"Babette's Feast" and "The Horse's Mouth" are the two most insightful, accurate films on what it is to be a real artist. The key lines in "Babette's Feast" are not, as some other commentators here have said, "an artist is never poor," but two lines that come before and after it:

"I was able to make them happy when I gave of my very best. ... Throughout the world sounds one long cry from the heart of the artist: give me the chance to do my very best." 

I spent nine years producing experimental multi-media music theater in San Francisco, raising money for productions that involved dozens of singers, actors, designers, etc., and the artists I supported stretched every penny in their effort to do their very best. They were just like Babette: they were desperate to get every dollar necessary to do their very best work. Babette's art is fine French cooking, and for her to perform her art at its very best costs 10,000 francs. When, after years in political exile from France, isolated with two caring spinsters on a bleak Scandinavian coast, she suddenly gets a windfall of 10,000 francs, she does what every real artist would do: she sees that she unexpectedly has the chance to do her very best, and so she does it. She spends all the money so that she can do her very best work as an artist. The twist in the movie is that we don't know she is such an artist, until she is actually cooking and serving the meal. Up until then, she appears to be just a working-class French lady who haggles a bit with the tradesmen, and is very serious (her husband and son were murdered in Paris violence in 1871). 

To such an artist, it is secondary whether there is an audience for the art that is competent to appreciate it. That is why the author set this dinner in a community of people who could not possibly have any understanding of what they are receiving. Babette did not cook this meal as a gift to the two spinsters, or to the religious community. It was not her goal to achieve a reconciliation or spirit of good feelings among the members of the little religious sect. Indeed, she never once leaves the kitchen to speak to any of them. After the meal, she is sitting alone, sipping some wine, not paying the slightest attention to how the guests reacted. She is basking in the satisfaction of finally having the chance to have done her best as an artist. 

That is why it is so satisfying, and so important to the story, that the General unexpectedly shows up -- for, as Babette knows instantly, a general will know what she has placed before him, and will appreciate it. For there is a sort of tragedy in a great work of art being shown to an audience that lacks even one person competent to appreciate it. She is glad, very glad, he came, in fact he is the only guest she ever mentions during the entire dinner, the only one she singles out for special treatment -- not either of the spinsters. But she did not plan the meal knowing that such a person would come to receive it. 

To anyone who has had the chance to enjoy a real first-class Parisian dinner, as I have (my father was Naval Attache to Paris in the 1980s, and I had my honeymoon in France), this dinner, and Babette's satisfaction in making it, and the pleasure it brings to the diners, is absolutely convincing. If any art has the power to suffuse the recipient with a sense of joy, it is a fine French meal cooked and served in France. This movie makes a claim about the transformative effects of great art on the recipients. Before the dinner, the members of the little religious sect are quarrelsome, dredging up old resentments. The old hymns fail to restore good fellowship; people ignore them, talk over them. But the shared experience of sensual great art -- for the people can enjoy the tastes of the foods and wines even if they have no conception that they are experiencing great art -- contents the people, puts them in a forgiving mood, reconciles them, and by making them happy, encourages them to love each other, and thus has a god-like sacred effect of bringing peace. This is the claim found in the modern art movement today -- that art can supplant the traditional religions in making mankind more peaceful. Thus, contrary to those commentators here who say that this film speaks for the power of Christian belief, it is more accurate to say that the film claims that art can heal wounds that Christian ritual cannot. After all my years in the art world, I have to say that this claim -- that art brings peace that religion cannot -- is overblown and invalid. But it is a pretty conceit and it is the second main theme of this beautiful film.

One last note: at Babette's arrival at the spinsters' home, a particular French general, Galliffet, is named as the person who in 1871 executed Babette's husband and son, and imposed a military rule that she had to flee. At the end of the film, as the General tells the story of the magnificent meal he enjoyed in Paris many years before (before 1871), at the conclusion of some military maneuvers, it turns out that this same Galliffet was his host at the meal. As the General tells the story, French general Galliffet praised the chef of that meal as the greatest woman, the only woman he would risk his life for. Of course, that woman was Babette. Thus, ironically, the same French general who said he honored Babette above all other women was responsible for driving her away from France forever.
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