Kinds of Kindness (2024) | REVIEW

Directed by Yorgos Lanthimos — Screenplay by Yorgos Lanthimos & Efthimis Filippou.

I consistently find Yorgos Lanthimos, the Greek filmmaker behind works such as The Lobster and Poor Things, to be one of the most fascinating rising auteurs of European cinema. I often think about the Lars Von Trier quote: “a film should be like a stone in your shoe,” and, when it comes to European artists breaking through to the Hollywood gravitational center, Lanthimos is perhaps the one auteur that best manages to adhere to that specific Trier-esque modus operandi or end goal, as his films constantly test boundaries, provoke, or work against conventionality. Despite the odd and boundary pushing premise of Poor Things, it can feel as if, as Lanthimos has been embraced more and more by American audiences, he may have gotten further away from his auteurist roots, but Kinds of Kindness, his 2024 anthology triptych film, does, at times, feel like the American output of his that shares the most DNA with his most famous Greek film, Dogtooth. The closest English-language comparison of his is probably The Killing of a Sacred Deer. Kinds of Kindness is a fascinating work that many will find challenging, as it sometimes explores depravity, features tonal shifts, and is quite lengthy at two hours and forty-four minutes.

Each of these films in this Lanthimos anthology package features the initials R.M.F. in their titles, which refer to the character(s) played by Yorgos Stefanakos. It is unclear what exactly those initials stand for, and, though the character named such is present in all three stories, it must be said that he isn’t really an active participant in the premises as much as he just appears or has things happen to him. I’ve seen others say the initials may refer to ‘random male figure,’ which, sort of, works, but you’d think there was something more significant behind those initials, even if Lanthimos won’t admit to it. Anyway, in addition to certain thematic through lines and the R.M.F. individual, actors Jesse Plemons, Emma Stone, Willem Dafoe, Margaret Qualley, Hong Chau, Mamoudou Athie, and Joe Alwyn appear in all three films, but notably, in different roles for each film.

The first of these three films is titled The Death of R.M.F., and it tells the story of Robert Fletcher (Plemons), an individual who takes direct and very specific orders from his boss, Raymond (Dafoe), who desires to control every aspect of Fletcher’s day. However, when Raymond instructs Fletcher to kill someone, Fletcher decides that he cannot go through with it. How Raymond reacts to that rejection, what Fletcher loses as a result, and whether or not he can live without it is what the film is all about.

The first of these ‘shorts’ sets the stylistic tone that the entire anthology follows. Unlike some of Lanthimos’ previous efforts, it does not make heavy use of a fisheye lens, opting instead for a more realistic look. We see black-and-white flashbacks and dreams, which is also the case with the remaining films in the anthology. Also, like the other films, this one features an ominous score from Jerskin Fendrix, who employs discordant piano sounds or disturbing choir-like voices to get the film somewhat off-kilter in an unnerving way.

Having seen all of these, I can say that I think The Death of R.M.F. is the most accomplished and effective of these three. I think of it as a film about the rules that govern us, whether that be explicit rules or a social contract, and how quickly we can lose our way when we opt out. But, at the same time, also a film about how those in power micromanage us, and should we desire a good life, we have to play by their rules, whether moral or immoral. It focuses on how far we’re willing to go to comply with the immoralities of our society, if it means we get to be let inside the gates rather than being forcefully kept out. It is quite good and shares DNA with films like Strangers on a Train and Dogtooth. Plemons is especially good here, as he immediately proves himself to be really good at striking the right tone and character-specific expression for Lanthimosian cinema, which, of course, includes stilted interactions.

The middle section of the anthology showcases a film titled R.M.F. Is Flying, and it tells the story of a mourning police officer, Daniel (Plemons), who is struggling following the disappearance of his wife, Liz (Stone). When Liz is found, and she returns to his life, all should be right with the world. But Daniel thinks something is off. Her shoes don’t fit her, she’s forgotten his preferences, and her likes and dislikes have changed, thus leading Daniel to become paranoid about whether or not this woman is really his wife.

The second film feels like the least thematically coherent of the three, but it is also playful with tone in a way that may appeal to some viewers. It opens with almost a comedy of manners type of humor, as characters would rather, for example, endure hilariously undercooked food than make someone feel bad, before it later morphs into this thriller-esque, depraved, almost romantic relationship version of The Banshees of Inisherin. This one is really strange, and it closes on shots of dogs acting as humans, sometimes in disturbingly dark ways.

The third and final film in the anthology flick is titled R.M.F. Eats a Sandwich, and this narrative follows two members of a mysterious sex cult led by the enigmatic pair of Omi (Dafoe) and Aka (Chau). Andrew (Plemons) and Emily (Stone), the two aforementioned cult-members, are searching for a potential new female initiate who must be able to reanimate the dead. During their search for this woman, the family that Emily left behind to join the cult continues to show up in the hopes that she may return to normalcy, but the closer she gets to them, the more she risks losing her place in the cult.

This, the last of the three, is more Emma Stone-centric than the first two, which focus primarily on Jesse Plemons. This one is equally dark as the previous film, but in different ways. There is a really dark and bleak irony to the ending, and this third film feels very mean and cruel. It is a hopeless ending to a very dark and challenging anthology film. It becomes clear here that a thematic through line of this anthology package is a focus on control, love, and dependency, with the first film focusing on societal links to those themes, the second film being about romantic links, and, here, the final of the three films is about how control, love, and dependency relate to your belief system.

Ultimately, Kinds of Kindness feels like more of an artistic experiment than a fully fleshed-out film. There are elements here that could merit a larger focus or their own solo film, but, at the same time, I think part of the point of this package is to leave you with the complicated feelings that it does (i.e., to be the ‘stone in your shoes’). I can understand how one might read biblical allusions into all three of the distinct films, but, even if you’re not prone to religious interpretations of films, I think it can just as easily be understood as an anthology film about the toxicity of love, and how people may think they’re allowed to require you to prove the depths of your infatuation and devotion (hence the scene where Margaret Qualley performs a cover version of the Bee Gees hit “How Deep Is Your Love?” In the end, what stood out the most to me was the variety of performances turned in by Plemons in these films. The way he carries himself makes the three different characters feel wholly distinct, and I can fully understand why the Cannes jury singled him out for praise last year.

7.7 out of 10

– Review written by Jeffrey Rex Bertelsen.