KITCHEN

I think Warhols films are historical documents. One hundred years from now they will look at <i>Kitchen</i> and see that incredibly cramped little set, which was indeed a kitchen; maybe it was eight feet wide, maybe it was six feet wide. It was photographed from a middle distance in a long, low medium shot, so it looked even narrower than that. You can see nothing but the kitchen table, the refrigerator, the stove, and the actors. The refrigerator hummed and droned on the sound track. Edie had the sniffles. She had a dreadful cold. She had one of those colds you get spending the long winter in a cold-water flat. The dialogue was dull and bounced off the enamel and plastic surfaces. It was a horror to watch. It captured the essence of every boring, dead day ones ever had in a city, a time when everything is imbued with the odor of damp washcloths and old drains. I suspect that a hundred years from now people will look at <i>Kitchen</i> and say, «Yes, that is the way it was in the late Fifties, early Sixties in America. Thats why they had the war in Vietnam. Thats why the rivers were getting polluted. Thats why there was typological glut. Thats why the horror came down. Thats why the plague was on its way.» Kitchen shows that better than any other work of that time.

Norman Mailer,
«Edie» Jean Stein, N.Y. 1982

Together with the screening of <filmlink id=\"1936\">Screen Tests (Reel 23)</filmlink>