If history is to be believed (which, by its very definition, it should, despite a rise in revisionism and challenging of historical institutions, but I digress), theatre has its earliest roots in Ancient Greece, where the Antiquity and its plethora of historically-significant artists and thinkers, gave rise to the conventions that are now popularly known as comedy and tragedy, which have endured the test of time and come to define much of modern entertainment and been the source from which the majority of performing arts draw their inspiration. Now, millennia after the innovative conventions created by the Ancient Greeks, we have another Greek artist who retains the same spirit and traditions, Yorgos Lanthimos, a director who may be extremely polarizing, but his talents as a filmmaker and writer are highly notable. His previous Greek-language films Alps and Dogtooth were inventive, highly-controversial pieces of modern Greek tragedy, and allowed Lanthimos to venture into the realm of the mainstream with his English-language debut The Lobster last year. Lanthimos continues this streak of divisive, controversial and utterly extraordinary filmmaking with The Killing of a Sacred Deer, an incredible film that left me both scintilated and terrified in equal measures, and proves that Lanthimos is one of our most unique and original cinematic voices working today, and along with his screenwriter partner Efthymis Filippou (with whom Lanthimos wrote The Lobster, Alps, and Dogtooth), he is helping to push the boundaries of what messages a film can effectively convey, and how there is no premise too audacious or complex for cinema to handle. In the shortest possible terms, The Killing of a Sacred Deer is an exquisite film that packs multiple themes and emotional nuances into a story that left me shocked beyond belief.

The Killing of a Sacred Deer focuses on Dr. Steven Murphy (Colin Farrell), a cardiologist who has many demons that haunt his past. One such demon is manifested in Martin (Barry Keoghan), a sinister teenage boy who clearly has a developmental disorder, which causes Steven to feel sympathy towards him. The exact nature of how they know each other, as well as the reason Steven goes out of his way to spend time with the young man is not entirely clear until it is revealed that Steven operated on Martin’s father in the past, and unfortunately it was that procedure that took the man’s life. Feeling like Steven was responsible for his father’s demise and ultimately the deterioration of Martin’s seemingly picture-perfect suburban family, Martin curses Steven and gives him an extraordinarily difficult ultimatum – he needs to atone for his actions in killing Martin’s father by taking the life of a member of his own family, or have his entire family murdered after a painful and debilitating disease that will leave them paralyzed and famished until they finally perish. Steven, clearly a man of science, refuses to believe this, but as his children Bob (Sunny Suljic) and Kim (Raffey Cassidy) start to exhibit the symptoms Martin mentions, he and his wife Anna (Nicole Kidman), also a doctor (an ophthalmologist), have to consider the possibility of honoring Martin’s request in order to lift the curse.

In all honesty, The Killing of a Sacred Deer is an almost impenetrable film, and it is almost impossible to decode. It is far easier to just take this film for what it is, a deeply disturbing character study with a bitterly acidic sense of humor. The Killing of a Sacred Deer is based on the Ancient Greek tragedy by the title Iphigenia at Aulis (which is mentioned in the film, and from which the film gets its title, as the protagonist of the play murders a holy deer belonging to the goddess Artemis and has to make the decision of killing a member of his family or having them all murdered), and it feels strongly akin to the heavy-handed, complex Greek plays from which it is clearly inspired. It is a tense film that places the focus clearly on the relationship between characters, and endeavors to explore the story through the interactions that the film consists almost solely of. Understandably, The Killing of a Sacred Deer, as a character-driven piece, depends on the performances of the actors, and containing a very small cast of a half-dozen performers, it manages to delve deeply into the unmistakably complex themes it evokes, and develops the film into something extraordinarily special, with each actor being of superb excellence, commiting admirably to their roles, and creating characters that are fully-realized (and utterly terrifying) archetypes that are neither cliched nor wholly original, but rather a frighteningly realistic representation of a truthful set of individuals who find themselves in a hellish realm of vaguely supernatural elements and highly-disturbing incidents that will very likely bring about their painful and excruciating demise (did I mention The Killing of a Sacred Deer is also a very dark comedy?)

