Here it all begins: We know the date of Benjamin Baroche’s (Emmanuel Teyssier) return!
It’s a real bolt from the blue in the world of Here It All Begins . The film opens with the Auguste Armand Institute on the verge of implosion. Since Emmanuel Teyssier’s departure, tensions have been mounting. Between heightened rivalries, ego battles, and betrayals hidden beneath layers of culinary elegance, the ship seems ready to capsize. But just when all seems lost, a familiar figure is about to make his grand return. And this time, nothing will ever be the same again.
The first sequence opens with a wide shot of the Institute, bathed in cold light. Time seems to stand still, the deserted kitchens exude nostalgia. A deep, measured voiceover evokes the memory of a departed chef: “He built everything, destroyed everything, then left everything… but a genius never stays far from his work.” The audience then understands that Teyssier’s return is no longer a mere rumor: it is imminent.
Meanwhile, life at the Institute continues as usual… or so it seems. Clotilde , Antoine , and Marc Leroy try as best they can to maintain balance. But without Teyssier, authority wavers. The students argue, the teams fall apart. Anaïs , despite being brilliant, gradually loses confidence; Jude and Lionel openly disagree on the direction of the Institute’s new menu. In the corridors, whispers spread: “What if Teyssier came back?” Some fear his shadow, others fervently hope for it.
In this organized chaos, an unexpected event turns everything upside down: a mysterious letter, addressed to the “teaching team,” arrives one morning. The handwriting, unmistakable among thousands, freezes the blood of those who read it. A few incisive words, signed with a simple “AND” — “I’ll be back soon. Get ready.” The tension rises a notch. The film then shifts into a psychological thriller atmosphere. Everyone tries to interpret the message, to guess its scope. Is it a promise, a threat, a warning?
As the days pass, the signs multiply. An old kitchen knife engraved with Teyssier’s initials is found in the storeroom. An order of 72% dark chocolate—his culinary signature—is mysteriously delivered. A painting dedicated to his name reappears in the director’s office. Like a ghost haunting the places he shaped, Emmanuel Teyssier seems already present even before he has returned.
The film skillfully plays on anticipation. The students debate, the teachers doubt. Charlène , his daughter, remains silent. She knows more than she says. For several days, she has been receiving cryptic messages, incomplete sentences, like fragments of her father’s thoughts: “Don’t let the line fail…” , “The fire must start again.” These messages become the common thread of the story, between mystery and emotion.
Then comes the key moment: the Institute’s annual gala . Everyone is on edge. Guests arrive, cameras roll, journalists grow impatient. Clotilde delivers a solemn speech, thanking the students for their dedication, highlighting Teyssier’s legacy with a touch of nostalgia. The music begins, the spotlights come on… And suddenly, in total silence, the doors to the great hall open.
A man enters, wearing a dark chef’s jacket, his gaze burning with confidence. The shot is cinematic, almost mythical. The students turn around, some widening their eyes, others recoiling, torn between admiration and fear. Emmanuel Teyssier is back. His deep voice echoes: “Did you think you could turn the page without me? Bad news: I’ve come back to rewrite it.”
The film then changes pace. The tone becomes more edgy, more cutting. Teyssier takes the reins with his legendary authority. He puts back in place those who have become comfortable, imposes new challenges, and revives dormant ambitions. Under his leadership, the kitchens come back to life, and rigor becomes the rule once again. But behind this triumphant return, a mystery persists: why did he really come back?
A flashback reveals the truth: Teyssier, after leaving the Institute, went through a period of doubt. Isolated and ill, he understood that he could not exist without his passion, without his art, without this institution he had shaped. A decisive encounter with a former rival, in a Michelin-starred restaurant in Geneva, convinced him to return—not to lead, but to repair.
However, not everything is that simple. Some view this return with suspicion. Clotilde, in particular, fears that her newly acquired authority will crumble. Antoine, however, understands that this return could mean a total upheaval. The film then becomes a clash of ideals: tradition versus modernity, rigor versus kindness, passion versus balance.
The scenes follow one another: brilliant moments, monumental outbursts of anger, but also moments of pure grace. Teyssier resumes his role as mentor with a newfound intensity. He pushes his students to surpass themselves, confronts them with their limits. In one particularly powerful scene, he tells Anaïs: “A chef is not someone who succeeds with a recipe, he’s someone who transforms their pain into creation.”
But, as always with him, nothing is ever simple. Behind his return lies a secret promise: to leave a legacy before fading away for good. The film then distills an unexpected emotion: that of a man at the twilight of his reign, aware that every moment counts.
The final part of the film offers us a masterful finale. In a final competition, Teyssier symbolically faces off against his own students. His dish, disarmingly simple, is a tribute to everything he has taught: rigor, creativity, and above all, a love of taste. As he sets down his plate, he murmurs: “The return is just the beginning of the end.”
The credits open with a powerful image: Teyssier leaving the kitchen, his shadow lengthening over the burning stoves, symbolizing a flame he has rekindled. The viewer, overwhelmed, understands that his return is not just a plot twist, but an artistic, almost mythical rebirth.
This film spoiler, more than a comeback announcement, becomes a declaration of love for passion, rigor, and transmission. Emmanuel Teyssier, aka Benjamin Baroche, is not back to reign, but to remind everyone that in cooking, as in life, talent never dies—it reinvents itself.
