The LobsterPeople do crazy things for love...even if they don't really want it. The Lobster is an absurdist black comedy set in a strange, fascistic dystopia, one where people who are not in a committed relationship are put into a probationary stage. They must find their new partner within forty-five days, or they are transformed into an animal of their choosing. Following his abandonment by his wife, middle-aged architect David (Colin Farrell) is brought to the hotel in the country where he will either find someone with whom he shares something defining in common, or become a lobster. No pressure.
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What identifies The Lobster as absurd is how silly it seems that there is this mounting pressure for David (and everyone in this world) to find a mate, lest they meet certain doom, and the lengths they go to in order to ensure their success in this desperate competition. There is no question in people's minds that those who "didn't make it" are transformed into animals; David's own brother is apparently turned into a dog, and in turn is his companion at the hotel. People speak with absolute sincerity about such bizarre elements in this world, like why choosing an appropriate animal if they fail to fall in love so crucial, because "a wolf cannot be with a penguin, and a hippopotamus and a camel together is just absurd." So-called "loners" are social outcasts; worse, they are in fact criminals in this society, hunted down with tranquilizer guns, their fates left unsaid, but one surmises they make up a fair share of the rabbits David catches later. The hotel that David visits is tightly regimented, so much so that it is fair to say it is in reality a prison, complete with uniforms and mandatory exercises, some so bizarre and even psychosexually sadistic that they are a form of torture. A chambermaid gives lap dances with the sterile neutrality of a nurse administering a shot to sharpen men's virility in the hopes that it will make them more enticing to a mate, and masturbation is strictly forbidden, punishable by scorching one's hand in a toaster.
David is a quintessential Kafkaesque protagonist, an everyman, but one who seems perpetually in conflict with a society which doesn't make sense in our worldview. As the near-sighted loner (and narrator) David meets later (Rachel Weisz) observes, he is a "presentable man", and he seems hospitable enough on the surface. However, as we get to know David, we suspect that his long-standing relationship with his estranged wife might have been one formed on superficial means, and their eventual split had to do with them coming to terms with the fact that superficial characteristics--like being near-sighted, which David also is--aren't enough to form a bond. It could be that when David arrives at the hotel, he's still grieving over his abandonment, but he is hardly committed to finding someone--not at least until the sand in his hourglass stars fading quick. After the successful deception by one of his friends he meets at the hotel, snagging a young lady with a predilection to nosebleeds by faking them himself, David attempts to woo a woman who has been at the hotel for longer than anyone; her secret is that she has been successfully adding days to her stay by nabbing numerous loners in their hunt, and is rightly described as a completely heartless woman (Angeliki Papoulia). David's efforts require him to feign heartlessness himself, defying his own nature and willingly hurting others in order to "impress" this woman whom he cares nothing for, just so he can avoid the terrible fate awaiting him should he fail. It is when this deception is unmasked that we see just how far this ritual has pushed him, and his own revelation forces him into the life of a fugitive, a "loner" himself. One would think that escaping this tyrannical grip over his heartstrings would be a liberating experience; on the contrary, the uncompromising leader of the loners (Léa Seydoux) highlights that their way of life is just as adamantine in its regulations, so that there is no genuine freedom for David, no matter where he runs. The loners are akin to a type of radical extremist group, carrying out raids on the hotel, although their mission to attempt to undermine the tenets of mandatory partnership seems more like a diversion so they can enforce their own independent ideologies. The loners are just as eager to punish dissenters, a danger which emerges more and more as David and the near-sighted woman begin to harbor feelings of affection toward one another, a crime punishable by mutilation.
