Alonso Ruizpalacios’ La Cocina, is an equally hectic and heartbreaking story captured through a stunning black and white lens.
★★☆☆☆
Adapted from Arnold Wesker’s 1957 play The Kitchen, La Cocina follows one day in the lives of cooks and waitresses working at a Times Square tourist trap. Pedro (Raul Briones) and Julia (Rooney Mara) are at the centre of the chaos as the kitchen implodes, emotions get high, and relationships are broken before they start. Ruizpalacios’ refresh of Wesker’s play is undeniably hooking but doesn’t quite manage to hit the emotional notes with the same punch as his technical abilities.
Pedro, a cook hoping to get his visa, and waitress Julia tussle back and forth about her decision to abort their child as the kitchen becomes a warzone around them. Each character’s interpersonal dramas and unfulfilled dreams result in an almost endless conflict, and when 800 dollars is missing from the till, things go even more downhill.
Amid the recent trend of restaurant-set dramas such as The Bear and Boiling Point, Ruizpalacios offers a new type of cooking anxiety: one triggered by the disappointment of the American dream. The majority of the kitchen staff are immigrants, desperate for success and angry but laughing or fighting through the struggle. Their stress peaks in a shocking seven-minute one-take, zooming between rooms as people scream, shout and flood the kitchen. Technically speaking, the cinematography, blocking and performances here are impressive and entertaining, but Ruizpalacios’ cinematic ambition overrides the characters’ anger and frustration. The prioritisation of the precision of the shot over the emotional potency of the characters hurts not only this scene but the entire narrative. What could have been a chance to explore the distrust of the American dream is subdued and turns cartoonish as the story progresses.
The stress of these character’s lives is claustrophobic, only letting up for a few scenes. However, Ruizpalacios’ extreme restlessness creates more of a disconnect from their lives than seemingly intended. La Cocina’s disconnection from its own commentary is not helped by the Briones’ ridiculous performance, which reaches its silliest peak with him sat on the floor, head covered in spaghetti. It’s difficult to discern whether the audience should find these adult tantrums humourous, pitiful, or both. Mara does what she needs to do as Julia, a woman dealing with the pressures of motherhood; however, her calmer performance appears out of place amongst the chaotic group.
The main element of La Cocina worthy of its wide praise is Juan Pablo Ramirez’s cinematography. His magnificent one-take mentioned earlier should be impossible, and the visual style, switching from black and white to colour, is indulgent in the best way. Despite narrative concerns, La Cocina was made to be watched and adored on the biggest screen possible. The wider cast of relatively unknown actors all hold their own in a technically stellar but extravagant film, creating an altogether engaging ensemble.
The Verdict
La Cocina is undoubtedly an exciting ride, littered with unexpected turns and with the pleasant addition of beautiful cinematography. However, the surface-level portrayal of the immigrant experience does a disservice to the subject matter and leaves much to be desired. Instead of zooming in on why these characters are as frustrated as they are, the film is more of a playground for extravagant cinematic techniques. What could have been a dissemination of the American Dream’s impact becomes a somewhat trite attempt at the kitchen drama.
Words by Isaac Arif
La Cocina is in UK cinemas from 28 March
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