Kinds of Kindness
After the comparatively “normal” visions of “The Favourite” and “Poor Things,” Yorgos Lanthimos is back in provocateur mode. Working more in the vein of his earlier, more surreal flicks like “The Lobster,” “Dogtooth” and “The Killing of a Sacred Deer,” the filmmaker’s latest reunites him with Efthimis Filippou, the co-writer of those movies, to deliver a study on the many facets of control: How we claim to fight against but often return to it, and how often it limits our ability to live to satisfying lives.
“Kinds of Kindness” overflows with ideas, giving the project the feel of three films that Lanthimos and Filippou couldn’t quite flesh out to feature-length. So, seemingly, they decided to cram them together into a nearly three-hour anthology. Conversations about what ties the films together thematically may end in frustration. Still, the one thing that undeniably unites them is Lanthimos’ mastery of tone, making another film that’s alternately hysterical and terrifying, even when it puts up walls against interpretation. The anthology nature of the project brings to mind the theory that if you try to make two (or in this case, three) movies, you’re not making one cohesive one. Still, the audacity of the project carries the day, and a cast once again bringing their A-game for a director who knows how to work with ensembles.
The first of three films within a film is playful even in its title: “The Death of R.M.F.” It’s not long before one realizes every character’s initials could fit that monogram. It’s probably Robert Fletcher (Jesse Plemons), the corporate lackey who follows every order from his boss, Raymond (Willem Dafoe). Like most Lanthimos projects, the filmmaker takes a relatable concept and pushes it to theatrical extremes to make his point. You think your boss is controlling? Raymond tells Robert what to do with nearly every minute of his day, including when to eat and make love to his wife Sarah (Hong Chau). Because of how it would impact his workflow, he’s even forcing Robert into drugging his wife to miscarry so they will remain childless. However, Raymond’s latest order—to murder another man with the initials R.M.F.—finally pushes our protagonist over the edge.
The problems start for Robert when he pushes back on first-degree murder, even though Raymond insists that the victim is willing to go through with it himself. When Raymond stands up for himself, his life falls apart, leading him to worry that he’s been replaced in the corporate machine and desperately trying to reclaim his role as a cog within it. Plemons is stellar here, conveying a sort of desperation that comes from adults who have never really had any control over their lives and how drastic change can unmoor a person. Plemons grounds Lanthimos and Filippou’s vision in a relatable, emotional spiral, which helps make “The Death of R.M.F.” the most effective of the three chapters. It’s also the one that grounds the thematic throughline: control and what happens when we lose it. It’s not accidental that Robert and Sarah are gifted one of John McEnroe’s broken tennis rackets and Ayrton Senna’s battered helmet: relics of lost moments of control.
