The other night, I went with some friends to watch the new Yorgos Lanthimos film, “The Lobster.” The film takes place in a sort of dystopian future and focuses on the concept of love in very inhumane sort of way. Now, if you haven’t seen the film yet, it’s worth a watch. The acting was superb, the cinematography was gorgeous, and the idea was interesting. Before you read ahead, my review of the film will contain spoilers. So if you plan on seeing the film, be warned.
I have to say that this was one of the most unique movies that I’ve seen in a while. The concept of taking away humane qualities and substituting similar physical attributes with mental commonalities intrigued me. I'm ultimately glad that I was able to make it through the entirety of the film, but I don't know if that's something I'd be able to sit through again. The overwhelming sensation of thriller-esque elements made it tough to not squirm or shield my eyes. After dissecting the tones of the film however, I eventually broke it up into two parts: The hotel and the forest.
The two parts of the movie are divided by the distinction in color temperature. The hotel feels very cool, with a grayer feel and a lack of difference between background and skin tone. This is meant to give off more of an uncomfortable feeling, and make the audience aware of the inhumanity in this dystopian universe. In contrary, the forest is much more warm, with more vibrancy and a greater variety of colors. By adding the contrasting colors, it offers a different feeling than the first half of the film.
Right from the start, I had no idea how to feel. The humor is so beyond dry. When David first finds himself at the hotel, he says he wants to be a lobster because of their long life span and their ability to remain fertile until death. With snippets of comedy subtly mixed in with dark cynicism, the tone is established within the first few minutes of the film
The love aspect of the film is prevalent throughout, but the tone makes you forget that you’re watching a romance; it feels like more of a thriller than anything else. There were a few scenes that made me feel uncomfortable, and I couldn’t distinguish whether or not I wanted to laugh out loud or cry. I think that’s part of the brilliance of the film. When Limping Man first discussed how the love of his life passed away, or when Biscuit Woman threw herself from the balcony of her room, I wanted desperately to comprehend my emotions. I found myself in a state of desperation clouded by the dryness of the dialogue.
The music was very intense and the piano played staccato notes to emphasize the dramatization of the situations. The same music is played throughout the film. The score progresses as the scenes intensify. As opposed to a lot of films where I feel the music clashes with the image, in this film, the image and music definitely complimented each other well.
I realized about half way through the film, after the death of David’s dog, that I was very unclear how the film made me feel. As the movie continued from that point on, I grew less and less sure what emotions the film provoked in me until the last ‘knife-in-the-mirror’ scene of the movie. By the end, I had felt just about everything; I experienced happiness, sadness, confusion, terror and uncertainty.
As a moviegoer, I hope to feel moved—to feel something. As a filmmaker, I attempt to make others feel. Well, in this case, I definitely felt a broad spectrum of feelings—so much so that now, close to a week later, I’m still as conflicted about my feelings toward the film. Although I haven’t been able to decide where I stand in regards to my opinion about "The Lobster," it’s definitely extremely new and unique. I would certainly recommend giving the film a watch if you haven’t already done so.
