Tagged Olivia Colman

The Lobster: A Terrifying Vision of Lovers in a Dangerous Time

The Lobster. 2015. Directed by Yorgos Lanthimos. Screenplay by Efthymis Filippou & Lanthimos.
Starring Jessica Barden, Olivia Colman, Colin Farrell, Rosanna Hoult, Ashley Jensen, Ariane Labed, Ewen MacIntosh, Imelda Nagle Ryan, Angeliki Papoulia, John C. Reilly, Léa Seydoux, Michael Smiley, Rachel Weisz, & Ben Whishaw. Film4/Irish Film Board/Eurimages.
Rated 14A. 118 minutes.
Drama/Romance/Sci-Fi

★★★★★
POSTER
Yorgos Lanthimos is one of those writer-directors I wouldn’t consider palatable to everyone. Of course he has his fan base, after people discovered his uniquely odd stories and compelling way of directing them onscreen. But still, even with a movie featuring performances from big names such as Colin Farrell and Rachel Weisz, among others such as great character actors like John C. Reilly and the equally wonderful Michael Smiley, The Lobster both defies universal appeal and also fully concrete explanation. It isn’t one of those arthouse films that is completely unable to find explanation. Rather, Lanthimos has a definitive idea of what the story is, what it means, its implications. Yet it will not be everyone’s cup of tea.
If you’ve ever seen anything by Lanthimos, you’ll know his style is abrasive, disturbing, unsettling. It’s also very thrilling if you let his atmosphere and tone set in. They aren’t easy films to digest. For instance, I personally hated his weird indie darling Dogtooth; it absolutely just did not work for me, and I even gave it a couple chances. His 2011 follow-up Alps was much more intriguing to me. Although it’s not much less weird, if at all. Through both these pictures, never mind how I feel about the first, his strangeness settles in and you start to understand, and expect, the oddities he brings out with each subsequent movie. The Lobster is an exceptional work of romance and science fiction mashed into the oddest of stories. Lanthimos works it into a genuinely magical cinematic experience that is both beautiful and a scary prediction of how a society exhibiting unhealthy preoccupations with the personal (and sexual) relationships of its citizens can breed a confusing existential situation for those who feel they exist outside the system. At the bottom of its intentions, The Lobster is a story which stands for love against all odds, love at any cost – love, love, love!
Screen Shot 2016-05-03 at 2.12.36 PM
The marriage industrial complex has run wild in Lanthimos’ screenplay. In this dystopian future, not far off, being single is reprehensible. Is it because of sociopolitical views? It is out of necessity in a society where human life is waning and procreation is a must? Who knows. But this vision of society’s trajectory imagines the fixation on coupling, the idea that people must find a partner in order to live a human life, as having gone to the extreme. If these people at the Hotel cannot find themselves a mate they’re cast off, turned into animals. It’s hilariously absurd. Initially, the singles are cast out of society, literally ejected from the city and brought to the Hotel. After David (Farrell) experiences a divorce, he finds himself whisked off and given his societal ultimatum, forced into finding someone to live the rest of his life with – again – or else wander the wilderness. The even greater hilarity comes out of David and his decision to become a lobster, should he be cast out into nature.
What’s most intriguing is how everything people feel pressure about from society’s expectations becomes amplified. Now the threat of losing hair is suddenly the number one superficial threat against finding a partner. A sad conversation between David and a woman verging on her last night at the Hotel sees her questioning his possible future hair loss, bringing out a truly depression scene that’s also darkly funny. The entire thing is dark and comedic; sometimes one more than the other. And that’s part of The Lobster‘s appeal is the delicate balance between pitch black plot and the almost effortless, riotous comedy of the dialogue and interactions between characters.
Screen Shot 2016-05-03 at 2.23.55 PM
Heartless Woman: “Theres blood and biscuits everywhere
David: “I hope she dies right away. On second thought, I hope she suffers quite a bit before she dies. I just hope her pathetic screams cant be heard from my room. Because I was thinking about havina lie down. And I need peace and quiet. I was playingolf and Im quite tired. The last thing I need is some woman dying slowly and loudly.”
Screen Shot 2016-05-03 at 2.31.28 PM
