By Adam Rabiner
A review of All in this Tea originally appeared in the Linewaiters’ Gazette on January 27, 2011. This review is a lightly edited version of that original submission. Of the 64 different films that have been screened as part of the Plow to Plate series since 2009, most of them reviewed in these pages, All in this Tea is one of my favorites. So if you were not lucky enough to catch the movie when it was first shown in February 2011, make a point of catching it this September.
Many of the films featured in the Plow to Plate movie series have focused on solid food and how it’s produced. But the series is equally interested in beverages. Already it has explored the alleged malfeasance of Coca-Cola bottlers in Colombia, the negative economic and environmental externalities of bottled water, and the unfair trade of global coffee markets. Now the series turns its attention to a very quaint and lovely drink, namely tea. However, this film is neither an angry indictment nor a dire warning. It is a gentle and lyrical movie filled with beautiful Chinese string music, attractive images of tea and China, and wonderfully poetic words of love and appreciation for the film’s subject. Mostly, though, the viewer just enjoys spending time with David Lee Hoffman, an American tea importer, as the film follows his efforts to identify and procure the highest quality product. Hoffman is a nomad, Buddhist, friend of the Dalai Lama, successful businessman and pioneer of fair trade, early and strong advocate of sustainable and organic production, and all-around good guy.
…All in This Tea begins with a choreographed tea ceremony featuring dozens of identically costumed young women performing perfectly synchronized movements at an oolong com- petition in Hangzhou in 1997. The film itself takes on the ceremony’s meditative and tranquil qualities and the viewer in some ways becomes drawn in as a participant. A tea ceremony creates a vocabulary for richly experiencing tea’s subtle nuances, and, similarly, the film is engaged in an almost spiritual effort to describe the ineffable. Hoffman has highly attuned taste buds and is an expert at discovering the best quality product. Sniffing a handful of tea leaves, he might exclaim “sensational,” or nod his head in distaste and spit out the word “chemicals.” But a deeper language eludes him. At one point, speaking with German filmmaker Warner Herzog over some freshly brewed tea, Hoffman declares that there is no vocabulary that can say what the tea tastes like. Herzog counters that drinking good tea is imbibing nature: “imagine things like walking through a forest. There are leaves on the ground. It has just rained. The rain has stopped. It’s damp, and you walk...and somehow that’s all in this tea.”
The film is an elegy to tea, which is variously described as shavings on angels wings; the spirit of Cleopatra, buttery, vegetal, rich, fragrant, oceanic, seaweed, not flowery. No two teas are alike since its flavors are determined by soil, minerals, neighboring plants, water, elevation, sunlight and shade, the skill of the farmer, and hundreds of other variables. Tea embodies history and archeology – a drinker shares in the same sensual experiences as those experienced in the court of a Chinese emperor or Queen Victoria.
A deep and abiding respect for nature and efforts to restore its health is Hoffman’s deeper mission. At the time of the film’s making, traditional Chinese tea farmers were a dying breed and the Chinese government was supporting industrial tea manufacturing, chemical fertilizers and pesticides. Largely due to Hoffman’s tireless efforts, traditional, organic and sustainable tea production is on the rise in China and around the globe. The movie may very well further this trend by inspiring you to trade in your Lipton tea bags for some premium Darjeeling.
A review of All in this Tea originally appeared in the Linewaiters’ Gazette on January 27, 2011. This review is a lightly edited version of that original submission. Of the 64 different films that have been screened as part of the Plow to Plate series since 2009, most of them reviewed in these pages, All in this Tea is one of my favorites. So if you were not lucky enough to catch the movie when it was first shown in February 2011, make a point of catching it this September.
Many of the films featured in the Plow to Plate movie series have focused on solid food and how it’s produced. But the series is equally interested in beverages. Already it has explored the alleged malfeasance of Coca-Cola bottlers in Colombia, the negative economic and environmental externalities of bottled water, and the unfair trade of global coffee markets. Now the series turns its attention to a very quaint and lovely drink, namely tea. However, this film is neither an angry indictment nor a dire warning. It is a gentle and lyrical movie filled with beautiful Chinese string music, attractive images of tea and China, and wonderfully poetic words of love and appreciation for the film’s subject. Mostly, though, the viewer just enjoys spending time with David Lee Hoffman, an American tea importer, as the film follows his efforts to identify and procure the highest quality product. Hoffman is a nomad, Buddhist, friend of the Dalai Lama, successful businessman and pioneer of fair trade, early and strong advocate of sustainable and organic production, and all-around good guy.
…All in This Tea begins with a choreographed tea ceremony featuring dozens of identically costumed young women performing perfectly synchronized movements at an oolong com- petition in Hangzhou in 1997. The film itself takes on the ceremony’s meditative and tranquil qualities and the viewer in some ways becomes drawn in as a participant. A tea ceremony creates a vocabulary for richly experiencing tea’s subtle nuances, and, similarly, the film is engaged in an almost spiritual effort to describe the ineffable. Hoffman has highly attuned taste buds and is an expert at discovering the best quality product. Sniffing a handful of tea leaves, he might exclaim “sensational,” or nod his head in distaste and spit out the word “chemicals.” But a deeper language eludes him. At one point, speaking with German filmmaker Warner Herzog over some freshly brewed tea, Hoffman declares that there is no vocabulary that can say what the tea tastes like. Herzog counters that drinking good tea is imbibing nature: “imagine things like walking through a forest. There are leaves on the ground. It has just rained. The rain has stopped. It’s damp, and you walk...and somehow that’s all in this tea.”
The film is an elegy to tea, which is variously described as shavings on angels wings; the spirit of Cleopatra, buttery, vegetal, rich, fragrant, oceanic, seaweed, not flowery. No two teas are alike since its flavors are determined by soil, minerals, neighboring plants, water, elevation, sunlight and shade, the skill of the farmer, and hundreds of other variables. Tea embodies history and archeology – a drinker shares in the same sensual experiences as those experienced in the court of a Chinese emperor or Queen Victoria.
A deep and abiding respect for nature and efforts to restore its health is Hoffman’s deeper mission. At the time of the film’s making, traditional Chinese tea farmers were a dying breed and the Chinese government was supporting industrial tea manufacturing, chemical fertilizers and pesticides. Largely due to Hoffman’s tireless efforts, traditional, organic and sustainable tea production is on the rise in China and around the globe. The movie may very well further this trend by inspiring you to trade in your Lipton tea bags for some premium Darjeeling.