Trattoria loses its way on the journey from Rome
IT’S fair to say the rustic trattoria has always represented a true taste of Rome.
Over the centuries, Romans have guarded their cucina romana — the tradition of eating in Rome — as one of their cultural identifiers, just like the city’s relics, piazzas and churches. And, in Shanghai, Palatino Roman Cuisine is a restaurant that indicates it is devoted to upholding that tradition. Unfortunately, the trattoria appears to have lost its way on the journey from Rome.
The poorly decorated first level, composed of a pizza oven and old furnishings, wasn’t pleasant in the dimly-lit trattoria.
Most people were dining on the second floor, where several tables are organized to accommodate two to four people. The space is better taken care of compared to its entrance; however, ambience does not seem to be a priority here.
Roman food is relatively down to earth, despite the city’s status as a cultural capital. Roman cooking has few elements and, in general, all of them are simply done, without frills.
The menu is filled with some of Italy’s most famous plates, such as beef carpaccio, Italian cold cuts, burrata cheese and lasagna alla Bolognese. But I was disappointed to discover that most Roman staples were not featured here, such as bucatini all’amatriciana and spaghetti cacao e pepe.
Milky burrata cheese is commonly used in several dishes at Palatino.
I picked a classic appetizer to start the meal — beef carpaccio, served with capers, cherry tomatoes and basil. It’s a traditional Italian appetizer that involves minimal cooking and makes an elegant starter favored by many. The thinly sliced beef used here was of the highest quality.
Pastas, pizza and mains are next on the menu for diners. But their only homemade pasta dish, fettucine, was sold out. It was replaced by an imported linguini, served with Italian porcini mushroom, burrata cheese and black truffle. The dish was priced at 158 yuan and not worth it.
My pizza, although made from scratch, from the kitchen to the oven, it didn’t
meet my expectation. The crust was too light, the overall texture was dry and the toppings lacked any flavor.
A true Roman eatery lies in its convivial atmosphere where happy moments are spent over food, wine and laughter. Unfortunately, Palatino doesn’t subscribe to such a cheerful vibe.
AN air of mystery surrounded Rosamund Pike in “Gone Girl” but there’s no mistaking her in “I Care a Lot.” Sporting designer suits and a bob cut so sharp that you tremble for her stylist, Pike’s Marla Grayson is imperious from head to toe.
The title of J Blakeson’s sleekly sinister neo-noir is tongue and cheek. Marla, a shark on par with Gordon Gekko or Jaws, doesn’t care even a little. She’s a legal guardian to dozens of elderly people whom she bilks for everything they’re worth. “Playing fair is a joke invented by rich people to keep the rest of us poor,” she says in the movie’s opening.
When so much real terror is stalking nursing homes, the timing of “I Care a Lot” is perhaps not ideal. Marla’s scheme is a loathsome one and the feeling of disgust only grows as writer-director Blakeson depicts an interwoven system of elder abuse, with doctors and nursing home mangers all taking a cut. One of them hands Marla a “cherry” — an especially desirable new ward because she’s both wealthy and lacking any apparent living family that might interfere — in Jennifer (Dianne Wiest). A few falsified health records and a judge’s rubber stamp later, Jennifer is abruptly hauled off to a facility where her phone is taken and Marla and her partner-girlfriend (Eiza González) quickly start auctioning off her stuff.
Having Dianne Wiest locked up is no less infuriating than Jack Nicholson being strapped into a mental hospital. But the twists and turns of “I Care a Lot” lead elsewhere — in more comic, off-balanced but deviously delightful directions.
Jennifer turns out to be not just a meek old lady living alone but the mother of a powerful and well-financed underworld figure with ties to the Russian mafia Roman Lunyov (Peter
Dinklage). Dinklage immediately recalibrates the movie, as Roman summons his forces while he snacks on an eclair or sips a smoothie — to free his mother. It also rebalances our allegiance.
Blakeson’s film is gleefully amoral, less concerned with judging its obviously heinous characters than crafting a
satire of American capitalism as a system where human trafficking is a mode of business.
“I Care a Lot” has ultimately no way of resolving its fairly ludicrous plot. But it’s strong, gripping, unpredictable pulp, and Pike pulls something off that few else could as a protagonist. She’s quite detestable and completely compelling.