What’s the key ingre­di­ent at this year’s Oscars? Eggs, of course

A bet to eat 50 hard-boiled, ris­ing before the sun to down five raw and a car­ton that begins to self-cook when a demigod has tak­en up res­i­dence in the refrig­er­a­tor. All icon­ic movie scenes fea­tur­ing that most ver­sa­tile of ingre­di­ents, the hum­ble egg. No, this isn’t an ear­ly East­er-themed post cel­e­brat­ing the most egg-cel­lent moments on screen, but a look at how more than half of this year’s Best Pic­ture Oscar nom­i­nees utilise eggs to fur­ther the sto­ry, define char­ac­ter moti­va­tion or expand rela­tion­ship dynamics.

Food on film can be sen­su­al, and eggs are often a sym­bol of new life. The eggs used in these movies range from a brief moment that encap­su­late every­thing you need to know about a char­ac­ter to play­ing a larg­er role in the plot.

A com­plex moth­er-daugh­ter rela­tion­ship is at the heart of Lady Bird. The mer­cu­r­ial nature is appar­ent from the off when a con­ver­sa­tion quick­ly esca­lates from a sim­ple dis­agree­ment to jump­ing out of a mov­ing vehi­cle. Under­scor­ing this com­bat­ive behav­iour over break­fast in anoth­er ear­ly scene, as Mar­i­on (Lau­rie Met­calf) insists on mak­ing her daughter’s scram­bled eggs because Lady Bird (Saoirse Ronan) takes too long. Plus, Mar­i­on will be the one to clean up the inevitable big mess.

Flip­ping between pas­sive-aggres­sive com­ments and all out yelling is part of their bad com­mu­ni­ca­tion style. Lady Bird’s com­plaint about her under­cooked break­fast leads to a shout­ing match; Marion’s ​“Fine make your own fuck­ing eggs!” is met with Lady Bird point­ing out she want­ed to ​“but you won’t let me.” This is about more than just break­fast; these eggs are short­hand no mat­ter how well they are cooked.

A peach is the food star of Call Me by Your Name, but a soft-boiled egg tells us every­thing we need to know about Oliv­er (Armie Ham­mer). Elio (Tim­o­th­ée Cha­la­met) has no trou­ble cut­ting the top off his, Oliv­er bash­es his in. Oliv­er is a bound­ing Gold­en Retriev­er in human form. He’s overea­ger and hand­some; his egg inep­ti­tude is charm­ing in its clumsiness.

Elio knows books, music and how to eat his egg prop­er­ly, but as he lat­er points out, ​“If you only knew how lit­tle I know about the things that mat­ter.” Oliv­er knows his own lim­its which is intim­i­dat­ing for Elio. When Oliv­er is offered a third egg after rap­tur­ous­ly eat­ing his sec­ond attempt, he polite­ly turns it down say­ing, ​“I know myself. If I have a sec­ond, I’m gonna have a third, and then a fourth.” Oliv­er can dis­miss his desire for more eggs, but the all con­sum­ing lust that takes hold in Call Me by Your Name is not so easy to ignore. Oliv­er knows him­self and yet he can’t deny the pull he feels toward Elio, no mat­ter how much he backs away or pre­tends it isn’t happening.

Sex and sus­te­nance go hand-in-hand in The Shape of Water. Elisa’s (Sal­ly Hawkins) dai­ly pre-work rou­tine is egg-timer set mul­ti­task­ing; boil­ing eggs as she mas­tur­bates in the bath. If Corn Flakes were invent­ed as a cure for mas­tur­ba­tion – as Giles (Richard Jenk­ins) points out – then eggs are the ulti­mate aphro­disi­ac in this world. A lot of peo­ple meet their future sig­nif­i­cant oth­er in the work­place, the meet cute in The Shape of Water is an uncon­ven­tion­al ver­sion of this nar­ra­tive trope. Food breaks the ice (or rather water) that turns into music, danc­ing and more. Slow­ly peel­ing the shell is a chaste form of fore­play. It is lucky the Amphib­ian Man (Doug Jones) needs a pro­tein heavy diet.

Food in Phan­tom Thread is wield­ed by Reynolds Wood­cock (Daniel Day-Lewis) as a tool to assert dom­i­nance; go easy on the but­ter, a poached egg that isn’t too run­ny and meals free from dis­trac­tion and con­fronta­tion. The break­fast table pro­vides the set­ting for most of these dis­agree­ments, whether com­plain­ing about the stodgi­ness of pas­tries or the vol­ume of but­ter­ing toast. When Reynolds first meets Alma (Vicky Krieps) she is a wait­ress, she writes down his long break­fast order, but he wants her to dic­tate it to the chef from memory.

Hunger and desire are intrin­si­cal­ly linked in Phan­tom Thread. Pow­er dynam­ics shift when Alma uses poi­so­nous mush­rooms to redesign the Reynolds rela­tion­ship pat­tern, switch­ing the submissive/​dominant posi­tions. First a pot of tea, then an omelette as the per­fect ves­sel for Alma’s plan to ensure Reynolds will always need her. Alma is the one giv­ing life by tak­ing on the care­giv­er role he secret­ly craves, but she is also the one putting him in this del­i­cate position.

Unlike the Edwina Cur­rie scan­dal from the late 1980s, Reynolds Wood­cock is not put off eat­ing eggs by his time spent hug­ging the toi­let. Rather he indulges in this rit­u­al. After all, he is a hun­gry boy. Alma breaks the mould by push­ing back against Reynolds and his demands; she refus­es to com­ply with his every whim. By doing so his destruc­tive pat­tern with women turns into a dif­fer­ent game; one that Alma controls.

Not all eggs are vital to the plot or as a way to under­score char­ac­ter moti­va­tion. Some­times an egg is just an egg. In the case of Dark­est Hour, the break­fast tray looks pret­ty stan­dard for the time, espe­cial­ly as this was before egg rations and the soon-to-be loathed pow­dered egg replace­ment. But for Win­ston Churchill (Gary Old­man) it is his morn­ing drink of choice rather than his food that is in focus. For most a tea, cof­fee or orange juice will suf­fice, but Win­ston requires a scotch and soda to go with his fried eggs and bacon. This liq­uid diet doesn’t instil con­fi­dence in Churchill’s lead­er­ship hopes.

In the 1950s, Tony Han­cock starred in the ​‘Go to Work on an Egg’ adver­tis­ing cam­paign to high­light the ben­e­fits of this once again wide­ly avail­able prod­uct. And now the 2018 Best Pic­ture nom­i­nees are doing a good job of mak­ing most eggs seem appeal­ing and con­ve­nient. Whether you’re bask­ing in the Ital­ian sun­shine or inter­act­ing with a fan­tas­ti­cal crea­ture. And with­out a bet, demigod or train­ing regime in sight. Just make sure you cook your eggs thor­ough­ly to avoid kitchen argu­ments and avoid poi­so­nous mush­rooms. Unless you’re into that sort of thing.