Interview with Daniel Kaluyya

I’m in a north London barbershop that has weathered the gentrification storm after standing loyal and proud for almost 30 years. As that tenure confesses his age, it almost embarrasses Nev – the shop’s owner who’s only a little irked he didn’t get a heads up before his famous friend glided in for our chat. As he punctually floats in off the street like any of Nev’s clients, Daniel Kaluuya justifies how unannounced he’s had to be; “you know how it is, Nev” (meaning when you’re an A-lister star). It’s the first insight I get to how he navigates his fame as here in ‘Modern Age’ barber shop he could be just one of the lads. No entourage, security or inconspicuous jeep have felt necessary to usher him here to his home turf. But the celebrity is in the detail of how Kaluuya holds his own, from the delicately embroidered name tag on his varsity jacket to the designer sunglasses worn backward across what must be a fresh fade. And as a string of Nev’s regulars happen to walk in off the street, there’s the brotherly nod of respect that each of them receive.

The barber shop represents more than where Kaluuya gets a sharp fade. It’s the soil of which the seed was planted for his latest venture and directorial debut The Kitchen out soon on Netflix. Overhearing a conversation about the million pound smash and grab heists that targeted Central London jewellers, he’d thought about the thieves “who didn’t understand their worth”. “Back then it was ‘Reservoir Dogs in a barber shop”. He says. “I heard about the heists and how the guys doing it were getting £200. £200? That means there’s no one around that they can sell it to for a million. It said a lot about class.” Rather than writing a traditional treatment it resulted in shooting a “taster” here in the barber shop to “show the idea in the medium that it’s going to be digested in – none of this coffee shit”. With a low chuckle that frequently warms our chat, he lovingly recalls the condition he had from boss man, Nev. “He would’ve given it to me for free but we threw him some change but I remember him saying ‘just don’t cut me out!””As promised, Nev appears numerous times giving me my first example of how Kaluuya is true to his word.

Inches into his third decade, Kaluuya has already garnered the kind of accolades that paint the pin up version of success. Kaluuya has sprung from Posh Kenneth in Skins, to performing roles that carved a new cinematic language as they have meticulously explored the historical and contemporary Black experience from Get Out, Black Panther, Queen and Slim, Judas and the Black Messiah and Nope. But while the SAG actors’ strike respectfully narrows such discussions, conveniently it gives us a focus to discuss the new string to his bow.

“Back then it was ‘Reservoir Dogs in a barber shop’. I heard about the heists and how the guys doing it were getting £200. £200? That means there’s no one around that they can sell it to for a million. It said a lot about class.”

Whatever you thought you knew of Kaluuya becomes enriched after viewing what he admits, without hesitation, is his most personal work. While this is a Londoner cherishing his version of the city, preoccupations on gentrification, the widening rich-poor divide, grief and fatherhood are bedded in deep. Using the vessels of Izi (the mighty Kano echoing Top Boy vibes) and 12-year-old Benji (who he describes as one of those “bouncy 3/4PM kids” Jedaiah Bannerman), Kaluuya, co-writer Joe Murtagh (Calm With Horses) and co-director Kibwe Tavares (whose short film Robots of Brixton was a Sundance hit) tell a dystopian story of resistance from within what they call ‘The Kitchen’ – the last form of social housing within a city that’s sold its soul. Although set in a near crumbling future, the date specifics were removed so people could “leave it to the imagination”. But bereft of sci-fi cliches of tinfoil and hoverboards, this is a world that hasn’t forgotten what makes London unique. Within this valentine to a city that has raised Kaluuya to who he is, lies an observational blend of the city’s complicated roots.

Kaluuya’s study of London’s history is most pronounced through Ian Wright’s character ‘Lord Kitchener’ who he confirms is a “doff cap” to the calypso singer and Windrush generation – not the British Secretary of State for war. “There’s a lot of culture that is from the Windrush generation – let’s keep this real! Having the person that’s basically the leader and voice of the community being Lord Kitchener was representative of that. Honouring the fact that “my cadence is Ugandan” he acknowledges the “Jamaican influence” that any young Black Londoner will feel. “In the grand scheme of identities, the Black British identity is new. Windrush was the 40s and 50s so it’s new really in the history of the world. Now is the time I feel like we have to own our identity, own the fact that we are here and this is what we’re about and no we’re not apologising for being here and if you don’t get it, so what?”

