AFI Fest '15 Review: "The Lobster"

Director: Yorgos Lanthimos
Runtime: 118 minutes

Without any notable visual flourishes, The Lobster does what so many films set in the near (or far) future fail to do even with massive budgets: create an instantly convincing, wholly immersive world. Greek director Yorgos Lanthimos (Dogtooth), making his English language debut, has outdone himself with his break from his homeland and native tongue. Absurd, strange, blackly funny, and even oddly touching, The Lobster will most certainly be an acquired taste. Those who can get on Lanthimos' wavelength, however, are in for one hell of a treat as the film makes the rounds at festivals ahead of its currently TBD American release next year.

The end of a relationship, especially one that lasts for more than a decade, is always painful. But there isn't much time to wallow in newfound loneliness in the world of The Lobster, as we quickly learn from following newly single David (Colin Farrell, heavily de-glammed). In accordance with current government laws (setting is undefined, though signs point to French Canadian territory), David is carted off to a sleek countryside resort, where he will be given 45 days to find a new mate. If he fails, he will be turned into an animal, albeit one of his choosing (in David's case: the film's titular crustacean). 

Unfolding with a level of deadpan that would make Wes Anderson envious, The Lobster's chief strength, among many, is how maintains its tricky tone over the course of two taut hours. From a pacing standpoint, this is easily the most polished of Lanthimos' films, which prevents one from falling out of touch with the uncompromising idiosyncrasies. The Lobster's second half breaks the narrative out of a delightfully repetitive cycle, yet manages to maintain and build upon the successes of the beginning. Just when you think that Lanthimos is getting too lost in his own vision, Yorgos Mavropsaridis' editing keeps things moving with laser-cutter precision, all without disrupting the deliberate flow of the story. All other technical aspects are similarly excellent, especially the green and beige-hued photography of Thimios Bakatakis and the discordant soundtrack that mixes pop songs with jolting string pieces.

Lanthimos reigns all of this in beautifully from the director's chair, with plenty of crisply-assembled passages composed of stealthily compelling shots with little or no camera movement. For as much time as the film spends at the singles' resort/internment camp, Lanthimos always finds new visual alleys to drag one further down the rabbit hole. Even the most mundane hotel hallway comes loaded with bizarro uncertainty in the world of The Lobster, which prides itself on subverting the ordinary by underlining it with hints of ludicrous, yet somehow plausible, extremism. In Woody Allen's Crimes & Misdemeanors, Alan Alda's character quoted Larry Gelbart's, "if it bends, it's funny; if it breaks it's not funny" remark, and that manifesto is certainly true here. Lanthimos bends The Lobster to its absolute further, keeping it on the precipice of breaking without ever going too far.

Yet for all of The Lobster's understated work in the arts/tech departments, Lanthimos' script ultimately holds the key to the aforementioned control of tone. The Lobster could have easily become a one-note joke, but Lanthimos and co-writer Efthymis Filippou dole out the bizarro details of the film's setting in carefully constructed vignettes that gradually coalesce into a spectacular whole. Some are strange, some are disturbing, and some are gut-bustingly funny in their deliberate emotional vacancy. Few scenes capture the whole of The Lobster quite like the one wherein the hotel manager (a pitch-perfect Olivia Colman) and her husband try to serenade the horde of single folk with listless performances of romantic songs and robotic dance moves. 

And as much as I lit up every time Colman appeared, the rest of the cast are all a treat to watch as well. Farrell continues to excel when given darker, off beat material, and while 'David' doesn't allow him the range of In Bruges, it demonstrates his skill as a versatile actor who should never have been propped up as a traditional leading man. Other hotel residents are marvelously filled out by the likes of Ben Whishaw, John C. Reilly, Extras's Ashley Jensen, and frequent Lanthimos collaborator Angeliki Papoulia (as an ice cold "hunter" who delivers the film's darkest joke). Later arrivals like Lea Seydoux and Rachel Weisz (the latter of whom narrates the film throughout) are welcome presences as well. 

However, these characters are ultimately pawns in Lanthimos' oddball experiment. In some ways, he's taking a page from the Coen brothers, playing a narrative god with a merciless combination of dark humor and irony. But even when the ambiguous ending arrives (he's a fan of those), Lanthimos refuses to let his detachment from his characters slip into cruelty. The characters may do horrible things (or have horrible reactions), but in the film's later stages Lanthimos subtly shifts into empathy without puncturing the carefully crafted tone and losing all thematic control. Like another film set to play at AFI Fest (Todd Haynes' Carol), The Lobster possesses an unwavering dedication to a strict code of tone and atmosphere that will strike many as redundant and exhausting. Yet for others, the relentless unwillingness to make major changes will become its main selling point, highlighting, for better or for worse, the purposeful vision at the helm. 

Grade: A

Review: "Carnage" (2011)

The final shot of Roman Polanski's Carnage, an adaptation of Yasmina Reza's acclaimed play "God of Carnage," doesn't feature anything wrong in and of itself. The composition, framing, lighting, etc... are all perfectly fine, crisply and cleanly captured by cinematographer Pawel Edelman. Yet when one takes into account everything that came before it, along with its supposed meaning, this final shot is a head-bangingly obvious piece of symbolism that does nothing but add an abrupt end to a fast-moving but ultimately tepid piece of satire and social commentary.

