Anthony Bourdain’s swagger, mess, and sharp-edged humor all feed into Tony, a coming-of-age dramedy that turns an early chapter of his life into something warm, scrappy, and unexpectedly affecting. Set in 1975, the film follows a restless young writer chasing status, romance, and a shortcut to the life he thinks he deserves, only to get smacked around by reality in the best possible way.
The story centers on 19-year-old Tony, played by Dominic Sessa, who already has the attitude of someone convinced he’s a legend in the making. He thinks a prestigious fellowship is his, then blows up his own plans and heads for Cape Cod in pursuit of Nancy, a girl he cannot stop talking himself into impressing. That confidence crashes fast, and the film gets a lot of its charm from watching Tony trip over his own ego.
Emilia Jones plays Nancy, the object of Tony’s misguided crush, and the dynamic keeps things lively without turning her into a simple prize to win. Tony’s next stop is a lobster shack in Provincetown, where he falls under the command of Antonio Banderas’ Chef, a blunt, no-nonsense presence who has zero patience for attitude. The kitchen setting gives the movie its best energy, mixing hard labor, bruised pride, and a weird kind of mentorship that starts out rough and gets more meaningful as it goes.
The setup is loose, but it works because the film understands the appeal of Bourdain’s original voice. His self-aware, self-lacerating honesty is baked into the character from the start, and the script leans into that blend of arrogance and vulnerability without sanding off the rough parts. The result is less a tidy origin story and more a snapshot of a young man getting humbled in public, then slowly figuring out that humility might be the whole point.
Matt Johnson directs with a light touch that keeps the movie from getting trapped in the usual prestige biopic habits. Johnson, who also co-wrote the film, has a knack for balancing joke after joke with something more fragile underneath, and that balance serves the material well here. The film never forgets that Bourdain’s bite was part of the appeal, but it also gives space to the loneliness and uncertainty hiding behind the cool-guy surface.
Sessa carries the movie with a performance that has to do a lot at once. He makes Tony infuriating, funny, vulnerable, and oddly lovable, often in the same scene, which is exactly what the role needs. Banderas is just as strong, giving Chef a gruff authority that could have become cartoonish in lesser hands, but instead lands as one of the film’s most grounded and memorable pieces.
There’s also a real sense that the movie knows where to place its emotional punches. The jokes come fast, the clashes feel sharp, and the quieter beats have enough room to breathe, which keeps the story from turning into a string of clever bits. It helps that the supporting cast, including Leo Woodall, adds texture to Tony’s drifting summer without pulling focus from the central push and pull between immaturity and growth.
Tony is the kind of movie that sneaks up on you. It starts with a loudmouth kid who thinks he has life figured out, then turns into a surprisingly tender watch about work, pride, failure, and the strange teachers who show up when a plan falls apart. By the time Tony is scrubbing dishes and getting his ego knocked down to size, the film has already made its point without hammering it, and that restraint is part of what makes it feel so alive.
The verdict: Tony is a sharp, charming dramedy that captures the rough early shape of Anthony Bourdain without turning him into a saint. Sessa and Banderas make the whole thing pop, while Johnson keeps the tone nimble enough to let the humor and heart land side by side.
Rated R for pervasive language, drug use, and sexual content/nudity. Running time: 1 hour, 46 minutes. In theaters now.
