everything else: so i showed up at your party
dear internet,
today i present you with a collection of my favourite examples of my favourite trope: the dinner party scene in fiction. to me a good dinner party scene ideally includes a group of people, some of whom are strangers to each other, at a physical table, a sense of being trapped, and an undercurrent of unease or anxiety. the perfect dinner party scene makes me feel like getting my phone out to search for an uber, and i would like to read approximately seventeen thousand versions of this trope done over and over again for the rest of my life, thank you very much.
god-tier: real life by brandon taylor, with a scene that made me want to excuse myself from a dining table and try not to throw up in a stranger's bathroom. the power of literature! hex by rebecca dinerstein knight, for similar vibes as well as the time-has-no-meaning unendingness of a party that goes on and on and becomes different versions of itself, all while you're getting more and more entangled in the mess that you, the dinner partygoers, have created together. in a similar vein, i capture the castle, which includes an absolutely exquisite scene in which the protagonist goes to the bathroom just to admire rich people's towels. tamsyn muir's ninth house books for one apiece: gideon the ninth for a more traditional one and harrow the ninth for possibly the most batshit scene i have ever read. conversations with friends, of course. any georgette heyer murder mystery, at some point, and always with delicious bite. mrs dalloway said she would buy the flowers herself.
on film: the platonic ideal is, of course, you've got mail. that caviar is a garnish! as well, consider: phantom thread, which does not fit my definition in the least but which accomplishes, tonally, something that it should only be possible to accomplish within the limits of my definition. that's cinema, baby! nottting hill, while you were sleeping and hustlers for christmastime get-togethers that feel, in different ways, off-kilter. coherence and the invitation for reminders that dinner parties are how all horror stories begin. annette bening singing joni mitchell in an absolutely excruciating scene in the kids are all right. also, and i will not apologise for this in the slightest, the bit in the second shrek movie where everyone's yelling each other's names and donkey yells 'donkey!'
yes but no: is the scene in normal people a lunch? emma has a picnic that has the exact vibe of a dinner party, and the same goes for the exemplary vegetable meal in pride & prejudice (2005). the fleabag season 2 opener is in a restaurant but it is absolutely perfect. ditto the 'i say a little prayer' scene in my best friend's wedding, which is also possibly a lunch. such a fun age knows that the millennial dinner party is a brunch. i mean, technically, macbeth? they don't eat enough in rebecca. the beetlejuice scene to me does not have enough anxiety/conflict connected to the actual dinner, but is obviously iconic. the scene in elena ferrante's the lying life of adults in which the protagonist watches under the table to see the wrong people playing footsie is just a dinner and not a party, but it's an incredible moment. and, i mean, i guess hannibal?
i'd love for you to respond with your own answers/recommendations—or even tropes you'd like me to consider for future roundups!
love,
t
today i present you with a collection of my favourite examples of my favourite trope: the dinner party scene in fiction. to me a good dinner party scene ideally includes a group of people, some of whom are strangers to each other, at a physical table, a sense of being trapped, and an undercurrent of unease or anxiety. the perfect dinner party scene makes me feel like getting my phone out to search for an uber, and i would like to read approximately seventeen thousand versions of this trope done over and over again for the rest of my life, thank you very much.
god-tier: real life by brandon taylor, with a scene that made me want to excuse myself from a dining table and try not to throw up in a stranger's bathroom. the power of literature! hex by rebecca dinerstein knight, for similar vibes as well as the time-has-no-meaning unendingness of a party that goes on and on and becomes different versions of itself, all while you're getting more and more entangled in the mess that you, the dinner partygoers, have created together. in a similar vein, i capture the castle, which includes an absolutely exquisite scene in which the protagonist goes to the bathroom just to admire rich people's towels. tamsyn muir's ninth house books for one apiece: gideon the ninth for a more traditional one and harrow the ninth for possibly the most batshit scene i have ever read. conversations with friends, of course. any georgette heyer murder mystery, at some point, and always with delicious bite. mrs dalloway said she would buy the flowers herself.
on film: the platonic ideal is, of course, you've got mail. that caviar is a garnish! as well, consider: phantom thread, which does not fit my definition in the least but which accomplishes, tonally, something that it should only be possible to accomplish within the limits of my definition. that's cinema, baby! nottting hill, while you were sleeping and hustlers for christmastime get-togethers that feel, in different ways, off-kilter. coherence and the invitation for reminders that dinner parties are how all horror stories begin. annette bening singing joni mitchell in an absolutely excruciating scene in the kids are all right. also, and i will not apologise for this in the slightest, the bit in the second shrek movie where everyone's yelling each other's names and donkey yells 'donkey!'
yes but no: is the scene in normal people a lunch? emma has a picnic that has the exact vibe of a dinner party, and the same goes for the exemplary vegetable meal in pride & prejudice (2005). the fleabag season 2 opener is in a restaurant but it is absolutely perfect. ditto the 'i say a little prayer' scene in my best friend's wedding, which is also possibly a lunch. such a fun age knows that the millennial dinner party is a brunch. i mean, technically, macbeth? they don't eat enough in rebecca. the beetlejuice scene to me does not have enough anxiety/conflict connected to the actual dinner, but is obviously iconic. the scene in elena ferrante's the lying life of adults in which the protagonist watches under the table to see the wrong people playing footsie is just a dinner and not a party, but it's an incredible moment. and, i mean, i guess hannibal?
i'd love for you to respond with your own answers/recommendations—or even tropes you'd like me to consider for future roundups!
love,
t
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