With the culinary fervour of The Bear taking the internet by storm, Boiling Point couldn’t have arrived at a better time. Based on the film of the same name starring Stephen Graham in his annus mirabilis, this 4-episode miniseries follows a strong-willed group persevering in the tense food industry despite the shortcomings they face. Although the film is based largely on the gimmick of being a one-take film — similarly to Russian Ark, Birdman (or, The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance), and even the infamous The Bear episode “Review” — the show takes a refreshing technical perspective into the culinary world beyond the mouth-watering aperitifs that lie on the tables. 

Eight months after the events of the film, sous chef Carly fights to forge a reputation for the Point North restaurant. Despite the many setbacks, many of which will no doubt be familiar to those watching The Bear, the kitchen crew try their best to maintain their heads afloat. Although this description may sound fairly vague, it’s pernicious to accurately describe the nature of the show without detracting from its enjoyability. Those who have been overwhelmed by the influx of content from The Bear might find the show’s existence superfluous. But this comparison feels somewhat baseless once you actually watch both shows, as each entity has vastly different goals in its exploration of the underbelly of the culinary world. 

For one, Boiling Point is not particularly concerned with the lives of its characters beyond the setting of the kitchen. Although this may seem cold-hearted and unsympathetic to its characters, the show primarily revolves around the monetary and pragmatic aspects to owning a restaurant, which is first and foremost a business with the purpose of making money. James Cummings, the writer of the show, is familiar with the expectations around British television in contrast with American television. Where The Bear seeks out viewer sympathy, Boiling Point approaches its subjects with a deft touch of realism in all of its dialogue, reminding the viewers of the looming threats that capitalism stands to have on the livelihoods of its workers. There’s an introspection into the lives of these workers, but it’s not in the same sympathetic light that begs us to empathise; rather, it simply states the cold truths of these situations and reflects them in the frenetic energy of the workplace. This detachment between The Bear’s free-wheeling, manifest destiny approach to business, wherein anything is possible with enough grit and determination, is diametrically opposed to Boiling Point’s often dour, pessimistic, but ultimately realistic, view of the restaurant’s financial and social outlook in its society. 

As a cohesive work, the direction brings the work together flawlessly, ultimately finding the low points and spreading them evenly to achieve a more consistently realistic approach to the miniseries while avoiding many of the emotive pitfalls seen in your dime-a-dozen drama. The performances and editing strings the project together in a way that grounds the work. Though the show is incredibly gentle with its characters, it reminds us of a world where chefs have to go above and beyond their work simply as a cook and is a forceful reconsideration of many of the idealised depictions of businesses found in many shows. If The Bear is already seen as an egregious example of a drama masquerading as a comedy in the eyes of the American public, it’s doubtless that many would be able to stomach the gut-wrenching difficulties found in Boiling Point. 

8/10