Boiling Point: A nail-biting kitchen drama that’s British TV at its best

 

Boiling Point: A Masterful Display of Cinematic Excellence

If you experienced the cinematic journey of Boiling Point, I must extend my sympathies for any lingering unease it may have induced. Did your heart’s rhythm once again quicken? Take a moment, inhale deeply. Are you now composed? Very well.

If you witnessed this film, you’ll recall three distinguishing attributes: firstly, the breathtaking logistical feat of a single-camera, single-take marvel, a balletic fusion of performance and direction; secondly, its unrelenting tension, an ultra-realistic portrayal of how an ostensibly ordinary evening in the crucible of a high-caliber restaurant can either make or unmake individuals in a mere 90 minutes; and lastly, the extraordinary central portrayal by Stephen Graham, for it is his nature to do naught but excel. A splendid film, a triumph of cinema, and yet, one I am in no great haste to revisit personally.

An Hour of Tension for a Lifetime of Drama

Now, how inclined are you towards four additional hour-long episodes, featuring the same ensemble and the writer-director team? Your trepidation is not misplaced. However, the series of Boiling Point (BBC One, Sunday, 9 pm) stands as a paragon of British television at its zenith, demanding an hour of your week wherein you willingly subject yourself to tension in exchange for riveting drama.

The inaugural episode commences with yet another uninterrupted take, compelling you to set aside distractions and truly immerse yourself. From that point onward, you are ensnared. We are introduced to both the front-of-house and back-of-house teams, witnessing minor intrigues that possess the potential to burgeon into significant ones (a novice arrives tardily and inexperienced; a clandestine affair unfolds amongst two members of the bar staff; a phone persistently rings; tempers flare; light banter edges perilously close to the precipice of discord).

The emotional groundwork is meticulously laid. What proves particularly gratifying, beyond an exemplary script, an ensemble of exceptional talent, and the visually arresting cinematography, is the pursuit of those subtle cues that may herald impending turmoil. That skillet has been on the heat for an inordinate span, observe! We have not sighted that character in a while. Hold on, that’s not the… Alas, it’s too late, it’s already at the pass. A breath-stealing experience.

However, terms like “breath-stealing”, “tension”, “Stephen Graham’s distinctive blend of thunderous proclamation followed by a languorous slump against a wall culminating in a stoic, masculine sob” are not typically employed to characterise televised entertainment meant for relaxation. To zero in on the high-stakes tightrope walk of Boiling Point – a production wherein tension assumes the role of a character as well as a throbbing narrative engine – would be an injustice to the profundity and the humane essence that permeate these four episodes.

Here, there are wild oscillations of mood, feelings hurt and subsequently healed, friendships teetering on the brink of intimacy, and a debacle involving the preparation of duck. There are missed orders and the gnawing sensation of falling behind, interspersed with quieter, poignant scenes of these individuals in their domestic sanctuaries, no longer exclaiming but merely weathering life’s storms.

Boiling Point is an unflinchingly forthright exhibition – early themes encompass casual drug usage in the realm of hospitality, struggles with alcoholism, and self-inflicted wounds, terrain a shade too rugged for the channel that also brings forth The One Show – yet it is all the more laudable for it. One truly cannot avert their gaze.

Shall we dissect it further? Very well, then. This year witnessed the advent of the sophomore instalment of The Bear, the American amalgam of culinary challenge and stress (which also featured an episode executed in one continuous take). It’s curious that two of the more superlative offerings of 2023 share overlapping genetic material, yet to label Boiling Point as a British iteration of The Bear is to misconstrue both.

The Bear leans heavily on familial ties, an almost cartoonish propulsion of “what could possibly go awry this week,” and larger-than-life caricatures more conducive to moments of genuine hilarity (Ebon Moss-Bachrach’s Richie may well be my preferred character currently gracing the small screen). Boiling Point incorporates levity – in copious quantities, especially anchored by Gary Lamont’s portrayal of Dean – yet it leans more towards interpersonal observations exchanged in passing with a plate in hand than slapstick mirth (no one, for example, is compelled to wrestle an oversized inflatable hot dog into a diminutive vehicle).

For the initial half-episode of Boiling Point, I entertained apprehensions that perhaps it was an excess of flash and insufficient substance: the inaugural shot (fear not – the show swiftly discards the gimmick of “we have but one camera”), the overly clever banter in the kitchen, characters who serve as archetypes rather than fully realized individuals.

However, it swiftly discovers its operational tempo, and by the conclusion of the second episode, it had engrossed me to such an extent that I – a person of a rather melancholic disposition, not easily moved – came perilously close to shedding a tear in response to one of the narrative twists. I would advise fortifying yourself with a handful of statins and opting for a low-cholesterol spread prior to viewing, but make no mistake, Boiling Point stands as one of the most exceptional offerings on the television landscape this year.