Bob Giraldi hasn't directed a film since 1987's Hiding Out with Jon Cryer, but his 14-year absence from the feature-film game must have honed his talent and style (maybe Tim Burton should take a decade or two off, too). Seen largely as "only" a director of television commercials (he's won four Clio Awards) and music videos (like Michael Jackson's "Beat It"), Giraldi has made one of this year's niftiest self-financed pictures with Dinner Rush.

For the most part, Rush takes place over one evening in Gigino Trattoria, an upscale Tribeca eatery frequented by the cream of Manhattan's crop. The masses, it seems, are attracted to Gigino because of head chef Udo Cropa's (Edoardo Ballerini, Romeo Must Die) exotic dishes. In fact, the place has become so successful, Udo's pop, Louis (Danny Aiello, The Last Don), who is Gigino's owner, no longer runs numbers out of the restaurant to bolster his profits.

With a huge reservation list and a son who is quickly becoming one of the city's most popular chefs, you'd think Louis would be on Cloud 9, but he's got more issues than Tony Soprano. For starters, his business partner was just gunned down by two Queens mobsters known as Black and Blue (Alex Corrado and The Bone Collector's Mike McGlone), who now want a piece of Louis' business.  Udo wants to take over Gigino because his unique culinary skills have made the place a hit, but Louis won't even eat anything his son makes, preferring sausage and peppers prepared by a cook named Duncan (Kirk Acevedo, Oz).

Like nearly everyone else in Rush, Duncan has his share of problems, too. He's neck-deep in debt to his bookie after taking a bath on a St. John's basketball game, and his growing attraction to Gigino's attractive hostess (Vivian Wu, 8 1/2 Women) could cause trouble because she's Udo's girlfriend. Imagine the animosity in the restaurant's basement kitchen, with Udo being forced to compete with Duncan for both his woman and his father's affection.

That's the background, which is nicely fleshed out by the debut script from Brian S. Kalata and Rick Shaughnessy, but there's more trouble in store for Louis on the evening in which most of the film's action takes place. As usual, Gigino is packed full of hungry customers, including Black and Blue, who may or may not be there to rub Louis out. An important food critic (Sandra Bernhard) must be kept happy, while a smarmy gallery owner (Mark Margolis, Hannibal) harasses a waitress who dreams of one day becoming an artist herself (Summer Phoenix, S.L.C. Punk!).

Meanwhile, Gigino's drink-slinger (Jamie Harris, Fast Food Fast Women) amazes everyone at the bar (including a Wall Street trader played by Sex and the City's John Corbett). Oh, and there's also a power outage (warmly lensed by first-timer Tim Ives) plus a finale that wouldn't seem out of place in a John Woo film. The intermingling of Gigino's customers, cooks and wait staff is impeccably written and very nicely edited by Allyson C. Johnson, an assistant on Spike Lee's He Got Game and Summer of Sam.

It'd be easy to sum up Rush's story by saying it's Big Night meets The Sopranos (with a little Oz on the side because of Acevedo and Margolis), but it's more a story about different worlds clashing with each other: Louis' traditional Italian ideas toward food colliding with Udo's new-school cuisine, the old neighborhood restaurant being replaced by a hipper, trendier crowd. Even the basement kitchen makes for interesting symbolism – it's like the Titanic, with the sweaty blue-collar folks in the lowest level, and social rank rising as you ascend.

Rush's Gigino is modeled after Giraldi's own eatery (he owns several) and its namesake, acclaimed chef Jean-Georges Vongerichten. You can tell the film is a labor of love, just like Big Night, and it stands a chance at making you nearly as hungry, even though its story isn't quite as based in food and its preparation. If this isn't a ringing endorsement, I don't know what is: At the Sarasota Film Festival (which Rush opened), Aiello said he had seen the film eight times and stayed to watch it again, even though he usually only sees his pictures once.

1:38 –

for language, some violence and sexuality