The Circle of Life — Kinds of Kindness
Over the last decade, Yorgos Lanthimos has gone from a celebrated director of Greek films to one of the most revered cinematic auteurs in the world. With his signature combination of intentionally stilted dialogue, darkly comic analogs to the human experience, bonkers depictions of abstract relationship concepts, and refreshingly frank discussions and depictions of sexuality, he’s firmly established himself as an artist who will always bring something interesting and unique into the cultural conversation. I’ve been a fan since The Lobster, and after Poor Things last year, he’s become one of the hottest commodities in the industry.
His newest effort, Kinds of Kindness, delivers yet another intriguing display of all the hallmarks he’s demonstrated over the last several years. Clever, thoughtful, and at times delightfully silly, the movie may be the perfect distillation of his talents and style. That said, it’s definitely not his best work, occasionally languishing in its tepid pace and burying itself a bit in its extended metaphors. But on the whole, it’s still an insightful piece that’s supremely well-acted, once again playing with traditions and conventions to trick the audience into relating to stories that appear patently absurd on the surface.
Presented as a triptych, the film is divided into three segments, all titled after a character known only by the initials R.M.F. (Yorgos Stefanakos), who ultimately has no direct involvement in the proceedings. Instead, he’s more of a mile marker around the real core cast, consisting of Jesse Plemons, Emma Stone, Hong Chau, Margaret Qualley, Mamoudou Athie, Joe Alwyn, and Willem Dafoe. Most of this group are veterans of Lanthimos’ work, with Plemons as the standout “newbie,” delivering three separate performances that earned him Best Actor honors at Cannes earlier this year. In each chapter, the core ensemble plays different characters, with Stone, Plemons, and Dafoe sharing the “lead” responsibilities to one degree or another.
The first extreme “act” of “kindness,” centers on Plemons as a man named Robert. He lives a charmed life, with a great job, expensive home, and loving wife Sarah (Chau). All of this, however, has been arranged down to the most minute detail by his boss Raymond (Dafoe), who controls every aspect of Robert’s existence, including how much he eats, when he and Sarah have sex (but making sure they can’t have children of their own), and his exact drink at a local bar. It’s a well-choreographed exchange of benefits. Robert gets everything he could ever want (including obscure sports memorabilia), and in turn he does whatever Raymond asks of him.
That is, of course, until Raymond asks too much. Robert has been tasked with intentionally crashing his car into one driven by R.M.F., which would potentially kill the latter. Robert is assured that R.M.F. is okay with this arrangement, indeed we see him meet with Raymond’s wife Vivian (Qualley) in the opening scene, taking what appears to be a large envelope (presumably filled with money) as compensation for his life. Still, Robert can’t bring himself to do it, and his relationship with Raymond is severed, leading to the complete dissolution of every comfort he has, until desperation forces his hand.
The second tale sees Plemons as police officer Daniel, mourning the potential loss of his wife Liz (Stone), who is missing at sea after a storm struck her research vessel. He commiserates with his partner Neil (Athie), but he’s clearly losing focus. Things change when Liz returns, injured but safe. At first Daniel is overjoyed, but his glee is quickly sapped when he notices minor differences in Liz, like her feet no longer fitting into her shoes or her eating chocolate despite hating it. Daniel becomes convinced that Liz is an imposter, and as such distances himself and works to expose her by requesting increasingly extreme and dangerous demonstrations of devotion.
Finally, the last installment (“R.M.F. Eats a Sandwich”) goes the craziest, with Stone playing Emily, who along with Andrew (Plemons) is a member of a sex cult led by Dafoe and Chau, where congress is only allowed with the latter pair. Stone left her husband (Alwyn) and young daughter (Merah Benoit) to join this group, where she and Plemons are assigned to find a woman prophesied to be able to revive the dead. There’s a very specific list of criteria to identify this person, and yet almost seemingly by fate, they encounter Ruth (Qualley), who claims her twin sister Rebecca is the one they’re looking for. Plemons is dismissive, but Stone is intensely curious, to the point where she has genuine conflict between her commitment to the cult and her desire to still remain active in her child’s life. Steeped in tragicomic irony, the plot unfolds in baffling ways that playfully reinforce the inevitability of death.
