‘The Kitchen’: London Review

Dirs: Kibwe Tavares, Daniel Kaluuya. UK. 2023. 98mins

In a near-future London, the residents of a sprawling housing estate called The Kitchen are engaged in a daily battle against eviction, the land having been earmarked for development. Within this framework, co-directors Kibwe Tavares and Daniel Kaluuya paint a damning portrait of displacement and gentrification, where a constant march for “better” is widening the gap between rich and poor, and eroding the basic tenets of community and connection. While the subtle world-building may be more consistently impressive than the familiar narrative, The Kitchen nevertheless makes its points with style. That, together with the presence of Oscar-winner Kaluuya (who stays behind the camera), should attract attention following its London Film Festival premiere and an as-yet-undated limited theatrical run ahead of a Netflix bow.

Makes its points with style

Kaluuya and Tavares (both former Screen Stars Of Tomorrow) have been working on this film since 2013, when Kaluuya starred in Tavares’s short Jonah; writer and fellow Star Of Tomorrow Joe Murtagh (Calm With Horses) was brought in to shape the final screenplay alongside Kaluuya. It is never explicit about when The Kitchen is set, but its still-recognisable version of London suggests it is not that far away. The skyline is now rammed with massive skyscrapers and cranes fill all available space.

Emails, messages and endless pop-up ads flash up on bathroom mirrors.  And police drones patrol The Kitchen, a huge housing project that looks like a haphazard stack of Lego bricks. (Parisian estate Damiers de Dauphine was used for external shots, while several different London locations including Holloway Prison were used for interiors). Some of The Kitchen’s younger residents attempt to take out the drones with giant slingshots, neatly underscoring the David vs Goliath battle they are waging against authorities. 

Izi (charismatic rap star Kane ‘Kano’ Robinson) has had enough of the fight, and is just days away from moving into his own apartment in aspirational tower block Buena Vida. He works at ecological funeral home Life After Life, where low-income families who cannot afford a funeral have the remains of their loved ones merged with tree seeds and supposedly replanted. Izi meets young Benji (impressive newcomer Jedaiah Bannerman, demonstrating a keen sense for comedy) at the funeral of his mother — someone Izi once knew. Utterly lost, Benji latches onto a reluctant Izi and the pair begin to develop a shaky bond.

The true nature of that bond is never really in doubt, but the film doesn’t treat their relationship as a secret — rather something they know, but neither says out loud. For Izi, Benji is something of a roadblock on his journey to supposed freedom away from The Kitchen; for Benji, Izi and the estate represent the possibility of a family of sorts.

And while the building’s monolithic aesthetic feels like a mash up of Peach Trees, the ill-fated Mega City One block from Dredd, and Blade Runner’s neon-tinged industrial future-noir, human life is vibrant here. People look out for each other, overseen by ‘Lord Kitchener’ (Ian Wright), who broadcasts positive affirmations and uplifting beats from his high-rise apartment. Cinematographer Wyatt Garfield’s kinetic camera weaves in and around the estate, following the action; other sequences away from The Kitchen are more static, and traditionally framed. The estate has genuine heart and soul.

The sharp score, by Hackney-born rapper/composer Labrinth and Alex Baranowski, brings a dystopian energy, while the soundtrack is grounded and eclectic with some epic needle drops; garage, drum and bass and jungle mix with dancehall and afrobeat, underscoring the cultural melting pot of London. And while The Kitchen features predominantly Black British protagonists, the residents of the eponymous estate come from multiple races and cultures, pulled together by a lack of options and a shared determination to hold onto their homes.

When Izi and Benji’s story rather runs out of steam two-thirds of the way through — the pair having developed such a lovely rapport that there is only one way they are headed — this sense of place, this vividly-drawn community, keeps the energy from dwindling, and reminds us of all that we have to lose.