The dystopian horror of this future is not so much the almost quarantining of single people, forcing them into choosing a mate. More so it is the existential horror of being forced into molding oneself to the whims of someone else. And essentially, that is the bending of our personal will to society. David and the Heartless Woman are driven together, eventually discovered to be futile after David shows emotion – because she kills his brother – and they find out he’s let societal expectation push him to a fake love. In a sense, David is like the escaping prisoner trying to execute the plan to escape his chains. Likewise the Limping Man (Whishaw) also gets into a relationship under false pretense, only his is a bit easier to hold up against scrutiny. Regardless, the point is the same. People are pushed into relationships by the state’s system and they manufacture neat little families, fit for procreation, economic consumption, and so on. This is the ultimate dystopian element is that society is controlling every last aspect of life, down to the family, down to sexual impulse and control. One fo the more horrifying moments, to me, is when the Lisping Man (Reilly) is caught for frequent masturbation in his room; as everyone sits around eating their meals in the big dining hall, the Hotel Manager (Colman) and her waiters come out, burning his masturbation hand in a toaster.
Screen Shot 2016-05-03 at 2.47.31 PM
Yet for all the Hotel/society’s madness, once David gets himself out into the forest and meets the rebel group, the Loners, he discovers there’s as much madness out there, too. People are subjected to the Red Kiss if they’re found flirting or kissing, et cetera: each person has their lips sliced open with razors, then they are forced into a kiss. Yikes. Worse than that, there’s something alluded to as the Red Intercourse. Not explained, though as the Loner Leader (Seydoux) suggests we can easily figure that out on our own. So even as David escapes the Hotel, the Loners are equally as strict. The movie has as much to comment about rebel and dissident groups as it does on the controlling arm of society.
Screen Shot 2016-05-03 at 2.51.01 PM
While the Loners fight that good fight, their methods are no less controlling, nor are they any less cruel; in fact, their punishments are almost a little more hardcore than even the nastiness of the Hotel. So in a way, the Loners represent the idea that in this dystopian world being single is just as horrific as being forced into/doomed to a married life, willed into companionship. And above everything else thematically, Lanthimos expresses the futile existential struggle of worrying about whether or not finding a life partner is the be-all end-all of our existence on Earth. Because in the end, neither option is good for everyone. You cannot prescribe a system for discovering a lover, a lifetime friend and soulmate. It happens differently for different people, and the more society puts a hold on traditional, cookie cutter relationships the closer we get to a dystopian nightmare like The Lobster. This is why the burgeoning relationship between David and the Short Sighted Woman (Weisz) represents something outside the box. They’re drawn together outside the normal systemic process of relationships. And even though the Loners don’t approve, they still do it, so there’s no small box where these two can be crammed in and defined. They find love on their own terms. On secret missions to the city they’re even required to act like lovers, to make their appearance feel real and proper to anyone looking on. So within the system, and outside, they work towards a lasting, loving relationship. At least until the end where we’re left with an ambiguous moment: does David make the final commitment, or does he run from this relationship like the last to try and find another one? There’s no telling. I like to think he took the plunge, dedicated to his loving partner for all time; no matter what.
Screen Shot 2016-05-03 at 3.04.09 PM
This is one of my favourite films of 2015. A veritable 5-star work of cinema. Lanthimos allows a romance to come out here while simultaneously exploring his vision of dystopian future. Some dystopian fiction feels far off. Somehow, Lanthimos makes The Lobster feel odd and science fiction-like in a social setting, all the while giving it a feeling that this is a future so close that it’s eerie. There are moments of very futuristic thought in terms of social and romantic relationships, as well as deeply affecting scenes of emotion. With people turning into animals, a rebel group living amongst the forest, a Hotel where singles are imprisoned in order to find a husband or wife, Lanthimos has a distinct concept of a couple-obsessed society where the government has completely breached the wall separating the bedroom and the state. While many might find this movie, and others like it, off-putting or too strange to enjoy, for those willing to get weird this is a fascinating work of art. Totally worth the experience.