All the tropes that Lanthimos typically employs are on display here, and they’re as expert as ever. For instance, as Daniel frets over the missing Liz in Chapter 2, he has dinner with Neil and Neil’s wife Martha (Qualley), asking if they’d comfort him by watching a video that makes him emotional. I won’t reveal the contents of the video, but it’s exactly the punchline that Lanthimos delivers effortlessly every time. Further, there are some sly bits that end up carrying through all three stories. The biggest example of this is in Plemons, who in the first story is encouraged by Dafoe to eat more, because he’s starting to lose weight. Over the course of the entire film, Plemons’ figure becomes more and more gaunt, including having Daniel refuse food made by Liz, to the point that his clothes barely fit in the third story and he looks downright skeletal.
But the core of the film is in the overarching theme of giving lie to conventional stages of love in our lives. The first story is at its most basic a tale of a child trying to rebel against a micromanaging parent. Raymond schedules every single element of Robert’s life, and when Robert finally says no, he’s put in Timeout until he realizes the error of his ways and comes crawling back to daddy, crying, apologizing, and promising to never act out again. The second chapter is about how adults take their romantic interests for granted, and how complacency and routine can foster abusive behavior in the name of affection. Finally, we reach the end of life, where people again live in controlled environments, but are also fully aware of what they’ve left behind, including family. They’ll also go to great lengths to try to extend their lives and cheat death, even though that’s ultimately impossible. The “kindness” referenced in the title feels more like the force of an authority figure — either seen or not — to make sure we remain aware and accepting of this aspect of our collective life cycle.
The use of a central cast aids this analogy of the continuing loop of existence, and large or small, the entire core group rises to the occasion. Plemons is the standout because he has the largest and most demanding roles, and he gives one of the finest performances of his career to date, but everyone has a moment or two to shine. Stone is her usual brilliant self, Dafoe arguably plays fucked up father figures better here than he did in Poor Things, Qualley is an absolute hoot, Athie is a supporting player in every sense of the word, and Chau is a delight. The only outlier is Alwyn, but that’s mostly because of his three roles, two of them are basically cameos, and his third is disturbingly one-note. He still does well, but if there’s one main player who was truly underserved by the material, it was him.
Well, him and Stefanakos, but for the latter, it’s by design. There aren’t too many flaws in this film, but R.M.F. is arguably the largest one. Once the conceit is established that he’s not an active player, each chapter becomes something of a waiting game to see when his limited involvement will occur so that we can move on. He’s in the first scene of the first chapter, “The Death of R.M.F.,” and as soon as we know who he is, we’re subconsciously counting the minutes until he dies. In Chapter 2, “R.M.F. is Flying,” we’re searching for any moment where this man may be seen flying, in any context (he flies the rescue helicopter that brings Liz to the hospital, you blink and you’ll miss him), and we can miss crucial details of the actual plot. In the last act, we’re all just praying for him to eat a sandwich so we can leave.
This is because, unlike most other Lanthimos projects, the purposefully wooden line readings just don’t flow the way they normally do. It feels like we’re covering the same territory too many times, and the underlying thesis about the rigidness of life is more dense than his usual output. This leads to a few moments that are, well, boring, which is something I never thought I’d say about one of his pictures. It’s not too egregious, but there are several spots that noticeably drag, like Daniel’s prolonged tests of Liz’s identity or her “explanation” to her father (Dafoe) of her life marooned on an island which only serves to set up a joke about dogs.
When it comes right down to it, Kinds of Kindness is another triumph, employing all the tricks of Yorgos Lanthimos’ trade to give audiences yet another unique, ribald, hilarious, and sneakily genius take on the mundanities of existence. It’s led by a fantastic troupe of actors, with Jesse Plemons more than earning his honors at Cannes, and he should not be surprised if he hears his name called by the Academy come January. This is, however, one of his lesser works, getting a bit too into the weeds with the literary devices and dragging out some moments to what feel like interminable slogs at times, not unlike life itself. This isn’t his best film, but honestly, when you’ve put out three certified masterpieces in the span of 10 years, you’re more than allowed to have one that’s just “really good.”
Grade: B
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Originally published at http://actuallypaid.com on July 11, 2024.
