Made in the Kitchen

Made in the Kitchen is a sun-drenched, slapstick symphony of familial chaos and boozey revelry, where a flivver overloaded with homebrew becomes both vessel and catalyst for a summer odyssey. Billy Bevan, as the hapless patriarch, leads a ragtag caravan to the coast, his every misstep a masterclass in comedic ineptitude. The trailer, a gargoyle of fermented liquid, becomes a character itself, toppling into waves or spilling its contents with slapstick precision. Louise Fazenda, as the wife, navigates the mayhem with a blend of exasperation and grace, her every glance a silent lament at the absurdity of domestic life. The film’s genius lies in its ability to transform mundane road trip tropes—flat tires, bickering children, and a dog named Teddy who’s always one step ahead—into a vaudevillian ballet of misadventures. The homebrew subplot, both a literal and metaphorical ferment, underscores the film’s thesis: family is a blend of chaos and harmony, best served with a side of cheap beer and a dash of optimism.