Ian Wright (of Jamaican parents) couldn’t be more apt for this role as a pirate radio DJ with the orator urgency of Samuel Jackson in Do The Right Thing. But you’d be forgiven for thinking this was a ‘Gooner’ hiring his hero as it’s no secret Kaluyya’s a big Arsenal fan. “We did a podcast once and I was so starstruck.” Auditioning like anyone else the part was well earned. “With Ian it’s about who he is, not what he does – he just happened to do amazing things as well. That’s what was needed for Lord Kitchener’s role”. The icons of London’s hall of fame go further than Match of the Day. While Kano (yet another descendant from the Windrush generation) is cast here as a brooding distant dad, he’s still recognised as one of the finest UK rappers to leap from grime to the big screen. After a dearth of decent representations of Black fatherhood, Kano (alongside an equally sensitive portrayal by Demmy Ladipo) delivers a refreshingly complex version of a man learning to be a dad. Commending the results, I ask if such chemistry was hard to crack? “We shot as chronologically as possible so as they get to know each other, the bond gets deeper”. As for the careful demystifying of such negative stereotypes, he tells me he wanted to be “honest” about “how messy it [fatherhood] is”. “If you’re a selfish man, you make certain decisions and there are repercussions. Doesn’t mean you’re heartless as the world’s told him to be selfish. Fatherhood is earned, it’s not like – boom you’re a dad now. It’s, are you going to show up? I want certain men to come out and think – you know what? I have that situation with the mum…allow it. We see Kano experiencing his son’s firsts – like his first rave – so then he’s like what else have I missed?”

Kaluuya is a success story of what’s known to be one of the first acting schools for working-class kids, Anna Scher, and has talked fondly of the improvisation techniques he uses to this day. “It was all improvisation. When I write something – that’s the cut of the suit, then we get to tailor it. If I write a line and Jedaiah’s sitting there and he doesn’t say it right, throw it in the bin! Kano was amazing at that – he would just find some truth. In the last take I’d say ‘do what you feel’ and the majority of the takes we used were from that because it’s fresh.”

Across the film’s poster reads ‘every city has its kitchen’ a poetically solemn line that begs to be unpacked. “We’re articulating something dynamic – that the people that are seemingly oppressed are actually resilient. They are joyful but also – don’t fuck with us! A lot of this was inspired by Liverpool and what they did with The Sun newspaper where they just told everyone to fuck themselves, then they were the only Northern city not to vote Brexit and that’s not an accident. They have a unified identity”. Leaning back into his love of London he expands, “I feel like every city has a ‘Kitchen’ and because of the history of London and The Blitz, it’s more pronounced. We were bombed yet we survived. There are still traces of that within our being but the class system dims us, so (here with this film) I’m like take the light and shine!”

Kaluyya’s been somewhat busy in the last ten years which may confess why The Kitchen has taken so long. I wonder how he’s found the time to prioritise his work when Oscars, Golden Globes and BAFTAs are a product of the distractions. “The Golden Globes, Oscars – that helped make this happen. What was that quote? ‘I want to stay clear of opportunities so I can focus on my dreams’. I had to think – what was worthy of taking me away from this? It’s always been the most important thing to me. Every shoot or play that I’ve been on – once finished I’ve been back to this”. And how does it feel sitting here full circle in the place where it all began? “Nuts. Yesterday I was still processing it and today…” inhaling reflectively “more is coming. The film’s not even out yet but I do feel like something’s happened. I know what I’ve set out has been received.” Not that he’s read any of the reviews (apart from, he says, a glance at the Rolling Stone on the way here). “It’s art. If the critics go – ‘oh this area’s not sharp’ – I know! I haven’t figured it out yet – it’s my first film! We’re young filmmakers growing and figuring things out – artists exploring our gifts. This is for the people. I want the people that this is about to feel it.”

After a more recent career of exploring the politics of Black America, Kaluuya has come home to foreground Black British history in his London mother tongue, something he says aimed to be “unapologetically us” with the “richness and complexities of our house”. Passionately expanding he says “It had to feel like people that come to this barbershop. I wanted to see as much of what I see outside on the screen. Everytime I see something on the screen I think – this is fake! It doesn’t have the energy. So I was like – why don’t we just use this” – signalling to where we are – “what we love?”

“We’re young filmmakers growing and figuring things out – artists exploring our gifts. This is for the people. I want the people that this is about to feel it.”

