"La Cocina” Stirs Up the American Dream—and Its Realities

Mexican director Alonso Ruizpalacios’ debut English-language film delves into social issues hidden behind kitchen doors.

When a restaurant overloads its menu, the standout dishes risk getting lost. Mexican director Alonso Ruizpalacios’ debut English-language film, “La Cocina,” faces a similar challenge—but instead of entrées, this menu is packed with social issues. Ruizpalacios delves into capitalism, the exploitation of undocumented immigrants, classism, and abortion, weaving them into a tale that peels back the layers of hardship hiding behind the kitchen doors.

The film opens with a powerful quote from Henry David Thoreau: “Let us consider the way in which we spend our lives. This world is a place of business,” which sets the stage for one of “La Cocina's” central themes—the way work and money can consume us. While this is the movie’s most prominent issue, it’s not the only one.

“La Cocina” is set at a large restaurant in Hell’s Kitchen (how metaphorical) known as the Grill. While the "kitchen drama" genre has surged in popularity recently—thanks in large part to the success of the TV series “The Bear”—”La Cocina” brings a different energy. It examines how every plate served is shaped by a broken system.

The story opens with 20-year-old Estela, a recent immigrant with limited English, as she makes her way to Manhattan to find work at The Grill—a Cheesecake Factory-esque establishment serving tourists everything from burgers and pizza to chicken marsala and lobster. The kitchen is staffed by immigrant workers whose labor keeps the place running but who remain invisible to the patrons they serve.

The film is in black and white– an interesting choice when cuisine has so much color to offer. But this stylistic decision by Ruizpalacios speaks volumes; it reflects how the kitchen staff, who pour their energy into crafting beautiful dishes, rarely get to savor the fruits of their labor. The kitchen itself is depicted as a battleground, with the camera weaving through tight spaces, capturing snippets of frenzied conversation and heated action that immerses viewers in the chaos.

Once at The Grill, Estela lands a position as an assistant cook, thanks to a family connection. Once Estela gets into the kitchen we see a frenetic rush– the sound of plates and pans, profanity, and the machine spitting out endless order tickets. While it’s jarring to Estela, it’s just a typical day at work…

We’re soon introduced to Pedro, a burnt-out chef who comes from the same small Mexican town as Estela. Pedro’s world is complicated; he’s entangled in a “secret” affair with Julia, a waitress, who reveals she’s pregnant and planning an abortion later that day—despite Pedro’s attempts at dissuading.

As tensions simmer, another conflict erupts: $800 has gone missing from the till, and management is on a mission to find the thief. Their suspicion quickly falls on the kitchen staff, fueled by racial bias.

There are many sharp quotes that often touch on the class and race differences present within the microcosm of the restaurant. One scene that stood out is when Pedro talks to Julia next to the restaurant’s lobster tank. Pedro explains how lobster was known as a poor man’s meat until “a rich asshole” decided it wasn’t. The jabs at the system provided much-needed comic relief throughout the developing chaos.

The events of “La Cocina” unfold over the course of a single day, though the relentless pace makes it feel like a week. Finally, the film reaches the climax which is cathartic and almost surreal as Pedro, pushed to the brink, destroys the kitchen in a frenzy—a symbolic but chaotic display of his and his coworkers' pent-up rage and desperation.

In the final scene, Pedro, jobless and with no future in sight with Julia, stands alone, staring at the green light of the ordering machine, which continues spitting out orders despite his attempt to destroy it. This light—the only color shown in the film—symbolizes money and the elusive American Dream, bringing us full circle to Thoreau’s opening quote. Many questions remain unanswered: Estela fades into the background by the film’s end, and the viewer is left wondering what lies ahead for these characters. But the brutal reality is that life at The Grill will go on—its immigrant workers will continue to power the kitchen, and the owner will keep profiting off their labor.

Covering so many issues in a two-and-a-half-hour film is ambitious—and “La Cocina” ultimately bites off more than it can chew. A more focused storyline and a tighter runtime could have sharpened its impact. Still, “La Cocina” delivers a raw, sobering slice of reality that leaves plenty for audiences to digest.