the soul-crushing challenge that is day-to-day life. We all need an escape sometimes; no- body knew that better than Bourdain. “Tony” releases in select theaters this Fri- day, August 7, and nationwide on August 21. ▼ LEGAL NUGGETS BE SERIOUS, BEAVER BUC-EE’S IS SUING A TINY CORNER STORE IN OHIO AND WANTS A JURY TRIAL. SURE, DO THAT. BY LAUREN DREWES DANIELS T he high in Beavercreek, Ohio, today is 84 degrees, but you can bet things are getting hot inside the Beaver’s Mini Mart. The small corner store with no gas pumps is surrounded by tall, lush trees and sits at the corner of two country roads, a mile from Highway 35. The only Buc-ee’s in Ohio — a 74,000-square -foot store with 100 gas pumps — is 15 miles away; a 22-minute drive. It opened this April. According to The Enquirer in Cincinnati, the Texas-based mega gas station chain is going after Beaver’s Mini Mart: Be. Serious. The Dayton Daily News reports that Bea- ver’s Mini Mart “has operated under that name since around 2017,” and was once a Circle K. The logo is a brown beaver stand- ing with one arm extended. Buc-ee’s is gaining national attention for its litigious nature. It’s passing out lawsuits faster than its namesake nuggets, suing any store that even thinks about using a small animal mascot. The British Jon Stewart, John Oliver, recently dedicated an entire segment on “Last Week To- night” to the issue, starting his eyes-gleaming tirade, “Buc-ee’s loves suing other companies.” Oliver reported that the tourist-attrac- tion gas station has sued as many as a dozen companies over the years and “threatened a bunch more.” And many settle, choosing to redesign their logo rather than fuck with these beaver nuggets people. In the lawsuit, Buc-ee’s alleges “Consum- ers are likely to perceive a connection or as- sociation,” because of Beaver Mini Mart’s use of the word “Beaver’s,” its “predominant use of the color red,” and its cartoon logo. We’re wondering if Beavercreek as a town is about to get sued. The Beavercreek High School football team — an angry beaver with menacing front teeth — might want to ask its booster club, Beaver Nation, for new non-beaver jerseys. We’re all for Buc-ee’s amazing bath- rooms, endless snacks and low-gas prices. But why they discontinued the cake balls and go after small businesses in Beavercreek is a touch too much. ‘Tony’ is in theaters now. Provided by Bob Gruen