Opening with a shot of a park (one of only two exteriors in the whole film), we witness one boy (Zachary) strike another boy (Ethan) with a large stick. Next thing we know, we're in a Manhattan apartment with the parents of the aggressor (Kate Winslet's Nancy and Christoph Waltz's Alan) and the victim (Jodie Foster's Penelope and John C. Reilly's Michael). What starts as a simple conversation among the four of them to come to terms with the bit of violence between their children quickly devolves into a savage verbal battle.

Yet the problem, which registers fairly early on, is simply that Reza's target - middle class hypocrisy and self-righteousness - feels easy, and as a writer she hasn't said anything truly entertaining, interesting, or insightful. Add to the mix that characters switch sides so frequently that no one feels like they have any structure to them. Though the characters have some distinct traits, they ultimately all feel like limply-constructed mouthpieces for the author. There's no depth to any of the four characters, and it only becomes more apparent the more the script drags out the encounter between the two couples. There are any number of opportunities for Nancy and Alan to leave Penelope and Michael's apartment, but through contrivance after contrivance, they keep going back in the door for more punishment (for themselves, the other couple, and the audience).

It's a shame too, because Polanski's cast is trying their hardest. A pity, then, that they're saddled with such lackluster material. Occasionally their talents overcome the script's deficiencies - Winslet's drunken anger is fun to watch, along with Foster's holier-than-thou attitude and Waltz's general disinterest - but even the film's best lines barely register. Polanski's direction is straightforward and efficient, never getting in the way of his talented cast. Unfortunately, there's not much he, or anyone else can do to overcome the weaknesses of the source material, and therefore the screenplay. Thankfully the actors have plenty of energy, so the film never drags. At the same time, the only reason the pace is a strength is that it makes the film feel like a swift piece of mediocre film making rather than a tortuously drawn-out affair. It's all so surface-oriented, so forced, and so artificial, that even the third act theatrics fail to bring a much-needed spark to the scenes. Throughout the entire ordeal, Waltz's Alan displays a constant attitude of disinterest, remarking at one point that the whole conversation is pointless. As it turns out, he's right, and the result is that the film as a whole feels pointless as well.

Grade: C

Review: "We Need to Talk About Kevin" (2011)

As has previously been pointed out elsewhere, if 2010 was a year in film remembered for its words, then 2011 will be remembered for its lack of words. From The Tree of Life to Melancholia to The Artist, films this year have made their mark while being quite the opposite of verbose. The latest from last year to join the ranks of the above-mentioned is Lynne Ramsay's We Need to Talk About Kevin, a loose adaptation of Lionel Schriver's novel of the same name. Revolving around a mother dealing with the horrific aftermath of tragedy, Ramsay's film is filled to the brim with style, from its red-flooded visuals to its sound design. Yet even though it has some effective stretches and strong acting, Ramsay's film doesn't quite measure up to its ambitions, and could, in all honesty, use a bit more talking (about Kevin).

As it charts the before and after of the tragedy at the core of the story, Ramsay's film plays fast and loose with the timeline of events. The first half hour in particular is jumpy and vague, richly captured by Seamus McGarvey's cinematography. So even though Swinton carries the look of an exhausted, drained woman with great skill, the first portions of the film don't seem to really challenge the actress. It's not simply that Swinton is making the whole affair look easy. The film simply doesn't give her much to work with other than stoic gazes. Things improve for the actress considerably as the film progresses, but because Ramsay and co-writer Rory Kinnear leave the beginning so verbally sparse, it's hard to get to know Swinton's Eva.

Which is more than a shame, because like Young Adult's Charlize Theron, Swinton is clearly giving the role everything she's got. The problem is that Ramsay and Kinnear aren't quite pulling their weight. As fascinating as Swinton is to look at, she's infinitely more compelling when given a role that allows her to do more than stare. And by jumping around so much in time so early on, Kevin feels a little too fractured for its own good. The film's central question revolves around the old nature vs. nurture debate in regards to the titular Kevin (played as a teen by Ezra Miller). And when the film settles into the more linear middle and end stretches, it actually achieves a sense of menace and tension. Ramsay's style, which emphasizes just about every possible sound in a given room, does an effective, if at times over the top job of planting us in Eva's head. The presence of red is effective as well, though it too has moments where it feels overdone. Still, these aspects, in conjunction with Swinton's committed turn, do build to an effective series of conclusions (though the absolute end feels cut short and frustratingly indecisive).

This makes Kevin a film that alternates between stretches of frustration and stretches of eerie, magnetic power. When the big moment (or rather, moments) arrive, it's hard not to be chilled to the core, even if you can guess them long before they occur (a look at the film's IMDB synopsis will tell you the film's most important event). Yet even the effective moments can prove frustrating in hindsight, because it becomes apparent that Ramsay could have made them hit harder and with greater authenticity had she simply toned down the stylistic flourishes. Some of the most interesting parts of the film come from Swinton and Miller's interactions, but they feel too brief, when they should be (of all of the "stages" of Kevin) among the most important.