The score (fashioned by Hackney’s Labrinth), mixed with tracks that boom through the pulsating nightclub scenes, provide a familiar soundtrack to anyone who frequented Bagley’s, Corks or Ministry of Sound, to name but a few of the nightclubs Kaluuya wistfully recalls. But anyone who’s been to an RnB nightclub will know the arresting power of Cameo’s Candy dance. Here, The Kitchen pays homage to the infamous synchronised slide. Elevating it from the 1999 film reference that caused it to be a wedding dance staple, Kaluuya has brought it home and placed the routine on wheels. Can he Candy Dance in rollerskates? “No I cannot! The Candy Dance is like church for the club. It’s the one moment where everyone will just stop and dance in unison. It’s like how do you visually show a community having fun at the same time? I feel that was the way to articulate it. I love music. That’s what I wanted to get across – music is what London is.”

Inadvertently, to prove his point, we move to The Spoke pub next door where we’re shown a ‘quiet’ table where loud latin American music thumps from a speaker above. After a pause to politely confirm that ‘yeah’ he’s the guy from Black Mirror, I can’t help wondering how he manages such fame. “I never meant to make this my life. I do a lot of work to make sure I don’t lose touch with reality but do accept I can’t do certain things now. I realised I couldn’t get on the tube when I had an argument – my third in a row. I went into a meeting and came in with a negative attitude and thought – this isn’t good for me”. Elaborating he explains how camera phones have caused a shift in the culture of celebrity. “People film you on the tube and I’m a guy who likes a nap – I know the right stop to get off, it’s an art!” But it’s not that fame that causes the intrigue “it’s because of the projects I’ve picked and what they mean to people that get the tube. If I did Pride and Prejudice at The Dolman Theatre I doubt I’d be bothered.” Apart from missing his TFL pillow I ask what else he pines from the layman’s life. Immediately he says “Carnival [Notting Hill]! Fuck me, everyone who goes Carnival out there – enjoy that shit!”

Serendipity has played a part in Kaluyya’s iconic rise as films like Get Out tackled the facade of Obama’s ‘post racial’ America and Judas and the Black Messiah rode the wave of the Black Lives Matter uprising of 2021. With The Kitchen he’s once again captured a zeitgeist as London pants with exhaustion from a prolonged Tory grind and the cost of living crisis is splintering to a snap. “I’ve been very blessed with a couple of different moments in films that I’ve done” nimbly swerving the names of movies we’re referencing. “But I realise when you tell the truth – it’s the truth! It may feel like things conspire, but we’re being honest about what we see.” While The Kitchen has notes of hope, ultimately it’s a snapshot of London in the dust and rubble. Is this a warning to where we are heading? “It’s not a warning. It’s happening! Before the Blitz, this is how London was. That’s what Dickens [Charles] was talking about – poor against rich and we’re going back to that”. Exemplifying how Camden Market has had its soul watered down, he comes back around to say “this film explores the idea that – what if there was one bit that had the last bit of soul left?” He offers me his last chicken wing. I politely decline. He insists. I realise where we’re both from (Camden and Hackney respectively) offering your last chicken wing is a huge mark of respect – to decline would be plain rude. The chicken is delicious.

We meet the next day after this very cover’s photoshoot where he’s ready to wind down before taking a much needed holiday the forthcoming day. Channelling off the clock vibes, and excited by the offer of food, we settle into a cosy Kings Cross cinema to shoot some more breeze. Thinking about how The Kitchen is a recent breakthrough for an authentically multicultural London, I ask if he’s starting a new wave of films that represent London and its people. He thinks hard. I suggest an easy entry of Adam Deacon who’s Anuvahood series has recently been furnished with this year’s Sumotherhood. “Adam is!” He exclaims in his answer to who else is doing the work. “Adam has an audience. He connects with people and no one else is doing that! Adam in Anuvahood showed everything and he did it through a comedic lens.” Thinking some more he says “Guy Richie did it. Jonathan Glazer did it…” and goes on to hail Shane Meadows as “the man” in terms of evocative British cinema. I charge that the names he’s now referencing aren’t exactly a Black British London – something we agree needs improvement on film. “What I’m saying is let’s not rely on them to tell our stories. Why are we waiting on them to do it? Why would they? We’re asking people who don’t know us to speak for us – it doesn’t make sense.”

Thinking about the room Kaluyya’s career has made for more Black experiences to thrive on screen, I tell him about a discussion I read in Essence magazine between him and Jordan Peele. Here he had confessed to almost giving it all up and I wondered how he pulled himself out of the rut. “A lot of my self esteem was in other people’s hands. Even though I was achieving the checkpoints that I wanted, it was hollow because I didn’t feel ownership over my career.” Observing his growth he continued, “that’s not how I wanted to be an adult or a man. It felt like people were saying ‘you should wait’ or ‘sit down’ and I’m not that guy.” Feeling a “rage” Kaluyya talks of finally taking some time out to find what he loves which included writing The Kitchen which is where he felt an existential “shift”, “I want to do it for people that are around me socially as opposed to professionally. I realised I was getting respect from people that weren’t paying my bills or that would uplift me. All those decisions lead to the inevitability of fame. Because basically, I’ve moved from self serving to service”.

