Adam Jones — Bradley Cooper’s character in the movie “Burnt” — has other ideas for food than just satisfying someone’s hunger.

“I don’t want to make food that people just eat,” said Jones, his blue eyes glistening with the reflections of expensive kitchenware all around him. “I want to give people culinary orgasms.”

If you think all master chefs are stuffy Frenchmen, then Jones would knock your dang socks off before you could say, “sous-vide.” This handsome rogue wears a leather jacket, gets around on a sweet motorcycle (without a helmet because he’s no square) and recruits his kitchen employees from prison.

Jones used to live off the devil’s nectar and extreme amounts of blow, but he’s been clean for more than two years. Also, because he’s an extra cool dude, he swore off that insidious vice known as “women” when he went sober.

Between all that and the extreme workplace abuse he puts his kitchen underlings through, there’s just no denying Jones is a rockin,’ hard-drivin’ son of a b****.

All right, yeah, I can’t keep up this bit anymore. Jones couldn’t be a less likable protagonist if he tried.

The “charismatic jerk” archetype is certainly tried and true, but it only works if you remember to add the charisma. This film asks the audience to sympathize with a guy who would most certainly be at the receiving end of a few lawsuits in any country with reasonable labor laws.

I should probably address the narrative, huh? Jones is a world-famous chef who fell out of grace and now he’s back, opening one of those restaurants where rich people pay twice your monthly rent for a small plate containing things you’ve never heard of.

Jones is such a nice fella that he conspires to have a poor, single mother fired from her old gig just so she can come work for him, all without ever consulting her about it. They fall in love, of course, because that’s how bad movies work.

“Burnt” feels like the end result of someone taking a sick day and feverishly watching a marathon of Gordon Ramsay’s show in bed. The problem is that plots that work in bursts of reality television don’t necessarily work in a scripted, human drama.

I’d address the other aspects of the film, except there aren’t any. It’s a hair less than two hours of Bradley Cooper being angry about food, punctuated by quickly cut cooking montages.

Maybe it’s slightly commendable that “Burnt” has such a singular focus.

Jones is slightly humanized in the final third of the story, but this ends up being spectacularly boring and full of clichés. Wow, it turns out the bitter dude is good with kids! Who knew?

At times, “Burnt” tries to fool you into thinking it’s competent (those cooking montages are pretty decent), but there’s nothing redeemable to be found here. If you want feel-good culinary cinema, you can’t go wrong with last year’s “The Hundred-Foot Journey.”