A lot of The Lobster is reminiscent of another film about a dystopian society which sternly regulates social order, Logan's Run. Whereas Logan's Run imposed penalties on those who reached a certain age, The Lobster approaches this from the angle of failing to couple. In essence, both films deal with the idea that those who do not conform to prescribed social mores and ideals have failed in their roles in society, that they are unacceptable, either because they are old or because they are unwanted romantically. Both films speak to a kind of underlying fascism in social constructs, that we equate one's value with youth or desirability, a superficial element of society which is nonetheless still a ubiquitous, silent component. The reasons that David--and the others in The Lobster--go to such extreme lengths to procure a mate is because they are all victims of the social constructs which are like the handcuffs which slapped on David during his first day to the hotel. These concepts are designed to maintain a specific kind of social order, and denying those concepts is a kind of social treason. The Lobster takes these subconscious perceptions of worth and applies them at a higher level, leading to the kind of humiliations like the fear of arrest for being caught alone in the mall, where being single is a crime. It's funny, because watching The Lobster, you almost want to root for David to find that special someone so that he can avoid the fate that threatens him. But it overlooks the real reason why it is finding someone special matters...or moreover, why it really doesn't matter at all.
Recommended for: Fans of a sharp, absurdist comedy about the faults in our social constructs, how we put too much stock in other's perceptions of ourselves, and turn love into a status symbol, like a new car.
David is a quintessential Kafkaesque protagonist, an everyman, but one who seems perpetually in conflict with a society which doesn't make sense in our worldview. As the near-sighted loner (and narrator) David meets later (Rachel Weisz) observes, he is a "presentable man", and he seems hospitable enough on the surface. However, as we get to know David, we suspect that his long-standing relationship with his estranged wife might have been one formed on superficial means, and their eventual split had to do with them coming to terms with the fact that superficial characteristics--like being near-sighted, which David also is--aren't enough to form a bond. It could be that when David arrives at the hotel, he's still grieving over his abandonment, but he is hardly committed to finding someone--not at least until the sand in his hourglass stars fading quick. After the successful deception by one of his friends he meets at the hotel, snagging a young lady with a predilection to nosebleeds by faking them himself, David attempts to woo a woman who has been at the hotel for longer than anyone; her secret is that she has been successfully adding days to her stay by nabbing numerous loners in their hunt, and is rightly described as a completely heartless woman (Angeliki Papoulia). David's efforts require him to feign heartlessness himself, defying his own nature and willingly hurting others in order to "impress" this woman whom he cares nothing for, just so he can avoid the terrible fate awaiting him should he fail. It is when this deception is unmasked that we see just how far this ritual has pushed him, and his own revelation forces him into the life of a fugitive, a "loner" himself. One would think that escaping this tyrannical grip over his heartstrings would be a liberating experience; on the contrary, the uncompromising leader of the loners (Léa Seydoux) highlights that their way of life is just as adamantine in its regulations, so that there is no genuine freedom for David, no matter where he runs. The loners are akin to a type of radical extremist group, carrying out raids on the hotel, although their mission to attempt to undermine the tenets of mandatory partnership seems more like a diversion so they can enforce their own independent ideologies. The loners are just as eager to punish dissenters, a danger which emerges more and more as David and the near-sighted woman begin to harbor feelings of affection toward one another, a crime punishable by mutilation.
A lot of The Lobster is reminiscent of another film about a dystopian society which sternly regulates social order, Logan's Run. Whereas Logan's Run imposed penalties on those who reached a certain age, The Lobster approaches this from the angle of failing to couple. In essence, both films deal with the idea that those who do not conform to prescribed social mores and ideals have failed in their roles in society, that they are unacceptable, either because they are old or because they are unwanted romantically. Both films speak to a kind of underlying fascism in social constructs, that we equate one's value with youth or desirability, a superficial element of society which is nonetheless still a ubiquitous, silent component. The reasons that David--and the others in The Lobster--go to such extreme lengths to procure a mate is because they are all victims of the social constructs which are like the handcuffs which slapped on David during his first day to the hotel. These concepts are designed to maintain a specific kind of social order, and denying those concepts is a kind of social treason. The Lobster takes these subconscious perceptions of worth and applies them at a higher level, leading to the kind of humiliations like the fear of arrest for being caught alone in the mall, where being single is a crime. It's funny, because watching The Lobster, you almost want to root for David to find that special someone so that he can avoid the fate that threatens him. But it overlooks the real reason why it is finding someone special matters...or moreover, why it really doesn't matter at all.
Recommended for: Fans of a sharp, absurdist comedy about the faults in our social constructs, how we put too much stock in other's perceptions of ourselves, and turn love into a status symbol, like a new car.