I feel like the gangster films are one of the few genre exercises that audiences are forgiving when it comes to excess. Be it excess in length, violence, stylistic flourishes, or a complicated and ambitious web of characters and plot. The genre speaks to something uniquely American, and reveling in that world while exposing truths about a greater understanding of who we are is something that has clearly connected on a mainstream level. Obviously, not all gangster movies are or have to be grand, two-plus hour epics, just look at some of the ones that came out in the 30s and 40s, but sometimes it’s worth knowing when it’s fine to let a film breathe and indulge itself.
Which brings us to The Kitchen, the directorial debut from screenwriter, Andrea Berloff, who is adapting the comic book miniseries of the same name by Ollie Masters and Ming Doyle. It follows the lives of three women, Kathy Brennan (Melissa McCarthy), Ruby O’Carroll (Tiffany Haddish), and Claire Walsh (Elisabeth Moss), who live in Hell’s Kitchen in the late 70s,and are each married to members of the Irish mob. The husbands are caught in an FBI sting operation, leading them to prison for three years. When the wives realize the money they’re receiving from the mob is barely enough to get by, they decide to come together, and get into the business for themselves, which turns out well…to a point, as these stories usually go.
I love me a gangster movie. I love the period costumes, I love the way music is often utilized, I love the colorful characters, and the seductiveness of the lifestyle and power combined with the harsh reality that brings everything full circle in the end. These movies don’t typically stray far from a couple of set formulas, and that’s fine by me. The (main) problem with The Kitchen isn’t the story itself, as it’s genuinely interesting, and – from what little I recall – fairly accurate to the source material. The big issue that plagues this film is the pacing. It covers a lot of narrative ground, and it juggles multiple characters, plot threads, and surprise reveals all within a tightly packed hour and 43 minutes, and it’s not tight in a good way. Imagine a friend of yours frantically describing the plot of a three hour movie in three minutes, and that about sums up what watching The Kitchen is like. It movies so fast, covering only what information is necessary from one scene to the next without the grace necessary for true economic storytelling. Why did the filmmakers feel the need to rush themselves, I don’t know, but it does a huge disservice to the story.
There are other issues, but they aren’t necessarily deal breakers. The New York of the late 70s lacks the gritty and grimy feel that they’re trying to evoke, same goes for all the clothes and cars, all of which feel too clean and pristine, as if they were never used until filming began. Some old studio logos in the beginning, and a few crumpled up papers on the sidewalk is hardly enough to sell the feel of that specific era. Nitpicks can also be made of certain story beats, one particular plot turn that shows up near the end is bafflingly executed, and not even remotely addressed after the fact, despite it being a very major moment.
Despite this, I ended up enjoying the film for the most part. Perhaps it’s my soft spot for the genre, but it is also in the performances that I found a lot of genuine entertainment that kept me engaged for the whole film. McCarthy, Haddish, and Moss are all terrific, each playing very different personalities that clash in interesting ways as they try to work towards a single goal. I was specifically impressed with Haddish, especially during one moment where she sees a dead body, and she does some wonderful acting with her face, constantly switching between horror, sadness, confidence, and swagger in the – sometimes literal – blink of an eye. I was floored. The supporting players is made up of some of the best character actors put there, with the likes of Brian d’Arcy James, James Badge Dale, Bill Camp, Domhnall Gleeson, and Margo Martindale each putting everything into these smaller roles. Martindale comes to mind as the one who is closest to stealing the whole show as Ruby’s hardened mother-in-law, Helen, who runs the Irish mob. Common is the one disappointment, casting wise, as FBI agent, Gary. He feels so disconnected from everything that’s happening during the middle stretch of the movie, and most of it is nothing but exposition and repeating old info, which makes it all the more bizarre by his sudden importance near the end.
While I ultimately had a good time with The Kitchen, it is by no means an easy recommendation. The plotting is a mess through and through, and robs a lot of the potential thematic and emotional impact. There is legitimately no reason whatsoever that this needed to be shorter than something like Hobbs & Shaw. Despite itself, I liked the look of the film, I dug the soundtrack, the bursts of violence are appropriately shocking and nasty, there’s moments of sharp and dark humor, and three leads who manage to do a good job of elevating really thin material. My enjoyment is largely superficial, and mostly informed by aesthetics and my love for the genre, and I know not everyone will have that experience. Berloff’s efforts as a director have a solid enough foundation if she so chooses to continue exploring and experimenting, and while there are things that I was disappointed by, there is some fun to be had, and I hope she is given the opportunity to find and refine her voice as a filmmaker.
And for no reason whatsoever, I’d like to remind you to see Widows if you haven’t already.