Yet after multiple viewings of the documentary, which is streaming on Discovery Plus, I believe the filmmakers are using DeVirgilis’ allegations to tell a much larger story about society nearly five years after Batali was first accused of sexual misconduct in 2017. They argue that America’s legal, law enforcement and workplace systems still largely favor the powerful, despite what the #MeToo movement is thought to have promised women who for generations felt there were few rewards for standing up to violent men.
The evidence, the film suggests, walks among us: Batali remains a free man even after multiple sexual assault charges, including one in Boston, which marked the first time a leader has been arraigned in criminal court to face an accuser.
“The #MeToo movement has largely left the criminal justice system intact,” Jane Manning, director of the Women’s Equal Justice Project, told the filmmakers. “At every step of the process, we often see a system that is stacked against the victim.”
Many of the same women who first stood up to Batali, as well as Ken Friedman, owner of the now closed Spotted Pig, make an appearance in the documentary. Their stories haven’t changed, but the medium gives them a chance to be seen, literally and emotionally. The things they would have endured and the things they would have witnessed can still trigger an emotional reaction, which director Singeli Agnew captures in sometimes heartbreaking and/or enraged interviews.
Trish Nelson, longtime waitress at Spotted Pig, recounts the day Amy Poehler, the comedian and actress, visited the West Village restaurant known for attracting celebrities of all stripes. Nelson was on all fours, gathering glassware, when Friedman allegedly pushed his face into his crotch, all as Poehler watched. The same story appeared in a New York Times article in 2017, but this time Nelson brings something more: the emotional weight of this alleged incident.
What Friedman was communicating, Nelson says, was his power over the underlings: “It’s who you are. Which is [Poehler] is. You are no longer the same, and I control you,” Nelson says, interpreting Friedman’s actions. She begins to cry at the memory.
A recurring theme is the trail of alleged victims in Batali’s wake, both men and women. Among them is Arturo Sighinolfi, owner of Rocco, an old-fashioned red sauce restaurant in Manhattan, which Batali allegedly used to build his reputation, no matter what the cost to the owner. Or Jamie Seet, a former general manager of the Spotted Pig, who claims she saw Batali, via a camera in the third-floor party hall, assault a woman who appeared to be unconscious. Seet feels guilty for not protesting further, even though she says she complained to Friedman and Chief April Bloomfield.
“I am totally ashamed of not having set foot on the ground. I didn’t call the cops,” Seet said. The implication is clear: those who did not try to stop the alleged abuse simply perpetuated it.
Some apparent patterns are also highlighted: Batali’s alleged penchant for groping women who just wanted to take a picture with him. Or women who claim Batali sexually assaulted them while they were unconscious, an alleged routine that suggests the alleged victims may have been drugged, like the women in the claims against Bill Cosby.
What Agnew does best, however, is build a case, allegation by allegation, like a competent prosecutor. The Spotted Pig employees who let things go because they feared Friedman’s power and temper (this group apparently included Bloomfield). Criminal charges that could not be brought against Batali because overworked (and possibly undertrained) detectives could not find enough evidence. A settlement that collapsed when Friedman suddenly closed the Spotted Pig, depriving 11 former employees of a share of the restaurant’s profits. A Boston judge who granted access to an accuser’s personal communications, which gave Batali’s attorneys ample material to paint Natali Tene as a liar and possible gold digger. (Batali was found not guilty at trial.)
The lesson, Manning says in the film, is that any woman who faces off against a powerful man must prepare for all-out war, even five years after the #MeToo movement began.
The documentary ends with the usual disclaimers – that Friedman, Batali and Bloomfield would not comment or participate in the production – but it also ends with one sentence: “As of August 2022, Mario Batali faces no further criminal charges. .”
After everything that happened in the previous hour and 15 minutes, the filmmakers seem to be arguing that Batali, despite losing his reputation and his empire, hasn’t faced the true consequences of his alleged actions. Countless women, it seems to imply, feel trapped in their shame, guilt or anger, while Mario Batali remains free.
