At the get-go, the premise of The Kitchen is promising. It’s 1978, the height of the women’s liberation movement. The film is based on the DC comic of the same name, featuring three women who go from submissive homemakers to mob bosses. When their husbands, members of the Irish mob, get arrested, three women are left to fend for themselves.
But the three leading women are far away from being independent. Kathy (Melissa McCarthy) is a meek mother of two, dependent on her husband to bring home the bacon. Ruby (Tiffany Haddish) — a black woman married to an Irish man, heir to the mob empire — is at loggerheads with both her husband and mother-in-law, Helen (Margo Martindale). Lastly, there’s Claire (Elisabeth Moss) whose spirit is crushed everyday by the blows her spouse routinely doles out.
- Director: Andrea Berloff
- Cast: Melissa McCarthy, Tiffany Haddish, Elisabeth Moss, Margo Martindale, Domhnall Gleeson
- Storyline: When their husbands, part of the Irish mob, get arrested, three homemakers take over their criminal empire
What should be a rousing transformative arc for each of the three protagonists ends up rehearsed and far from authentic. Though she’s the brains, Kathy’s hardening personality is never fully impactful. Then there’s Ruby, with her money-hungry and wily streak, who director Andrea Berloff tries to humanise at several points, with every attempt failing miserably. Even Claire’s complete 180-degree turn into the crew’s muscle cannot be appreciated.
With a staccato narrative, The Kitchen ’s plot features an excessive number of twists and turns that insulates the audience to some of the bigger reveals, including a surprise death. It’s uncertain whether the Indian censor board has been trigger happy or whether the film has been shoddily edited. In either case, most scene changes end in head scratches. Tiresomely, Berloff makes it a point to milk the feminist angle at every turn, whether it’s someone randomly name dropping Gloria Steinem or a rich monologue about women putting themselves first.
The Kitchen has an exemplary cast, including supporting actors like a brilliant Martindale. But their performances cannot alleviate the disappointment of the film’s screenplay. Berloff tries hard to make her film slick and give her cast the self-assured confidence of men who usually dominate the genre. While the intention is clear, the execution fails on several accounts.
