By Martin I. Petrov
‘Put your headphones on and wait for my sign. We need to press play at the same moment to be synchronised and dance.’ Two loners, each holding their own music player surrender to the melancholic sound only they can hear among the trees in a silent forest. Only a split second is enough for one to venture into Yiorgos Lanthimos’ nostalgic ode to solitude.
The loners, this is how we call them. Ordinary singles, in the not so distant future, are leaving the urban society for a resort where they are entitled to finding a partner in 45 days, otherwise they are being transformed in an animal of their choice. We meet the loners through the eyes of a recently separated mid-aged man (Colin Farrell), who checks-in with his dog brother, former guest of the hotel who didn't succeed in finding a match.
The Lobster is a powerful, masterfully detailed piece of cinematography, where the Greek director knits again a spectacular universe, assigned to his personal style as seen before in Kineta, Dogtooth and Alps. We embark on a trip to a geometrically structured utopia, where everything is so natural and simultaneously so outlandish. The loners are disconnected from any outdoor influence, given clothes and amenities and named by their hotel’s room numbers.
Every day a voice announces the days remaining before transformation and then routine activities fill the rest of the day. Singles eat alone, exercise alone and most importantly have to hunt in the evening. The more loners you catch, the more your stay is extended. The newcomer finds last hope in the face of a heartless woman (Angeliki Papoulia), who happens to be the best hunter. But as things evolve in their staged relationship, the loner is forced to escape the hotel and run into the forest, where he joins a secret community of loner escapees, led by a young unscrupulous woman (Lea Seydoux).
In his fourth film, Lanthimos empowers the female presence - the hotel manager, the cold-hearted woman and the group leader - they are all granted an authoritarian, even dictatorial positions eliminating the male presence and becoming rule-setters.
The Lobster is essentially a film about love and affection. It is not of great importance if affection is a greater form of love, a sub-part of it or the other way around. All characters share the same advantage, that is at the same time their ultimate weakness. They are enjoying solitude and are given the chance to redesign their life in a limited time frame. But ultimately, do they need companionship? Is this a burden or a salvation?
When the loner joins the secret community in the forest, he is challenged again. As opposed to the resort, he is now required to restrain from any contact with other loners, for the sake of remaining single forever. After meeting one of the female members of the community (Rachel Weisz), their occasional visits to the town as a couple generate emotions that were for both deeply suppressed and forgotten.
The Lobster is perhaps the most moving film the Greek director has made so far. Recreationally original, the characters are mirrors of each one of us, Orwellian in their core but yet so functionally engaging. Combined with captivating landscapes from the Irish countryside and an excitatory sound mixed with melancholic greek classics they make Lanthimos’ imaginary dystopia so disturbingly inviting.