This review is part of Honi Soit’s continued coverage of the 71st Sydney Film Festival, 5-16 June. Read the rest of our reviews here.
Yorgos Lanthimos is the type of director who capitalises on ‘shock factor’ to ensure that you are still thinking about his use of themes long after you’ve stepped foot into his worlds. And that’s exactly what he continues with his latest film Kinds of Kindness (2024) where he reunites with screenwriter Efthimis Filippou.
When the lights turn off in the State Theatre, and the opening credits begin to roll, you are immediately hit with the glorious synth riff that is “Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)” by Eurythmics. Almost instantaneously, the song forces you to sit up in your seat – poised, ready and excited for the almost three-hour-long movie that is to come. As intimidating as that runtime sounds, I can assure you – time flies when you are constantly on edge.
Triptych in nature, the film covers three stories: ‘The Death of R.M.F.’, ‘R.M.F is Flying’, and ‘R.M.F. Eats a Sandwich’. The main roles are played by an ensemble cast consisting of Emma Stone, Jesse Plemons, Willem Dafoe and Margaret Qualley in what are the central recurring characters. These actors are joined by the recognisable faces of Hong Chau (The Whale), Joe Alwyn (Conversation with Friends), Mamoudou Athie (Archive 81) and Hunter Schafer (Euphoria).
Plemons shines in the first of the three stories,‘The Death of R.M.F.’, as Robert, a man whose life is dictated by his boss, Raymond (Willem Dafoe), who provides instructions covering every intricate detail of his daily routine. When he’s finally set free from Raymond’s control, Robert seems to suffer from a form of ‘Stockholm Syndrome’ — plagued with the difficulty of making decisions for himself. Some of my favourite elements of the storytelling are the jump cuts that highlight Robert waiting around in his characteristically awkward, anxious, and all-the-while scheming state. He makes many desperate attempts to win back the “kindness” and affection of Raymond, providing clever commentary on the human dependency for direction, rules and structure.
Desperation and co-dependency continue to weave through the second and third stories. While the final two stories are weaker than the first, it is not simply because they are more abstract. In ‘R.M.F. is Flying’ Plemons is now Daniel, a man longing for his wife, Liz (Emma Stone), who is lost at sea. After her return, Daniel becomes convinced that the woman living with him is an imposter and not his wife. ‘Liz’ however, is loyal to Daniel, happy to go to whatever lengths to please him – even if that includes acts that fuel his sudden cannibalistic desires. With a few plot holes, ‘R.M.F. is Flying’, arguably lacked the finesse of the first story and perhaps not intended to have the same depth.Perhaps it was designed to keep the audience awake for the third and final story.
‘R.M.F Eats a Sandwich’ sees Stone and Plemons as Emily and Andrew, two devout members of a cult under the control of Omi (Dafoe). Omi tasks Emily and Andrew to seek out a loosely identified “chosen one” in the form of Ruth (Qualley) who has the power to resurrect the dead. Stone is the focus of this narrative, embodying the eccentric, sparkly Emily, wearing a stylish light brown suit all throughout and speeding across in a dark purple sports car. Eventually kicked out of the cult, Emily, similar to Robert — Plemons’ character in the first story — is desperate to finish off her mission so she can be accepted once again. Whilst incredibly amusing, the ending left me feeling a little empty, and once again, the story fell short of the first’s.
The cinematography in this film was great – especially because I’m a sucker for symmetry, and there was lots of it. I most appreciated the use of close ups shots on Stone and Plemons in each story as it allowed them to show off their faces as canvases – painting intimate portraits of the inner workings of each characters mind through expressions rather than extra dialogue.
The triptych structure of this film appears to reflect the ancient use of triptychs, which was typically used to visualise Christianity and showcase devotion. This is evidently interwoven through the various characters who not only submit, but seek validation from characters also operating as lovers. Lanthimos ties the stories together with the use of R.M.F.: an elusive, unspeaking, background character who appears in each story — you can spot them in the hospital. On the surface they don’t seem to provide any addition to the plot, and I’ve been ruminating over the meaning of their appearances. Yet, that may be the exact purpose of R.M.F – to have us sit with the themes of the film and try to theorise links that may or may not exist.
I’m still undecided as to whether each story could standalone if it were not for the triptych structure. The pacing of each narrative was quite slow, and there were times where they turned messy, or left the viewer hungry for more (especially the second). In saying that, were they to be a little bit more refined, the first and the third story had the most potential for a full-length feature.
As for the question that may be on every cinephile’s mind: Is Kinds of Kindness Lanthimos’ best work thus far? No, and it’s certainly not for everyone. It is cruel, gory, abstract and, in my opinion, less palatable than Lanthimos’ collaborations with Tony McNamara. But Kinds of Kindness is also witty, dark, entertaining, and a nice opportunity to ease Lanthimos’ newfound audiences back into the more unhinged themes from his earlier pieces (which will also please long-time fans). It also helps that the performances from the entire cast are excellent and a drawing card in and of themselves.
So take what you will from this review, and if you do end up watching it, stay seated right until the very end, there is a mid-credits scene.
