I watched the documentary Kings of Pastry this morning because I love to bake and watching a bunch of hoity-toity French pastry chefs compete in an elite baking competition seemed like a fun thing to do. Well, it wasn’t. This may be a more brutal and emotionally grueling film than any of the current Oscar contenders, yes, even than Rust and Bone. (Plus it could have done with better picture quality.) Oh, it’s all fun and games when they’re focusing on the scene after scene of exquisite creampuffs and tartlets, but when Phillippe broke his sugar sculpture I almost wept. Real tears gathered in my eyes. I, who didn’t choke up even once during Les Mis!