Stream It Or Skip It: ‘The Kitchen’ on Netflix, a Sturdy Dystopian Action-Drama Marking Daniel Kaluuya’s Directorial Debut

The Kitchen (now on Netflix) finds Daniel Kaluuya behind the camera for the first time, co-directing the sort-of-sci-fi action-drama with Kibwe Tavares, and co-writing with Joe Murtagh. The film is set in a depressingly plausible near-future London, and specifically in a project-housing development known as The Kitchen, which the authoritarian government wants to raze despite the residents’ protests. It’s a thoughtful, occasionally intense watch that merges a few different genres, with somewhat mixed results.

THE KITCHEN: STREAM IT OR SKIP IT?

The Gist: The water in the west wing is out. So says Lord Kitchener (Ian Wright), the voice of The Kitchen, a vibrant but crumbling community in the heart of London. His voice rings out to all the residents, uniting them in their joys and struggles: The long lines to use one of few working showers, the hustle and bustle in the street market. Izi (Kane Robinson, a.k.a. the musician Kano) lives here, in a dilapidated little flat, commuting to work on a motorcycle. He zooms through the street, lined with a cornucopia of people and vehicles and neon signs and floating-hologram advertisements, past a distinct line of demarcation, and into a portion of the city that’s quiet, clean and sterile, defined by its chilly brutalism. Meanwhile, a gang of Kitchen residents led by Staples (Hope Ikpoku Jnr) zooms through the city on ATVs and motorcycles, hijacking a truck and distributing the food in its hold to their fellow Kitchen residents. These people may be hungry, but at least they’re home.

Izi works in the gentrified part of town at Life After Life, a funeral-service business that recycles cremated remains into the soil of a new seedling, so your late friend or family member can forever feed a tree; he’s a salesman for various memorial packages. The ceremonies are surprisingly sterile for such a purported eco-conscious service, and that seems to be the point – there’s no soul here, but in The Kitchen, there’s life. True, real, painful, pragmatic life. And you won’t at all be shocked to learn that The Kitchen is subject to regular authoritarian raids: The residents bang on pots and pans as a warning before the cops arrive with riot gear to beat and haul away – and yes, kill – residents who aren’t quick or fortunate enough to barricade themselves in their apartments.

One morning, Izi brushes his teeth, looking into a mirror cluttered with digital notifications. One is a reminder that his application for an apartment at Buena Vida, a shiny new development outside of The Kitchen. He taps the LATER button and heads to work, where he bears witness to a lonely funeral service. His eyes tell us he knew the dead woman who’s shuttled behind a door and emerges as a tree – and possibly the boy who’s quietly saying goodbye to his mother. Benji (Jedaiah Bannerman) is maybe 13 years old. Izi takes pity and gives him a ride home, after which Benji sits in the dark until midnight so he can open the gift left by his mother. It’s a bicycle. He rides it into The Kitchen, where he runs across Staples and his crew, who offer him company and a bed and a motorcycle, and the trouble that goes with it is unspoken but implied. Izi steers Benji away from the crew with a concern that seems – well, let’s just say it threatens Izi’s status as a loner who wonders if The Kitchen is still his home, or if it’s time to give up and assimilate.

What Movies Will It Remind You Of?: The Kitchen — not to be confused with the underwhelming Melissa McCarthy/Elisabeth Moss/Tiffany Haddish crime-thriller The Kitchen — seems as inspired by the likes of Blade Runner and Children of Men as it is by revolt-in-the-projects thriller Athena and the stories of West Indies immigrants told by Steve McQueen in anthology series Small Axe.

Performance Worth Watching: In a movie that leaves us a little chilly when it comes to character depth, Benji is the most well-developed, and Bannerman gives a performance that’s naturalistic and nuanced, and the pure, innocent heart of the story.

Memorable Dialogue: Izi chats with the automated disembodied voice at Buena Vida:

Robot: Would you like to change and apply for double occupancy?

Izi: Yes.

Robot: I didn’t quite hear that.

Izi: Yes.

Robot: Would you like to change and apply for double occupancy?

Izi: YES!

Robot: No need to raise your voice.

Sex and Skin: None.

Our Take: The Truth in Advertising Dept. can have the day off: The primary character in The Kitchen is The Kitchen itself, which feels alive and pulsing as a collective unit, and our hearts break at the thought of it being destroyed by the faceless forces of capitalist progress and racist authoritarianism. Kaluuya and his collaborators show little use for exposition, choosing instead to embed contextual cues within the visuals, in an admirable show-don’t-tell fashion. They lean on that strength, contrasting the creepy, antiseptic vibe of the Life After Life facility and society on “the other side” with the grungy, lived-in, well-worn environs of The Kitchen. At night, they balconies of The Kitchen are lit with myriad colors to resemble a handmade patchwork quilt, while the rest of the city is cold concrete, glass and steel. Here, there’s spirit. Over there, sterility. Yes, it’s a cliche, but one presented in a thoughtful, artful and well-considered manner.

The film isn’t quite as tight tonally, as it not-quite-seamlessly merges the stuff of a dystopian action-thriller (the violent raids leave a lasting impression) with a father-figure relationship drama (unsurprisingly, the question of paternity arises) and a hangout movie (lengthy sequences allowing us to watch residents of The Kitchen at work and play, while a lovingly curated playlist of classic soul and neo-electro sets a lively mood). Kaluuya and co. aim to put young Benji at the fulcrum of an ideological tug-of-war between Staples’ Dark Robin Hood revolutionaries and Izi’s significantly more passive pragmatism, but the tension sags as the vibey hangout scenes occupy significant chunks of the run time, and as Bannerman and Robinson aren’t inspired to develop their characters beyond boilerplate tropes. It’s easy to respect and admire the filmmakers’ ambition, intent and visual execution, but the material needs a more steely and confident approach, a harsher contrast of violence and love to elevate the film from watchable to truly memorable.

Our Call: It’s easy to like and admire The Kitchen in spite of its faults. So STREAM IT and chalk it up as a good-but-not-great effort from first-timers showing enough potential to make their next effort one worth anticipating.

John Serba is a freelance writer and film critic based in Grand Rapids, Michigan.