From a decorated actor, running his 59% production company and putting his name to youth theatre projects with the likes of Camden Roundhouse where he is Associate Artistic Director, I ask who I now feel is the busiest man in film, what can’t he do? “I can do anything!” He says with that matter of fact charm. “I’ve always believed that. It’s how I feel about myself. I’m a storyteller. I just believe in my heart that I can do anything. I don’t know where it comes from. It’s just how I feel”.

The Kitchen is parallel to the cinematic styles that Kaluyya has become associated with. Is dystopian sci-fi the genre he feels best? “Dystopian sci-fi suits my sensibility because usually there’s a lot of dark humour and usually they’re bold enough to cast a Black person as the lead because…it’s fake” he says rolling his eyes. “But I love George Orwell – I love that satire. I love Chris Morris, Charlie Brooker. But I want to do a romcom, or more comedies or just a romance”. As a romcom fan I get a little over excited telling him how much I would love to see him do a romcom. “Make it happen! Tell people! I’m built for a romcom! I want to see incredibly cinematically crafted amazing stories that are innovative and forward thinking about love and about joy. I think that’s one of the main reasons I’m here. We’re in dark times and love is needed way more than anything else.”

After this first taste of directing, and with confident success, I ask him if he can yet identify what his directing style is. “I like bringing people together and helping people communicate. I’m sensitive so I can understand when someone’s off. I’m very trusting in my team – I want them to show me shit I don’t know. Also I like having a laugh. People make their best work when they’re happy.” Smiling at the memory he says “we’d have races, or days like ‘drip monday’”. Despite our similar backgrounds and less than ten years apart, I have to confess I don’t know what ‘drip’ means. Humouring me he plucks the very nice fabric of what he’s worn to the shoot. Almost disappointed, he says “Come on, bro! It’s where everyone came wearing their best clothes” he laughs. “Things like that that bring energy to set.”

I remark on the Rolodex of creatives he must now be able to call on, not that he understands what I mean when I ask if he ever gets ‘stuck’. I push for clarity. Who have been your mentors? “William Stephan Smith (director of his short Two Single Beds) helped me so much. But Ryan” (Coogler, because of course he’s on a first name basis) “he gave me advice that changed the course of this film. I really care about original cinema but I was a bit too extreme at first. Ryan said, look – ‘The Lion King is based on Hamlet.’ I was trying to make a whole new human and not accepting that a human has to have arms, fingers, legs. And knowing that there is biology and physiology to the storytelling and the structure. Only then you can maybe break the rules or put a twist on it.” True to his thespian roots he also bigs up debbie tucker green (playwright and director for Second Coming). “She’s incredible. When I wrote Skins I was 18 and I didn’t know her but she sat me down and the first question she asked was – ‘how are you? This is a lot, you’re 18’. Throughout this whole process she’s always been checking in. Sacha Wares (theatre director) too. I feel like theatre storytellers understand a story in a different context, they don’t have the bells and whistles and I wanted The Kitchen to be as integral as that.”

After this taste of directing of course I ask what’s next? “Whatever. The. Fuck. I. Want” he says with that grin. “I’m not letting my occupation lead me. I’m an artist. I’m a storyteller. Where’s the story? Where do you want me to serve? I want to be multidisciplinary but that’s just being a London creative”. Going back to my question on who’s representing Black London he reminds us both “Michaela Coel, she used to be a poet, Kane – is just Kano! We’re putting non creative archetypes on non creative roles. I don’t know what I’m doing and I think that’s ok. What’s next? Everything is next.”

But what of long term plans for life and love? Given his cautionary tale of the capital can he see himself settling down in London? “Now The Kitchen is done, I’ll be able to process what I want from myself, not just my work. London is one of the most poppin’ cities in the world. Creatively we are doing incredible stuff”. “London would be one of the places” he says when pondering on if this is where he’d raise a family. “But It’s a very different London to where I grew up. It all depends on the lady as well, but yeah”, after a thoughtful pause, “London would be one of the places.”

With the bounce of someone who’s about to take that well-earned holiday abroad, and with what I hope is a promise that he’ll get round to watching Rye Lane (he tells me it’s on his holiday list when I say it’s a fine example of a Black British film), Kaluyya bids me farewell and glides into a nice car which has got to be better than a nap on the tube.