Review of The Lobster (2015) by Lilian L — 14 Jun 2016

Weird and wonderful, "The Lobster" will be one of the most memorable films of 2016. Director Yorgos Lanthimos (previously best known for "Dogtooth") has a chilly, misanthropic view of the world that is both annoying and unsettling -- luckily, he leans toward the latter tone this time.

The evolving details of the plot are incredible, and their shock shouldn't be spoiled. Let's just say this: "The Lobster" is about an alternate Orwellian present where people are forced to have a romantic partner. Emotional connection isn't essential. What's most important is that couples share some superficial, mundane trait like, say, a scarred knee or a chronic cough (I'm intentionally picking examples that aren't in the script). Anyone left unpaired is transported to an isolated hotel with other singles, where they are given 45 days to find a viable mate or -- you probably saw this coming? -- they're condemned to finish their remaining lives as the animal of their choice (for instance, a lobster). Sure, why not? The technology used to achieve this transformation is not well-explained, but doesn't need to be in this sort of dry parable.

These miserable characters are resigned to a loveless existence, but they're so desperate to go on living as humans that they'll fake compatibility with anyone convenient. Oh, and one more wrinkle: They spend their days at this picturesque prison (in reality, a resort in Ireland?) with a tranquilizer gun, hunting the nearby woods for outlaw "loners" who don't follow the society's coupling rules. The more loners they bag, the more their 45-day time limit is extended.

Call it a "date movie," if you like. Somehow, prominent actors like Colin Farrell, John C. Reilly and Rachel Weisz were convinced to join this boldly uncommercial, unglamorous project. And Farrell seemingly gained about 25 pounds for the role, in order to have the proper sad-sack physique. None of his usual tattooed, bad-boy charm is visible -- he's more like Cheap Trick's Bun E. Carlos, minus the cigarette.

Dark, absurdist humor rules the day -- there's scarcely a smile in the entire 118 minutes. The ambience feels like some '70s art film from behind the Iron Curtain, but who's complaining? The story's dour second half is a faint disappointment, but the script does a masterful job of gradually answering our questions about this strange world's mysterious protocol. And the musical score's nagging, three-note motif becomes more and more amusing with repetition.