The Kitchen

Melissa McCarthy, Elisabeth Moss, Tiffany Haddish: Three bona fide movie stars portraying three badass women gangsters on screen — what’s not to love? Unfortunately for Straight Outta Compton screenwriter/first time director Andrea Berloff and her star studded cast, a whole lot.

The Kitchen, based on the 2014 DC Vertigo graphic novel miniseries of the same name (written by Ollie Masters and Ming Doyle), follows New Yorkers Kathy, Claire and Ruby, wives of Irish mobsters in 1978 Hell’s Kitchen. When their husbands are abruptly imprisoned and sentenced to three years’ hard time, the ladies are left to pick up the pieces. Though their husbands’ criminal associates promise to “take care” of them, they quickly realize their allowances aren’t enough and decide to take matters into their own hands. They all agree to take over the criminal rackets while defying the wishes of their fellow mobsters and husbands alike — a contention that appears to be fresh and intriguing on its surface but is met with far too little resistance to feel believable.

The film supposedly explores what happens when women rise up and take charge of their own story but engages this concept far too broadly. The issues that these newly minted crime bosses continually face aren’t given the chance to build upon one another into a central, unifying conflict, so they never weigh heavily enough on the hearts of viewers. In addition to the distractingly unsteady pace and unpolished editing, nearly every plot point finds a resolution relatively easily, all of which lends a disappointing, manufactured quality to the film. They drive the story so quickly — and sometimes confusingly — that there’s little time to invest in the emotional stakes of the characters and the storyline alike.

Still, McCarthy does the most emotional heavy lifting as Kathy, a devoted mother of two who serves as the brains behind the operation. McCarthy tries her best to explore the avenues of motherhood, responsibility and morality — a deeply interesting plight I would have loved to have seen her sink her teeth into — but the dizzying plot ultimately overshadows most of the dramatic strides she makes.

Similarly, Moss’ Claire had the potential to be the most emotionally compelling character with her tragic, battered wife backstory. However, the awkwardly speedy pace of the film prevents the audience (or Claire, for that matter) to wade in the traumatic aftermath of a decade of abuse. Instead, she goes from timid survivor to ruthless killer in the blink of an eye and hardly gets a chance to establish any sense of humanity along the way.

Haddish plays Ruby, a feisty woman struggling with the oppressive side effects of being a woman of color married to a white mobster. While her character evokes important questions of racial and class disparity, she never gets more than a cursory crack at these topics. Throughout most of the film, Haddish tries too hard to sell the stale dialogue as she asserts herself as the comic relief and a hardcore gangster, a tricky dance that largely makes her performance feel forced and inauthentic.

One thing The Kitchen does manage to do well is touch on the insecurities that often plague men in power who are in danger of losing it — a development I was happy to see — but I wanted more of it. In order to invest in each individual storyline, I would have loved a much deeper exploration into how extensively these women’s lives are burdened with toxic masculinity and how they navigate the dangerous waters of violent and fragile male egos. Instead, we’re given brazen character transformations with little to no established motivations, a plot choice the lends considerably less credibility to the characters and film alike.

The strange balance of realistically violent crime scenes, dramatic character attempts and lighthearted anthemic montages make the film feel uneven and contributed to my widespread confusion. Am I supposed to laugh, or is this actually serious? Is this supposed to be a comedic mob movie or a tense crime drama? The film seems to have one foot unsteadily in each genre, and while the idea of toeing both lines is interesting, the execution for each is sadly lacking.

All this is to say that The Kitchen is far from an unwatchable film and justifies its existence with some really fun, entertaining moments between the enigmatic stars and their supporting cast. The authentic late-’70s wardrobe and styling, along with a big, bold soundtrack give the film an energy its storyline so desperately needs. With hits like The Rolling Stones’ “Paint It Black,” Etta James’ “It’s A Man’s Man’s Man’s World” and Heart’s “Barracuda,” the tone enjoyably echoes an unapologetic disruption of the status quo.

The film’s use of The Highwomen’s cover of Fleetwood Mac’s “The Chain” is particularly effective in highlighting the special brand of female frustration the characters are attempting to express, a device that smartly provides focus among the choppy editing and often rambling storyline. The soundtrack and styling are certainly my favorite aspects of the film but only emphasize how much richer the screenplay could have been if Berloff just had enough confidence to let her characters truly get down and dirty.

Unfortunately, the film struggles to stay fully tethered to each of its characters’ hardships, giving viewers an increasing sense of detachment as the narrative proceeds. As I watched each woman’s storyline unfold, I felt the need to keep asking myself why they chose the routes they did. There never seems to be much hesitation with the predicament they find themselves in, especially as they transform from docile housewives to ruthless mob mistresses in a far too premature and generic montage.

The premise could’ve been so powerful for a generation of girls and women who are desperately looking to reclaim their voice in the wake of a post #MeToo era, though in some spots, the women of The Kitchen manage to deliver. Moss’ character is the best example of this, as she’s a domestic abuse survivor looking to drastically change her situation (and ultimately succeeds). However, these attempts to find empowerment, though admirable, are far too underdeveloped and coupled with the crime saga’s weak plot and sloppy execution, the film itself is unfortunately rendered less than inspiring.