Emma Stone has now officially hitched her star to Yorgos Lanthimos. This seems a good move. As long as Stone isn’t bothered by nudity or sex on camera, her Oscar representation should continue indefinitely. But this trilogy ain’t about Stone so much as Jesse Plemons, who has embraced the cringe-world of Yorgos with a flair.
Yorgos films are all essentially about control – who’s got it and what, often illegal, methods they wield to maintain it. Kinds of Kindness is about three tales of control. All of them are off-putting, but you knew that. Yorgos Lanthimos doesn’t make films embraced by Disney. Kinds of Kindness is sort of a disturbing Cloud Atlas, where a team of actors (Plemons, Stone, Hong Chau, Willem Dafoe, Margaret Qualley, Joe Alwyn, and Mamoudou Athie) each assume different roles in a trilogy. It should be noted that group sex only appears in one of the vignettes, but you never get off that easy in a Yorgos film.
And, yes, I meant to say exactly that.
The Death of R.M.F.
Robert (Plemons) is a seemingly successful married man whose every last detail of life is dictated by his boss and lover, Raymond (Dafoe). These include details like: “you will read Anna Karenina for 30 minutes and then go to sleep”, “you will have pasta for dinner”, and “you will not have intercourse with your wife tonight.” Robert doesn’t question when Raymond asks him to have an automobile collision with a specific vehicle/driver. However, when the result proves “unsuccessful,” Robert does indeed question Raymond’s desire to repeat the event, but more deadly this time.
R.M.F. Is Flying
Daniel (Plemons) is a police officer despondent after his wife Liz (Stone) is listed among those missing from a research expedition. In one of the most hilarious moments of the movie season, Daniel invites a couple (Athie and Qualley) to dinner and the depressed host suggests they all enjoy a video (presumably of Liz) together. At first, the friends refuse, but eventually give in when Daniel starts crying. The video is of the four of them having sex together. Plot happens when Liz returns, but is it really Liz?
R.M.F. Eats a Sandwich
Emily (Stone) and Andrew (Plemons) are NOT a romantic couple, but instead a traveling one who seek to locate a
necromancer meeting certain preconditions. (I dunno about you, but if you can successfully locate somebody who can raise the dead, I can’t believe you’d be too particular). Turns out, these two are in a cult where members are tested for sexual purity by Hong Chau licking them. I’m not making any of that up. Meanwhile, cult leader Dafoe (presumably) has sex with all the cult members testing positive for purity. And then he walks around in speedos. For a trilogy of films that all have elements of horror, extended scenes of Defoe in speedos is the worst of it. Turns out Emily has an estranged husband and daughter. And all of these elements are going to come together in way that makes sense to no one.
I will give it up for Yorgos’ continued ability to grab my attention. While I rarely understood what was going on entirely, I wanted to. Tis the sign of a quality filmmaker. OTOH, all three of these tales are not only disturbing; they’re ultimately empty, such is exacerbated by the fact that every player in the film takes on different roles for each part of the trilogy. To me, this is essentially saying, “forget what you just saw, THIS is the real tale.” In the end, none of it is real; it’s just talented actors playing odd characters. It’s good enough to hold my attention for nearly three hours -which should be discounted- but there’s nothing here that is going to feature on an obit.
There once was an actress named Emma
She was better than the rest of them-ma
Yet her championed director
Was a bizarre script selector
Giving her a most exquisite dilemma
Rated R, 164 Minutes
Director: Yorgos Lanthimos
Writer: Yorgos Lanthimos, Efthimis Filippou
Genre: Films you scare children with
Type of being most likely to enjoy this film: Yorgos homies
Type of being least likely to enjoy this film: There’s A LOT of Jesse Plemons in this film. If you’re not a fan, this ain’t gonna help
