Director Alonso Ruizpalacios, left, alongside striking Mexican actor Raúl Briones, right, at a 'La Cocina' press conference in Mexico. Photo / Getty Images
Director Alonso Ruizpalacios, left, alongside striking Mexican actor Raúl Briones, right, at a 'La Cocina' press conference in Mexico. Photo / Getty Images
La Cocina, directed by Alonso Ruizpalacios, is in cinemas now.
Set during the lunchtime rush of a bustling New York restaurant, La Cocina portrays the hurly-burly of the kitchen, blending personal drama with warm-hearted camaraderie, dashed with swear words hurled in the mother tongues of its immigrant staff.
Centralto the story is boozing troublemaker Pedro (striking Mexican actor Raúl Briones), one of several undocumented cooks employed in the famous tourist trap. His arrogant antics are wearing thin. “Three strikes and you’re out!” bellows Lee Sellars’ head chef as Pedro takes unscheduled smoko breaks and mucks up meal orders.
Chief among Pedro’s distractions is Julia (Rooney Mara) a self-possessed waitress with her own problems.
The film is loosely based on Arnold Wesker’s 1957 play The Kitchen, and though this updated cast wears modern-day sneakers and hoodies, Mexican director Alonso Ruizpalacios maintains the old-fashioned feel of a Times Square institution, where staff smoke as they slave over hot stoves and make calls from payphones, not cellphones.
Adding to its throwback charm, La Cocina is shot in beautifully crisp black and white photography, illuminating the natural performances by a superb cast of mostly unknowns representing an authentically diverse immigrant community.
Tensions boil over during a scene with cooks and servers humorously cursing each other out in their florid local slang, while Max, the sole white monolingual American chef, angrily despairs.
It’s not quite Boiling Point or The Bear but things do get stressful – pounding sound design adds to an intense scene shot in one long take in which everything that can go wrong seemingly does.
The script’s stage origins are evident in a couple of theatrical moments: a soliloquy in the meat freezer, and the occasional earnest monologue between workers.
Brought to the screen, however, the melodramatic aspects are mitigated by the stunning monochrome cinematography.
Amidst the companionship and cuisine some vaguely surreal moments still somehow feel in keeping with the overall tone. La Cocina is best served as an in-cinema experience, for immersion in an exciting, exhausting, behind-the-scenes world.
