In 2021, Stephen Graham starred in what he has called “the most exhilarating film [he’s] ever worked on”. Boiling Point, about a busy upscale restaurant run by depressive, alcoholic head chef Andy Jones (Graham) was an indie marvel, earning four nominations at last year’s Baftas including for the top prize of Outstanding British Film. Filmed in real time, in one take, it was a breathless, manic, ambitious work of genius with an overwhelming sense of doom that was impossible to look away from.
A follow-up TV series, then, was a no brainer, especially given the recent success of US drama The Bear, which also transports us to a stressful restaurant kitchen. The first of four episodes began worlds away from the high intensity of the original film, with Andy’s former sous chef Carly (Vinette Robinson, Six Four) heading up a new restaurant in London, Point North, serving elevated, fine dining versions of classic northern dishes.
The gang who used to work under Andy were all present – Freeman (Ray Panthaki), Camille (Izuka Hoyle), Emily (Hannah Walters) – and while there were a few newcomers (most notably an impressive Shaun Fagan as loveable Scouse gobshite Bolton), the main difference between the old kitchen and the new was a sense of harmony. The restaurant ran like a well-oiled machine, the light mood making way for banter and inside jokes between the chefs. As the orders came in, stress levels appeared just about manageable.
Here, small details made the drama feel more real. We learned through snippets of overheard conversation that rising star chef Jamie was struggling to find somewhere to live and so was staying with Emily; that Camille struggled to understand Bolton’s accent and constantly tried to mimic him; that waiter Musa (Ahmed Malek) had a habit of turning up to work with a terrible hangover. It’s these vignettes into each character’s inner lives that make Boiling Point so believable.
Of course, though, the pot eventually boiled over. Carly and her business partner Liam (Joel MacCormack) were on a mission to impress some VIP diners who might invest in the restaurant, but when Carly’s mother pulled her emergency alarm calling her home, the meeting was abandoned. Instead, it was down to Freeman – already pushed to breaking point by a useless new staffer – to turn on what little charm he had in a bid to woo the City boy guests. And then they started racially abusing him.
The fury in Freeman’s eyes and his sarcastic retorts betrayed the smile on his face and it was clear he was saving his pent-up fury to unleash once back inside the sacrosanct of the kitchen. When he erupted, he chucked a bottle of sauce across the room and quit. At last, Boiling Point channelled the uncomfortable, incendiary runaway train atmosphere that made the film so compelling.
But it was fleeting: otherwise, this TV version never quite matched the heights of its predecessor. Aside from a gripping opening sequence, the one-shot style of filming was dropped, and without it much of the urgency was lost.
There was also, frankly, not enough Stephen Graham. His magnetic performance in the film was stunning, a portrayal of a man slowly cracking under pressure before allowing it to crush him. He is, without a doubt, one of Britain’s best actors and so it was a shame that we saw him just twice in the hour, still drinking post-heart operation and living in squalor.
Even with such little screen time and hardly moving from his chair, Graham still made Adam a bleakly, dispirited man, furiously jealous that Carly had the temerity to steal his team and open a new restaurant. But these appearances felt tacked on.
You don’t need to have watched the original film to enjoy Boiling Point (flashbacks to pivotal scenes do the job of catching up any clueless viewers). In fact, perhaps you’ll like it more without the previous masterpiece to compare it to: the programme is fervid, moreish and arresting. I almost wish I had come to it with fresh eyes. Perhaps I would have been able to appreciate how genuinely brilliant the series is on its own merits.