Kinds of Kindness

Lanthimos’ absurdist comedy triptych examines the bizarre, ugly aspects of the human condition and our struggle to accept and control our existence - complete with finger-severing, sweat-licking, cringe-worthy laughs.

Not all vignettes are created equally here, as can often be a problem with anthological storytelling, but in true Lanthimos style, each vignette has incredibly stellar moments that stand out – either because of their shocks or the revelations within each one. ‘The Death of R.M.F’ uses tight pacing, incredibly thoughtful camera angles around Plemons, and Plemons as an asset himself, to create a gnawing tension that leads to an urgent questioning of morality at the sacrifice power and success, but the chapter allows only Plemons’ character any real agency…or maybe that is some sort of meta context given the story? In any case, the brevity of the chapter also leaves a great deal unexplored, feeling a tad rushed. ‘R.M.F Is Flying’ is perhaps the most outlandish – and interesting – of the three, with a massive amount of blood, probable body imposters, and a wild segment about dogs all adding up to an examination of the price of loyalty and unconditional love, even questioning if such a thing exists. Again, the brevity of the chapter eats away at intense camera work and squirm-inducing body horror, awkward laughs, and intense chemistry between Plemons and Stone as their relationship frays like an old rope, finally giving way to the strain of romantic fantasy over reality. Finally, ‘R.M.F Eats A Sandwich’ establishes perhaps the most complex character background for any character in the film (Stone’s Emily), but does not give all the connective tissue as to how Emily finds herself doing the work of a cult after abandoning a husband and daughter, all while showing us the strange and quirky search for a woman who may be able to actually raise the dead with a touch. Stone is both shrewd and tender in equal measure in the last chapter – proving her two Oscars are not a fluke – but again, we are left wanting more from the story offered.

Frustration and admiration are sure to be felt hand-in-hand here by audiences; if you loathe Lanthimos’ previous work, Kindness will not win you over by any means. Die-hard Lanthimos lovers will most likely enjoy it, but most will find varying mileage based on the format and the depth presented in the overall story. Lanthimos leaves much of the stories here open-ended enough that fifty people in the same room seeing the film would come away with fifty different understandings of the meaning or intention of each chapter. Their are uncomfortable laughs to be had and cathartic exchanges aplenty amongst the deadpan lunacy and strange happenings, and Lanthimos is more than happy to allow audiences to fill the spaces between them all with their own ideas and emotions. Personally, an intriguing examination of Christianity – specifically elements of ‘The Father, The Son, and The Holy Spirit’ – appeared as respective juxtapositions to human love in each of the chapters that made for some intense introspection…alongside all the madness.

The film does run too long, and while there is so much talent and skill present here, the lack of a cohesive through line for the chapters leaves elements of the chapters feeling truncated and rushed – even as each section is at least forty-five minutes long. The cast is the biggest strength here, as each member commits, attacking and pushing every crazy, wild, dangerous, gross, beautiful choice to a limit that only Lanthimos could come up with for a film; you come for the ‘directed by’ credit, but its the acting troupe that sells what is on offer. Perhaps not Lanthimos’ best work – certainly not his most accessible – but with a very game cast playing with these truly bizarre ideas, one is bound to feel challenged, amused, and disgusted. That is the Lanthimos guarantee.