Spinning plates
suspiciously, on what appears to be a water bottle, his problems begin to pile up.
Andy isn’t a shouter like Gordon Ramsay, but he’s trying to keep a tight lid on unresolved issues at home and at work.
His problems are compounded by a manager in thrall to social media influencers, a surprise visit from a restaurant critic, and an ultimatum from Jason Flemyng’s smarmy TV chef.
Single-take movies are a logistical challenge. If an actor fluffs their lines at 89 minutes, everyone has to start all over again. But Boiling Point doesn’t feel gimmicky. Here, the frenetic movement of the camera adds to the tension and injects energy into an otherwise humdrum setting.
At times, Andy’s hour and a half feels too packed with unfortunate incidents, and I wished Barantini had cooked up a few darkly comedic moments to puncture the toe-curling tension.
But a brilliant Graham stops it coming off the boil. His tightly coiled turn reminded me of his role in Shane Meadows’s excellent TV drama The Virtues. Only this time, there’s no place to hide.
Here, Graham is falling apart in real time, and it’s impossible to look away.
A rising star chef is caught up in a never-ending kitchen nightmare