The Lobster is a dark comedy film directed by Greek filmmaker Yorgos Lanthimos (Dogtooth) and starring Colin Farrell, Rachel Weisz, John C. Reilly, Lea Seydoux, Jessica Barden, Angeliki Papoulia, Olivia Colman, and Ben Whishaw. It follows a man named David (Farrell) in a dystopian future where older single people are taken to The Hotel where they must find a lover in 45 days or be turned into an animal of their choice and released into The Woods. David, upon his wife leaving him for another man, checks in at The Hotel on his quest to find love where he meets a large ensemble of bizarre unnamed hotel patrons, choosing to become a lobster should he fail to find a lover. All the while, the hotel patrons are prohibited from masturbating (but required to be sexually stimulated by a hotel maid to keep their drive up) and are shown propaganda giving examples of the benefits of monogamous relationships, such as not having to die alone and being less susceptible to sexual assault from strangers. All of this, if you haven't figured out, is an allegory for modern society's treatment of romantic relationships. And I think it's brilliant.
The Lobster has been getting a lot of goodwill on the indie circuit since its wide release this spring, and I think it's well deserved. This is sort of 2016's Her, in that it's a very subtle sci-fi drama with some dark humor elements that examines society's treatment of love and relationships. Photographed beautifully by Thimios Bakatakis, the film is painted in dull grays and whites, and every character is monotone, emotionless, uninterested, and speaks of even things that they purport give them unspeakable anguish with a measured, rational tone and diction completely devoid of pathos (their personalities also interestingly and cleverly match with their animal of choice).
This is perfect for the film's absurdist strip-down of modern single life - love is reduced to requisite, mandatory, and controllable, and people are reduced to beings of sex, procreation, and pursuit toward monogamy, as if they exist for nothing else. Personal interests and personality traits exist solely to attract and use as fodder in the search for a mate. Friendships exist solely to complement romance. Children exist solely to validate long-term commitment. And if one is unable to find romantic love, they're cast out as animals, living as creatures without meaningful lives or direction, capable only of fulfilling base carnal desires.
It's some depressing stuff, and the film is relentless. The clever visual and narrative metaphors between the operations of The Hotel and the anti-romance rogues of The Woods and the general attitudes of modern society toward relationships and love, especially for singles in their thirties and forties, are plentiful, non-stop, and always intelligent, striking, and usually pretty devastatingly funny. The film's script is endlessly creative, and for a movie populated with monotone characters devoid of emotion, has quite a bit of personality. This is mostly thanks to Lanthimos's effective use of violence and dark humor.
But this is not regular dark humor - The Lobster's dark humor is pitch black, to the point that many of the film's greatest examples of irony and allegory expel not just uncomfortable laughs of disbelief from the audience, but also shivers at the incredibly striking brutality and coldness of the world our characters live in that, ironically, in the pursuit of getting everyone to fall in love, has seemed to completely remove empathy or heart. Suicide, nihilism, animal abuse, domestic violence, physical disabilities, and the darkest tendencies of the human heart in long-term commitment are the most memorable and effective deliverers of the film's laughs and gasps.
Like any good work of absurdist fiction, though, The Lobster doesn't only demonize and ridicule the "you must marry" aspects of society. The loner life gets an ample ribbing especially in the film's second act, often being shown to be just as callous, selfish, and disregarding for human life as society's fervent insistence on monogamy. You might think that the film then makes the conclusion that one should just do what one feels is correct in love, but even that gets its share of criticism for lack of definitive purpose. Ultimately, this is an absurdist/nihilist/agnostic's wet dream. Which may have something to do with why I love it.
I've spent most of this review speaking about the screenplay, because I think without a doubt that is where the vast majority of the movie's strengths lie. But in terms of direction, cinematography, performances, and music (the soundtrack is filled with eerie, loud, and often unsettling classical pieces), the movie is a great example of extremely solid allegorical/satirical sci-fi filmmaking as well. Farrell, Reilly, Weisz, Seydoux, and Colman give the standout performances, and the film exudes odd beauty from its often strikingly disturbing images and subject matter.
Overall, The Lobster is a just-about-perfect work of social satire and incredibly witty science fiction whose brilliant screenplay, Lanthimos's sure-handed direction, and the cast's many wonderful performances make for a great absurdist and slightly nihilist breakdown of societal tendencies regarding love, sex, and relationships. I don't know if I could recommend it to everyone - it's not quite as sweet or silly as Her, and often actively tries to be off-putting and disturbing in tandem with its narrative ambitions. So, if being kind of depressed and disheartened with human nature for two hours doesn't sound like something you'd like to try out, it may not be for you. But if smartly crafted satire and incredibly dark humor interest you, The Lobster delivers in spades.
Grade: A
Like any good work of absurdist fiction, though, The Lobster doesn't only demonize and ridicule the "you must marry" aspects of society. The loner life gets an ample ribbing especially in the film's second act, often being shown to be just as callous, selfish, and disregarding for human life as society's fervent insistence on monogamy. You might think that the film then makes the conclusion that one should just do what one feels is correct in love, but even that gets its share of criticism for lack of definitive purpose. Ultimately, this is an absurdist/nihilist/agnostic's wet dream. Which may have something to do with why I love it.
I've spent most of this review speaking about the screenplay, because I think without a doubt that is where the vast majority of the movie's strengths lie. But in terms of direction, cinematography, performances, and music (the soundtrack is filled with eerie, loud, and often unsettling classical pieces), the movie is a great example of extremely solid allegorical/satirical sci-fi filmmaking as well. Farrell, Reilly, Weisz, Seydoux, and Colman give the standout performances, and the film exudes odd beauty from its often strikingly disturbing images and subject matter.
Overall, The Lobster is a just-about-perfect work of social satire and incredibly witty science fiction whose brilliant screenplay, Lanthimos's sure-handed direction, and the cast's many wonderful performances make for a great absurdist and slightly nihilist breakdown of societal tendencies regarding love, sex, and relationships. I don't know if I could recommend it to everyone - it's not quite as sweet or silly as Her, and often actively tries to be off-putting and disturbing in tandem with its narrative ambitions. So, if being kind of depressed and disheartened with human nature for two hours doesn't sound like something you'd like to try out, it may not be for you. But if smartly crafted satire and incredibly dark humor interest you, The Lobster delivers in spades.
Grade: A
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