The Lobster – A New Breed of Romance

It was the longest queue of the whole festival. The anticipation for Yorgos Lanthimos’ first English-language feature, The Lobster, had reached such fever pitch on its long march from Cannes, that by the time the London Film Festival screen opened to the press, a row of journalists and industry delegates stretched along the balcony of the newly-opened Picturehouse Central, down the staircase (illuminated tastefully from that icon of hip postmodernity – the ubiquitous hanging bulb), around the café, out into the street, back into the building, back up the stairs, and into the bar. While those around grumbled about the length, worrying about whether they would get in, there was one question on everyone’s minds: will it be worth it?

The Lobster is a romance with a heart of stone

It certainly was. The Lobster is a truly brilliant film, one that – with its stellar cast, exceptional script, and bold, idiosyncratic themes – is sure to rank as one of the year’s best. Taking place in a dystopian world – one not futuristic, but wholly of the moment – The Lobster postulates a scenario in which human loneliness has been outlawed; those who find themselves single, whether by design or accident, are sent to The Hotel, where they have 45 days to find a mate before they are turned into an animal of their choice. Their time can be extended by taking part in The Hunt, a bizarre ritual in which the besuited guests take up tranquilizer guns and attempt to capture The Loners – a gang of of defiantly-single renegades who live in the forest.

Our point of entry into this world is Colin Farrell’s character who, following a divorce, finds himself in the hotel – half summer resort, half prison – faced with the prospect of being turned into a lobster, a choice commended by Olivia Colman’s hotel manager (‘most people choose a dog. That’s why the world is full of dogs’). Colman’s character plays the dual role of matchmaker and correctional officer, like Cilla Black crossed with Nurse Ratched, while The Hotel functions like some kind of Butlins from hell: newly arrived visitors have one hand tied behind their back to remind them that things are better in pairs, and bleak skits are organised to emphasise the advantages of partner-hood.

Farrell’s character’s time at The Hotel is marked by a series of bad decisions, culminating in choosing to pair with a woman with no emotions (Angeliki Papoulia), renowned for her skill in hunting Loners. Of course, it is a partnership that cannot last, and the ill-suited match leads to some of the most profoundly brutal scenes of the film, before Farrell’s character flees to the woods and joins The Loners. But even being alone has rules. The gang, led by the mysterious Lea Seydoux, live by a code of their own, one that emphasizes the need for solidarity above all else: flirtation is punished by slicing open people’s lips, everyone dances solo to electronica, and the highest punishment is known as ‘The Red Intercourse’.

Unfortunately, while in their company Farrell manages to fall in love with a woman (Rachel Weisz), whose major attraction comes from the fact that she, like him, is shortsighted. This is a world where arbitrary common characteristics are a prerequisite for a well-made match, a fact underscored by the closing credits: Ben Whishaw – The Limping Man; John C. Reilly – Lisping Man. While such a concept may seem far-fetched, if we consider that OkCupid, branded as ‘the best dating site on Earth’, operates on the premise that a series of questionnaires fed into algorithms can lead to a perfect match, the idea seems much closer to home – even true love can be systemised. This feature comes back around in the final scene of the film, which leaves the audience reeling from horrifying ambiguity.

Lanthimos has proved himself adept at creating completely new worlds. Like his breakout film, Dogtooth, The Lobster’s environment is at once immediately familiar, and completely alienating. As dating apps like Tinder become more prevalent in society, and the phrase ‘we met on the internet’ becomes more and more acceptable, we are beginning to enter a phase of history in which there is no excuse for singledom, and an increasing pressure for those who choose to remain alone to justify their decisions.

The Lobster marks Lanthimos’ third feature with writer and regular collaborator, Efthimis Filippou, who injects his trademark deadpan humour into the dialogue, which often spills over into sheer brutality. With this being the director’s first English-language production, there is a fear that the script would lose some of the energy of his previous films. This proves to be unfounded – while there is a certain woodiness within the film, both from the actors and the script, this is part-and-parcel of the film’s experience, akin to a Pinter play in terms of unsettling off-putting-ness. At many points in the film, the silence of the auditorium was punctuated by incredulous laughter, as if to say ‘how can I be laughing at something so grotesque?’ But Lanthimos and Filippou tread the line between humour and repulsion with great ease.

The Lobster serves to cement Lanthimos’ well-earned reputation as one of the most exciting directorial talents working today. While the film dips in energy towards the end – something that could have been perhaps solved by a more decisive hand taking to the cutting floor – the scenario the film sets up is nothing short of astounding. Straddling genres with skill, The Lobster is a sci-fi without technology, a horror film without scares, a romance with a heart of stone. It is a walking contradiction. It is the most exciting thing I have seen all year.

_The Lobster is released on Friday, 16th October _