“Lobster” Humorously Challenges Our Notion of Love

By its very nature, falling in love is a transformative
act.  The newly besotted tends to look at
life, themselves and others in a myriad of different ways when Cupid’s arrow
finds its mark.  Greek director Yorgos Lanthimos’ The Lobster takes this in an intriguing new direction as it looks at our
perception of love and the changes it brings in a decidedly unique and ironic
manner.  Its premise is one for the ages,
one that appears silly on the surface but becomes more meaningful on
contemplation.

Set in the near future, the film takes place in a society in
which being single is illegal.  The
unmarried are taken to a posh hotel where they’re told they have 45 days to
find true love among their fellow guests. 
If they fail in this, they will be turned into an animal and set loose
in the nearby woods.  The upside?  Well, you get to choose the animal you want
to spend the rest of your life as.

This is the situation David (an excellent Colin Farrell)
finds himself in after his wife leaves him. 
With his brother, who’s now a dog, in tow he dutifully checks into the
hotel with nary a glimmer of hope or emotion. 
Among those in the same boat is the Limping Man (Ben Whisaw) who suffers
from an injury that will make it hard for him to find a mate, the Lisping Man
(John C. Reilly) whose speech impediment makes it hard for him to communicate,
the Nosebleed Woman (Jessica Barden) who might begin to bleed at any moment and
Biscuit Woman (Ashley Jensen), whose sense of desperation acts as a repellant
to any perspective lover.

However, in the woods nearby, where the singles go regularly
to engage in a perverse game through which they might extend their stay, is a
small resistance group led by Loner Leader (Lea Seydeaux).  David encounters her and her followers during
one of his forays into the forest as well as the Short Sighted Woman (Rachel
Weisz), a person with whom he may have more in common than he suspects.

The performances throughout are among the most deadpan in
nature.  Buster Keaton would feel right
at home in this world in which everyone seems to have been emotionally beaten
down or never taught the social value of emoting or perhaps have never been
loved.  None of the inhabitants at the
hotel are taken to making romantic declarations, which lends a sense of doom to
the entire enterprise where they’re concerned. 
Love seems an impossibility for all concerned, thus making it all the
more poignant when it finally does happen.

While this may seem a dour affair, there’s a great deal of
humor at play here, albeit of the very subtlest sort.  Much of the awkwardness that occurs between
the guests is agonizingly funny while the bland nature of the setting and the
way in which they all pursue love underscores the irony at play here.  No one has ever been able to explain this
all-consuming notion, making its purposeful pursuit seem all the more
ludicrous.

If nothing else, Lanthimos film is teeming with ambition and
ideas, something in short supply where today’s cinema is concerned.  That it becomes a bit bogged down by it all
and flirts with tedium during its final act is certainly due to the director’s
ambition rather than narrative laziness. 
Be that as it may, The Lobster is a film that stays with you.  It’s first scene has haunted, and I suspect
will continue to do so, since I’ve seen it, while its premise is one you can’t
help but turn over and over in your mind. 
While the first point you may consider is what animal you’d want to be
turned into, that will be far from the last question you’ll pose yourself after
seeing this heartfelt, memorable film. 

This article appears in Jun 9-15, 2016.