Long before The Grill, a popular eatery in the heart of Times Square, opens its doors, the small army of workers have put in hours of labor getting the kitchen ready for the day’s guests.  It is Estela’s (Anna Díaz) first shift at The Grill and she is assigned to work under Pedro (Raúl Briones) on the line, however Pedro is more interested in continuing to court Julia (Rooney Mara), one of the waitresses.  Having been promised by Rashid (Oded Fehr), the owner, that they will help Pedro with his immigration papers, the young man is excited for what doors that will open up for him and Julia, but as an investigation into a missing deposit from the previous night’s till begins to hone in on the cook, his future at the restaurant is threatened. 

Alonso Ruizpalacios writes and directs La Cocina, an adaptation of Arnold Wesker’s 1957 play, for WILLA who gave the film a limited fall release in the United States and Mubi who handled the digital rollout in the same territory in spring the following year. The film premiered at the 2024 edition Berlin international film festival where it competed for the Golden Bear, and embarked on the festival circuit from there, gaining a strong reputation yet never galvanizing that moderate respect into sweeping laurels.  Running a robust 139 minutes, on par with the run time of Wesker’s original material, it flies by thanks to its just-shy-of farcical timing coupled with the break neck pacing of a bustling commercial kitchen.   

Timely as ever, La Cocina handles it’s everyday politics in a way that we encounter in our everyday lives, highlighting the backbone which the immigrant work force provides and the perpetual gamble these vital workers take every day they show up to work.  Ruizpalacios never allows the characters time to get up an to preach – though he does afford the head chef (Lee Sellars) time to get up on an overturned milkcrate to deliver a rousing rendition of the national anthem to boost company moral – but rather he delivers the thesis of the film through constant action slowing down only once at the tail end of the second act to let these characters breathe and humanize them in a scene that feels the most deeply theatrical across the entire affair.  Before any of that, however, we sit through Estele’s interrupted interview, learning about the missing money before being taken to the changing room to prep.  The locker room scene has all the kinetic energy of being behind stage ahead of the curtain opening as the large staff quickly change into their uniforms, puff down the last cigarette, and rail against the outside forces that bog down their lives.  It is hectic, it is claustrophobic, it is down right nuclear as these personalities fuse and split, each woman with her own reasons for showing up that day yet all working in begrudging service of Rachid’s enterprise. 

All of this is captured in crisp black and white photography by Juan Pablo Ramírez who additionally expertly moves the camera around in this tight space so that we can see the chaotic symphony playing at once and also hone in on the individual players, too.  Editor Yibran Asuad assembles the footage, again, with a break neck pace and together with Ruizpalacios, they transform the story into something inherently cinematic despite it’s roots on the stage.   

Even in the addictive chaos of the film, there is an ironic, calming beacon in the live wire, Julia; a lighthouse beam signaling the arrival at someplace safe.  Mara brings a little more framework to the story, even more so than the missing cash, as she has been engaged with Pedro as a steady casual hookup, though you may not get that same answer if you ask him.  She is pregnant with his child and has an appointment at the clinic in between the lunch and dinner rushes, and while Pedro did provide her with the funds to go through with the abortion, he also had asked her to reconsider or at lest let him join her.  Coupled with the promise of a visa, Julia is the guiding light of the film for Pedro, our de facto protagonist on whom the narrative hinges even if how we see the events of the film are slightly more filtered through Estele’s widely opened lens.  That is not to say that Mara has any less influence over the tone of the scenes she is in, and conversely, her absence is often a driving factor in scenes where she is out in the dining room instead of the kitchen.  It is a role that could easily get consumed by the sheer volume of everything else going on, but Mara brings a steely resolve to the character so that we never forget her, but she never broaches into territory where we are not incredibly sympathetic of her modern plight.  A mix of nuanced writing that helps to inform a complex performance, Julia’s story is just one of many of young adults looking to get by in this hamster wheel of a world we, the masses, live in. 

The actual artistry of La Cocina is the icing on the cake of this film.  With some bravado camera work, especially while working those opening lunch tickets, there is a tangible sense of urgency and professionalism on behalf of the ensemble of chefs at work that is a sight to see.  It is, oddly enough, the only time in the film that the black and white photography gets in the way as we are left tantalized by this food, yet it is devoid of color, and because we eat with our eyes and we know what these delicious sandwiches and plates should look like, we are left salivating at what we cannot have.  In this way, we become like Pedro, on the hook of a promise that is so close, yet so far away. This extra thematic layer makes black and white the correct way to capture the film as it is the only way that the rest of this film could work as to add color to the mix of what we see on screen would be simply too much to absorb at once even to the alert audience.  All great chef’s learn restraint, and so too do directors, elevating the ingredients and techniques which they have purposefully selected to either the plate or the frame, showing it off with all of its best qualities to the hungry recipients of their craft. 

La Cocina is a wonder to behold in that almost the entire narrative hinges on being an accident waiting to happen; one plate too many balanced on a platter destined to fall.  But it never does!  Finely orchestrated with a deep care and love for its characters, while never holding them so dear that they can do no wrong, once clocked in, they strive and writhe for freedom in this microcosm of the world.  Under the watchful eye of Rachid, a figure not unlike the Old Testament God who showed his love through trials and sternness, there can be no mistakes in the kitchen or else you will face exile.  Adroitly, however, Ruizpalacios also weaves in the hierarchy of business and how the falterings of those in the upper echelon get passed down to those who have had no hand in whatever went wrong.  It is the smallest, most easily replaceable of the workers who keep the machine running, forced to march to the endless buzzing of the ticket printer or to dance in the pulse of its green light for the benefit of Rachid.  The film becomes an ode to those workers, celebrating them, recognizing them, and humanizing them at a time when the divide between the haves and the have nots has never been greater.  Even more importantly, however, the film offers a window into this world so that hopefully those who will leave the film may walk away with a better understanding of who it truly is that allows them all the comforts of society; comforts that the workers themselves may not even be afforded.