Tyrannosaur; a.k.a What is Redemption?

Tyrannosaur. 2011. Directed & Written by Paddy Considine.
Starring Peter Mullan, Olivia Colman, Eddie Marsan, Paul Popplewell, Samuel Bottomley, Sian Breckin, Ned Dennehy, Sally Carman, Julia Mallam and Natalia Carta.
Warp X/Inflammable Films/Film4/UK Film Council/Screen Yorkshire/EM Media/Optimum Releasing.
Not Rated. 92 minutes.
Drama

★★★★★
tyrannosaur-poster01 Paddy Considine is a great artist, in terms of writing and directing. He proves it here, fully. I already enjoyed his talents as an actor. However, the promise he shows in the dual role of writer-director with Tyrannosaur is astounding. Because it’s a grounded, raw and real piece of work. There’s no doubt. Every inch of this film speaks to the core of the lower middle class, hell, anyone who isn’t on the bourgeoisie scale. This movie is about the common man, its heart is in the common people. Considine writes as if he knows each of these characters, from Peter Mullan’s agonisingly truthful/equally painful Joseph to Hannah and her heartbreaking faith in the face of all hardship played perfectly by Olivia Colman. While there is truly a ton to love about Considine’s debut feature (his first work as director was the short film which turned into this: Dog Altogether), the best of everything is the fact that, among an industry almost obsessed with keeping to fads and follow along with trends, this movie touches on real issues and struggles, shockingly true to life situations and all the horrifically honest bits of life people often don’t want to acknowledge exist. At times this is a film you may want to look away from, even if its little speckles of violence aren’t explicit and graphically shown. But trust me, it’s worth the effort to get through because Tyrannosaur has a message beneath it all.
tyrannosaur
A career alcoholic and a man with constant burning rage in his heart, Joseph (Peter Mullan) has only acquaintances. His one friend, his dog, gets beaten to death one night. By his own hand. After this event, Joseph goes down the bottle even further. Between fighting people at his favourite hole in the wall bar to arguing with an idiot neighbour, something always seems to be following Joseph, to be eating him alive. After taking refuge in a store, he meets Hannah (Olivia Colman) and they form a nice yet tenuous bond. She has her own problems. At home, Hannah’s husband James (Eddie Marsan), a fairly bad drunk himself , abuses her; he urinates on her after she won’t wake up when he’s home from the pub, he later beats her up. When the lives of Hannah and Joseph intersect more intensely, things begin to change for both of them. Although, for one of the two it may not turn out as perfectly as they had imagined. And soon an act transpires which can’t be changed.
2011_tyrannosaur_004
On top of the raw, gritty realism of Considine’s writing, his directorial style plays just as well to the story and its themes. There is nothing fancy about the way he presents his subject. In fact, that’s what works. I find there’s a tendency for films with tough subject to often lean into trying too hard for an aesthetic which matches it, in terms of it becoming fabricated. Whereas there are films like this one and something like Nicolas Winding Refn’s Pusher trilogy which use a very simple look, and it suits the raw feeling of the plot and story. Mostly, Considine puts us directly with both Joseph and Hannah. He finds a way to simply let the viewer watch these characters, as well as sit right in on their situation alongside them. We get great looks at the landscape around these characters, such as the lower class housing where Joseph lives and the little pubs and all that. At the same time, we’re closed in with good tight frames on the faces of Joseph and Hannah respectively. We’re as close to in their heads as possible, sort of floating along in their life. Not to say Considine doesn’t do anything interesting. He does. But it’s the way he does it so simply which makes it work flawless, it is understated film making; less is more, in a wonderfully bleak way.
tyrannosaur-5
Adding to the realism of the way in which Considine writes and presents his subject/themes, the two big central performances of Tyrannosaur are towering as the beast from which it takes its name.
Peter Mullan is an actor I’ve always loved. The first time I actually took notice of him personally was Trainspotting and then Session 9, but after that I went back and found all sorts of amazing performances. Here, he spreads his wings and flies. It’s utterly amazing. And crazy enough, from the first moments we see the character Joseph when he kicks his beloved dog to death, there’s somehow part of us wanting to connect. Even after seeing such a devastating and senseless, heartless act, there was something in Joseph I couldn’t shake. It’s a repulsive act to begin a film, but that’s part of the redemptive process. Mullan takes us through all the motions with Joseph, working from a despicable moment in time to the finale where surprisingly he makes it through, somehow. Part of why Joseph is able to hold onto us, or me anyways as a viewer, is because of the way Mullan plays him. There are sensitive scenes where Joseph actually appears naked and raw to us with his inner self, a man who wants to be someone else other than what he’s become. Those scenes are juxtaposed with the raging animal inside him, clawing to get out; and sometimes, it does. Mullan was and is the only man to play Joseph. Can’t see him as anyone else. The intensity of this character comes off perfect with Mullan in the role, as does the inner struggle without Considine having to write in a ton of expository back story.
No way can Olivia Colman be left out of the acting conversation. The role of Hannah is not an easy one, nor is it an uncommon life; sadly too many women suffer in disgusting relationships such as the one she and her husband have together. Colman brings a humanity to the role. Many female characters who are abuse/rape victims, such as Hannah, seem to get written wildly one-dimensional. With Hannah, Considine gives us a woman who is religious and at the same time is confronting all these things – alcoholism, physical and mental abuse, rape, et cetera – which directly contradict the heart of true religion. Colman shows us the core of a woman whose faith is holding on so hard to her heart and her mind, yet at the same time she is a woman who can only take so much. At times, I teared up, all due to Colman and her performance. It’s an excellent pairing with the powerhouse abilities of Mullan on display.
Tyrannosaur.2011.720p.x264.BrRip_.YIFY05-25-38
Tyrannosaur is a 5-star film. All the way. I love every last second of it, even if it is a grim watch at most points. Paddy Considine proves his worth as a writer-director. He knows how to present the grittiness of real life in a welcomed perspective. While there is an over abundance of the mental and physical violence inherent in many lives around the world, Considine also brings us into a space where redemption is possible. On one hand, the character of Joseph begins driving towards oblivion head-on and even Hannah gets caught up in this whirlwind of rage. On the other hand, both of these characters show us that, no matter what, in the end redemption can be possible. Even someone like Joseph, whose first scenes would have most people believing it would never happen. Maybe it never does, fully. But the faith in humanity, not that of religion, is what triumphs. Underneath the rough exterior, Tyrannosaur has a clear and true heart filled with the dreams of possibility.