"Skate Kitchen" - Film Review
Skate Kitchen exists by chance. Writer/director Crystal Moselle overheard Nina Moran and Rachelle Vinberg (actual members of the Skate Kitchen collective and stars in the film) talking on a subway train in Brooklyn. Instantly intrigued by their conversation, Moselle asked if she could tag along to the skateboarding meet-up they were going to. Moran and Vinberg agreed, thus beginning the creative partnership that would yield one short film (That One Day), one feature film (Skate Kitchen), and a canceled-too-soon HBO series, Betty.
The real-life Skate Kitchen collective consists of Vinberg, Moran, Kabrina Adams, Ajani Russell, Dede Lovelace, and Brenn and Jules Lorenzo. All of them joined the cast of the film to play semi-fictionalized versions of themselves. The main story focuses on Camille (Vinberg), an eighteen-year-old skateboarder who is growing up on Long Island under the watchful eye of her conservative mother (Elizabeth Rodriguez). Camille stumbles upon Skate Kitchen while she’s scrolling on Instagram and begins to sneak out to skate with them. Camille is on the shy side, while the women of Skate Kitchen are much more rebellious and worldly. They embrace Camille and help her come into her own.
Where Skate Kitchen falters is with the introduction of Devon (Jaden Smith). He belongs to a rival skate group and used to date Skate Kitchen member Janay (Dede Lovelace). When Janay hurts her ankle and is housebound, Camille starts to spend all of her time with Devon instead of the Skate Kitchen girls. It’s somewhat disappointing that a movie with so many fascinating female characters chooses to focus on drama over a boy. Before Devon’s character is introduced, the Skate Kitchen group spends a lot of time talking about teenage girl things. They discuss sexuality, their parents, tampons vs. pads, and so much more. It’s a genuine take on female friendships that are often overlooked in movies. This is partly thanks to the collaborative effort between Moselle and the real women of Skate Kitchen. They spent eight months rehearsing, writing the script, going to improv classes, and working with acting coaches, because none of the Skate Kitchen women had any professional acting experience.
What makes Skate Kitchen feel magical is the cinéma vérité aspect of it. While mostly used to describe documentaries, cinéma vérité also describes a type of observational filmmaking. Moselle’s directing appears to be nonexistent, which is a testament to the sheer amount of preparation that went into this project and the vision she had for the final cut of the film. It comes from a place of genuine interest in showcasing this subset of teen culture. The final scene is particularly magnificent. Camille, after dealing with the fallout from hanging out with Devon, rejoins Skate Kitchen, and the friends skate together through the streets of Manhattan. It’s impossible to describe the sundrenched, dreamy way Moselle and cinematographer Shabier Kirchner capture New York.
Skate Kitchen has found a way to celebrate the art of skateboarding. Many of the scenes shot in skate parks were filmed by a cameraperson following the action while riding a skateboard. This adds excitement for the audience and allows the love these women have for skateboarding to explode off the screen. It’s a joy that’s palpable, and one that’s not reserved only for skateboarding, but also for the friendships they develop and the happiness that comes when we find our people.
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