The greatest tragedy of Boiling Point is that not everyone will be able to see it after rushing to a cafe with 10 minutes left to hit play on the press platform, because there was perhaps no better way to put me in the right state of mind. Philip Barantini’s feature adaptation of his 2019 short film is a frantic snapshot of one night running an expensive restaurant, captured confidently in one extended shot.
The film loosely follows Andy (Stephen Graham), a recently separated restaurateur arriving at work late only to discover that both his celebrity chef former boss and a marriage proposal are expected that evening. However, the camera doesn’t remain by his side and as the story progresses we are shown the night from the perspective of much of the rest of his team too. It’s a simple story but it provides the necessary emotional space for the film to explore how all of its characters react under this kind of pressure.
Where Boiling Point does excel is in the rendering of all these unique characters, even if only allowed a few minutes on screen we are given what feels like a window into their lives and it makes the film feel genuinely rich as an attempt at framing a moment in time. Though Stephen Graham’s Andy comes to act as a kind of emotional grounding rod for the film, it does not seek to make statements about his righteousness and there are moments of catharsis built out of characters holding him to account.
The film’s use of the one take style is especially successful and acts as a good example of how it can contribute to a film as opposed to feeling like a superfluous gimmick. Barantini’s camera does not favour any one character, instead opting to float between moments as a neutral observer, allowing audiences a sense of this not only as a story but as a world. Barantini and cinematographer Matthew Lewis find cinematic compositions as they are moving and will often rest on the same frame for an extended period of time in a way that allows the camera’s presence to fade into the background. The tight spaces of the restaurant mean that instead of feeling like a fly on the wall we are almost allowed to feel like another character within the scene
Boiling Point uses this thoughtful presentation to compliment a story that subtly touches on a lot of big ideas and, while like its direction, it doesn’t stop to pick a side. It leaves audiences with a lot to think about. Andy is a well drawn character and Stephen Graham’s characteristically confident performance transforms this into a story about obsession and the sacrifices people make for their work. Though the film might run somewhat longer than is necessary to tell its story, it uses this time mostly well to introduce us to the real lives of its other characters and it didn’t feel like moments were wasted. Little time is spent on introducing us to the backgrounds of any character, which means that viewers are left to form an idea of them based on these short interactions, something that smartly mirrors the way people are generally introduced in reality and contributes to the sense that we are watching these events play out from inside.
Boiling Point is a fundamentally simple film, its story neither epic nor hugely contemplative and its filmmaking intentionally unextravagant. And yet it is very subtly arresting. Philip Barantini’s success in capturing the feeling of watching moments of reality play out gives the film an enrapturing quality, as if challenging an audience to keep looking, whether for recognition or escape.
