The Kitchen
NETFLIXThere was a very, very brief period in time in which having a movie premiere on Netflix was a bargain, a chance for up-and-coming and acclaimed filmmakers to share their latest cinematic creations with as wide an audience as possible. Alas, while there are occasional highlights like David Fincher’s The Killer or the Roald Dahl quadrilogy by Wes Anderson, most new releases on Netflix come and go – not with a bang, but a whimper. Netflix is a graveyard of cinematic dreams, where everything is disposable and dead on arrival.
It is with no pleasure that The Kitchen belongs amongst such soon-to-be-forgotten works. The directorial debut of Oscar-winner Daniel Kaluuya and his friend and filmmaker Kibwe Tavares has all the makings of a successful film: a near-dystopic London where social housing has been eliminated, except for the titular self-sufficient community that refuses to give in to the pressures of the government. The narrative anchors are the just-orphaned Benji (Jedaiah Bannerman) and Izi (rapper Kano), who may or may not be Benji’s father.
The premise, heavily reminiscent of almost every piece of science fiction set in the not-so-distant future, has promise. The socio-political critique of how the British government treats low-income citizens and ethnic minorities could lead to either a moving Ken Loach-esque commentary or an angry thriller à la Black Mirror. Instead, bafflingly, The Kitchen is neither. Better yet, The Kitchen is just nothing: a nothing film.
Where is the anger? Where is the frustration? Where is the energy? For so much time spent world-building, following Izi and young Benji is incredibly boring, yet another tale of an adult man trying to shelter a child from dangers with barely any interesting or challenging interaction. The script, co-written by Kaluuya and Joe Murtagh, takes no narrative risks, making for a dull story that sadly was full of potential. Benji has just lost his mother, but there is no real attempt at exploring his grief in a moving way. Izi works at a funeral company called Life After Life, which turns bodies into plants, giving a new body to the deceased: a clever idea, yet it never does anything more with it. The Kitchen has a DJ’s voice always ringing through the busy streets, the voice of Lord Kitchener (Ian Wright), with a role not dissimilar from Samuel L. Jackson’s Love Daddy from Do The Right Thing: he is a highlight of the film, and even then his role is underwritten and shallow, a caricature more than an attempt at recreating a real person.
The Kitchen needs the rage and exasperation of Spike Lee or the quiet restraint of Steve McQueen to fully express its tale of the underprivileged fighting against a corrupt system. It is a shame that throughout the runtime it fails to elicit any joy, sadness, thrill, or excitement from viewers. The quality of the visual effects and the richly textured environments are commendable, and even the cast does a fine job, especially considering this is the first screen role for many of the actors involved. As is often the case, the problem is with the vision, surprisingly confused and muddled for something that Kaluuya and Tavares have been gestating for over a decade. For something similar that actually does accomplish what they were going for, Ladj Ly’s police brutality thriller Les Misérables and Romain Gavras’ Athena (also streaming on Netflix) are far more memorable and worthwhile viewing experience. There is talent behind the camera, but the script needs to take more risks if Kaluuya and his writing partner want to make a difference and a lasting impression on worldwide audiences.