With Kinds of Kindness, mild-mannered Greek enfant terrible Yorgos Lanthimos has finally returned home to his long-time writing partner Efthimis Filippou (Dogtooth, The Lobster, The Killing of a Sacred Deer) after an extended vacation with screenwriter Tony McNamara (The Favourite, Poor Things).
Or perhaps this is the vacation. With a bigger budget and more eyes on him after those mainstream successes, Kinds of Kindness carries with it a bigger question mark than any Lanthimos joint that’s come before. What surprises therefore is just how laid back and loose this anarchic triptych is when compared to this original duo’s previous collaborations.
Here we have a fable in three, its title enigmatically instructive as to what is contained within, eyebrows raised and tongue firmly in cheek of course. This is an exploration of devotion without limits and where that leaves us as individuals.
As a self-contained beast, the first segment is a delicious slice of Lanthimos at his darkest and most enjoyably familiar. Jesse Plemons is Robert Fletcher, a man whose every life decision is preordained by his boss, Raymond (Willem Dafoe). His home, his wife (Hong Chau), his lack of children, his reading material, it’s all as decided by Raymond. But one request too far pushes Fletcher to reject Raymond’s mentorship, leaving him adrift and lost without the patterns, praise and comforts he’d become accustomed to.
Plemons thrives in Yorgos’ trappings. With a versatile furrowed brow, he’s softer and less tense than Colin Farrell’s male Lanthimos leads, such that it’s more startling when he inevitably snaps. He’s at the forefront of two out of the three stories, and his energy fleshes out Lanthimos’ worlds with a richer texture.
Kinds of Kindness is rockstar cinema, the work of a filmmaker who knows he now has the reigns to go wild, to see what the process of artistic invention can tease out and uncover.
Lanthimos regulars are of here too, of course, and it’s evident from the film’s form as to why. Kinds of Kindness is the product of a creative polycule in every sense, the cast handed roles with which they can experiment, flail about, laugh, cry, fuck, get angry, bitter, twisted. Emma Stone described the cast’s working relationship in a post-screening Q&A as an ‘theatre company’ and this notion is key to unlocking what Kinds of Kindness is – a sandbox for dramatic discovery and play.
As the cast shake themselves out and widen the improv circle, the film shifts curiously. Each subsequent segment isn’t as tight as the one that preceded it, Lanthimos taking ideas and running with them with increasing lack of clear definition or reason. It’s occasionally lacklustre and frustrating, but nevertheless oddly intoxicating. Precisely-scripted as it is, in its delivery the film feels an improvisational game of ‘yes, and’, the performers running with any and every idea and building off their portrayals, motifs, and themes from their previous segments in doing so. The episodes were shot in sequence, and it’s fascinatingly evident to observe in performance.
In its explorations of sexuality, one of Lanthimos’ favourite subjects to pervert, Kinds of Kindness unfortunately feels a little off in several respects. ‘Sex’ here feels like an abstract concept or punchline rather than something these characters do that relates and connects to who they are and their relationships to each other. There are some great gross-out sight gags to be had here, but their execution dilutes the believability of these pivotal interpersonal relations. Whilst other actions have stakes, sex is treated with a strangely juvenile off-handedness, bluntly, yet strangely euphemistically. This issue feels very much a carry-over from Poor Things and it’s something that I hope Lanthimos manages to ground better in future films. There was a tangible tension and yearning to the central pairing in The Lobster for example that you’ll barely find a trace of here.
The other issue is how Kinds of Kindness finds absurdity in the idea of homosexual pairings. The film treats male-male romantic potentiality with an uncomfortable amusement, as if it’s something that conceptually should trigger the uneasy discomfort that Lanthimos’ films paint in. Whilst the thorny particulars of the first act enable the benefit of the doubt, the second segment opens with a moment that feels at least two decades out of date.
Kinds of Kindness is rockstar cinema, the work of a filmmaker who knows he now has the reigns to go wild, to see what the process of artistic invention can tease out and uncover. Whilst its first act is undoubtedly the most polished, it’s rote Lanthimos. What follows outstays its welcome by the time the credits hit, but witnessing this artist loosen his grip and push the boat out into messier, more exploratory waters is a heartening development. I feel like being kind to it.
Kinds of Kindness (2024) is out now in Cinemas Nationwide