And it's at this point that I, regrettably, have to draw a comparison to Swinton's last cinematic outing: Luca Guadagnino's I am Love (2010). Like Ramsay's film, Love put Swinton front and center, yet also held the puzzling desire to suffocate her work in execution that oscillated from brilliant to overwrought. Thankfully, Ramsay's style isn't nearly as overbearing, so Swinton does get more room to shine. The flip side of the coin, however, is that those moments for her to shine don't always feel as compelling. I am Love was easily the more flawed of the two films, yet its best moments afforded Swinton with better moments as well.

Grade: B

Venice Review Round-Up: "Carnage"

Though it is among my most anticipated for the rest of year, I'm still on the fence about Roman Polanski's Carnage. Adapted from Yasmina Reza's Tony-winning play, the director's latest features an excellent cast (Waltz, Foster, Winslet, Reilly) in a situation that seems rife with possibility for juicy drama and dark comedy. The only problem is that all released info and footage so far has done little to calm my fears about one key aspect: the source material. As I'll probably end up saying every time I discuss Carnage, I was no fan of the stage show, which felt like it thought it was smarter, funnier, and more insightful than it actually was. I was counting on Polanski and his excellent cast to find something in the material that would make it work better. Judging from the first few reviews, I'm still stuck on the damn fence:

InContention - Guy Lodge (2.5/4 stars): "...the film....doesn't give [the subject matter] much resonance beyond the universal fun factor of milquetoasts behaving badly." "Foster is given the play's most garlanded role, and enjoys herself most when the character at last self-immolates." "The men, perhaps surprisingly, fare better."

The Guardian - Xan Brooks (4/5 stars): "...a pitch black farce of unbearable tension." "[Polanski's] direction is precise, unfussy, and utterly fit for purpose..." "It does turn a shade too shrill...in the final stretch..."

IndieWire - Oliver Lyttelton (C+): "...it's pleasurable enough, although anyone hoping for a return to 1970s form for Polanski will be disappointed..." "For this writer, it's Jodie Foster who was the highlight." "...at best Reza's material is targeting some fairly low-hanging fruit (upper-middle class hypocrisy, in the main) without adding much to the discussion..."

The Hollywood Reporter - Todd McCarthy (N/A): "Snappy, nasty, deftly acted...Carnage fully delivers the laughs and savagery of the stage piece..." "Polanski too often abandons group compositions in favor of close-ups..."

Variety - Justin Chang (N/A): "...never shakes off a mannered, hermetic feel that consistently betrays [the film's] theatrical origins."


Venice Verdict: Though it has moments that work, Polanski's adaptation of Yasmina Reza's play is a minor, and flawed, pleasure. Jodie Foster and Christoph Waltz emerge on top, even though the film around them fails to say much that hasn't been said before.

Trailer: "Carnage"

Confession time: I really wasn't a big fan of Yasmina Reza's God of Carnage, a play that that earned raves on Broadway and won Tony Awards for Best Play, Best Actress (Marcia Gay Harden) and Best Actor (James Gandolfini). It's essentially a bottle story, where two couples try and sort out a fight that happened between their children on a playground. The premise is rife with possibilities for explosive drama and comedy, but Reza's script (originally in French) always felt like it lost something in translation. I laughed at the production I saw (which had the second run of cast members, including Christine Lahti and Jimmy Smitts), but I always felt like I was straining. Some exchanges and quips were funny, but they also came off as hollow and unsatisfying. Throw in that ridiculous vomit gag, and I wasn't exactly impressed.

And even though I have hope that Roman Polanski and his amazing cast will be able to create a more satisfying end result, the trailer hasn't boosted my hopes much. Foster, Waltz, and Winslet seem like they're trying their hardest, while poor John C. Reilly is stuck with the story's weakest role. All that Polanski has done, if this trailer is any indication, is give us exactly the same product but with close-ups and more detailed sets. Whatever mix of intensity and pitch-black comedy the footage is trying to get across isn't really coming through. Instead, this looks all too much like the play: an attempt to subvert middle class personalities that isn't nearly as smart or incisive as it wants us to believe.

Trailer: "We Need to Talk About Kevin"

We Need to Talk About Kevin Bande-annonce by toutlecine

One of my most anticipated of the year, if for its leading lady alone, is Lynne Ramsay's We Need to Talk About Kevin, based on Lionel Shriver's novel of the same name. While the subject matter may be, er, unpleasant (troubled kid goes on Columbine-esque rampage), the cast's credentials are certainly a draw. The film also picked up very strong reviews at Cannes, and the film's US release of December 2nd (limited) indicates that its distributors plan on pushing this one for the Oscar race. Swinton has yet to receive a second nomination since her first, for which she won, in 2007. She's been passed up completely for two recent acclaimed performances (Julia and I am Love), but this could be her chance to return to the Oscars as a nominee, which feels long overdue, considering the excellent work she's done both before and after her surprise Oscar triumph 4 years ago.