More of your standard heavy than a killer hitman, Warner Bros.’ new ’70s-set drama, “The Kitchen” is all about blunt force instead of skill. The directorial debut of “Straight Out of Compton” co-writer Andrea Berloff, “The Kitchen” takes a blackjack club to the traditionally male-driven mafia drama skull, with a trio of female crime bosses taking over New York City’s Hell’s Kitchen in the late 1970s. But despite the terrific trifecta of talents in its leads Melissa McCarthy, Tiffany Haddish, and Elisabeth Moss, and the potential chemistry that offers, the movie provides little sizzle beyond its central conceit, thanks largely to clumsy editing.
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An FBI raid results in a trio of Irish mob men — Jimmy (Brian D’arcy James), Kevin (James Badge Dale), and Rob (Jeremy Bobb) — being sent to prison for three years. The wives they’ve left behind — Kathy (McCarthy), Ruby (Haddish), and Claire (Moss) — can’t survive on the pittance they’re getting from mob boss Little Jackie (Myk Watford), whose collection operation isn’t what it once was. Cathy, Ruby, and Claire step in, offering protection to businesses around New York’s West Side neighborhood, making money and making enemies as they grow in prominence in the city’s underworld.
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Power struggles in crime films are nothing new, but “The Kitchen” at least adds the elements of sexism and racism in the ‘70s to stand out. Despite the polyester and pussy-bow blouses, the film feels contemporary in its themes of female empowerment and racial equality, but it doesn’t dig too deeply into these ideas either. Based on a comic book by Ollie Masters and Ming Doyle, Berloff’s script hints at something deeper — and better — but little of that ends up on the screen. The editing by Christopher Tellefsen—either by design or by studio dictum, it’s unclear—also cleaves “The Kitchen” down to the bone, leaving little meat or connective tissue to inspire. Glimpses of the women’s relationships with their husbands and where they reside in a world that only considers them mothers or sex objects are offered, but those moments are fleeting and largely superficial. Instead, we’re treated to obvious dialogue and scenes that give us either far too much information or far too little. “The Kitchen” often feels — and falls — flat, never establishing a steady rhythm or tone. It crams a lot of story into brief scenes, which transition too abruptly to the next ones.
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With the casting of McCarthy and Haddish, some audiences may go in expecting a comedy, but “The Kitchen” generally plays it straight for most of its run time. There are bits of humor in this otherwise grim film, but it’s unclear whether some of the lines were actually meant to be funny or if the personas of the two actresses are working against them in some of the scenes here. Haddish and McCarthy get more screen time, but Moss gets the more interesting role, playing a battered wife who takes to the violence of her new job with glee. Common appears briefly as an FBI agent who could’ve been played by anyone for all the impact he and the character make, but Domhnall Gleeson steals scenes as sexy psycho angel Gabriel, who is the trio’s muscle, despite his wiry frame. As the matriarch of the Irish crime family, Margo Martindale also has a small role, clearly relishing a part that earns getting called the c-word for her behavior.
In an alternate universe, we were given a far better version of “The Kitchen,” one that really cooks and takes a little more time to tell what should’ve been a fascinating story that could have featured some poignant post-#MeToo dimensions and texture. One that could have had much more depth about empowerment, reclaiming agency and one that lets its talented cast shine; a huge missed opportunity here given these heavyweight thespians and the inspired idea to put this disparate threesome together. Instead, because we’re living in the worst timeline, these actors and concept are wasted in a movie that lacks spark, flavor, spice, and generally anything that generates or even resembles substantive heat. [C-]