I remember a time when Colin Farrell was not considered much of an actor, occupying leading man roles in brainlessly entertaining blockbusters and action films that had very little cultural value other than making money. I was astounded when I discovered In Bruges, the debut feature-length film from Martin McDonagh, which featured Farrell giving a hilarious, self-aware performance that was a great part to show off Farrell’s evident talents, as well as being an opportunity for the actor to playfully mock his own career choices that positioned him as a popular (but not entirely acclaimed) leading man. In his second collaboration with Lanthimos (after his superb performance in The Lobster), Farrell gives what could very possibly be his greatest performance yet in The Killing of a Sacred Deer. Playing Steven Murphy, the conflicted cardiologist haunted by his past, Farrell is astonishing. He is almost unrecognizable – perhaps not physically, but the thick grey beard does contribute to an extent – from the rest of his roles, playing a character far more complex and mature in personal motivation than anything Farrell has done before. Murphy is a despicably fascinating character, someone who the audience attempts to pierce the metaphorical skin of, to understand his motivations and to degrade his stoic persona in favor of discovering his past. Farrell is given so much to do with this character, and it is in his moments of rapid hysteria that we can truly see the range Farrell brought to this role. Watching The Killing of a Sacred Deer struck me with the thought that Farrell’s earlier career choices may have put him on the map as a leading man, but it seemed to be his calling to play these tangled, Daedalian character parts that demand so much from the actor, forcing him to show his vulnerabilities more than any mainstream film desired him to. The Killing of a Sacred Deer gives Farrell a fantastic character with meaningful development, and he rises to the occasion, giving an absolutely incredible performance that stands as his highest career achievement to date, in my own opinion at least. Farrell continues to astonish me with his growth as an actor, and he is slowly developing into one of the most consistently excellent performers of his generation.

In terms of consistently great performers, there are very few actresses working today who are as majestic and brilliant as Nicole Kidman, who is currently in a career revival of her own, according to many people (I’d argue for one to have a career revival, that career must have gone somewhere, so I am not entirely sure where Kidman’s career went in the first place). Like Farrell, Kidman always flourishes in these intimate character-driven films that give her fascinating characters to work with, and The Killing of a Sacred Deer is one of her finest moments. Playing Anna, the icy but still caring mother and wife, Kidman is wonderful. Her chemistry with Farrell is palpable, and in her own moments, she is quietly intense and certainly the emotional core of this film. Her motives and morals are extremely unclear, and she proves herself to be far less of an ideal wife and mother when she herself suggests that Steven sacrifices one of the children in order to save her (all the characters in The Killing of a Sacred Deer are extraordinarily selfish). Kidman imbues the character with such poignant nuance, and develops her far more than one would expect – we cannot bear to relate to her (even if her own inner-turmoil may seem familiar to many of us), but we also cannot resist falling victim to her unconventionally alluring charisma that just draws the audience towards her serpentine nature. I am, by own admission, a relentless fan of Kidman, and I believe every performance she gives to be amongst her best, but The Killing of a Sacred Deer is quite simply (in purely objective terms) one of her most endearingly odd performances, a role that required the actress to play such a despicable character not as an icy, malicious villain, but as a concerned mother who seemingly wants the best (whether it is for her family or for herself remains to be seen). It is a great performance from a truly talented actress who never fails to astound me with her creative choices.

The Killing of a Sacred Deer features a trio of great performances from three young actors who manage to hold their own against the more well-known performers in the cast. Sunny Suljic and Raffey Cassidy are both terrific in the film, creating subversive characters that are far from typical representations of youth, even if the film does imply, at the outset, that they are just plot devices. Both are great and manage to convey the emotional turmoil and complex darkness of this film perfectly, proving to be far deeper characters than what they initially seem to be. However, the true breakout star of The Killing of a Sacred Deer is Barry Keoghan, who has been around for a little while (most recently having an integral role in Dunkirk), but finally gets the performance that showcases his remarkable talents here, playing the sinister character of Martin, who is just purely despicable, but in the way that is almost seductive in its brilliance. The audience just cannot look away from Keoghan’s performance, despite being physically repulsed and deeply disturbed by his demented nature. He is silently menacing, constructing a truly memorable antagonist not out of his direct actions, but through the implication of the malevolent evil that exists within him. Martin is a character that we do not know much about, and it is quite possible (although it is not overtly shown) that he has some supernatural powers that cause him to take revenge on the man who broke his family apart. Keoghan, undeniably, has an enormous career ahead of his, and his performance here in The Killing of a Sacred Deer is nothing short of a revelation. I have seen Keoghan in a few projects, but it was only in this film that I found myself utterly enthralled by his captivating control of character, and his raw ability to do something utterly extraordinary with the character that left me deeply upset and utterly fascinated.

There are two thematic and artistic elements that make The Killing of a Sacred Deer such an incredibly unique film, both of which work together to create something extraordinary. The first is the absurdity of the film. There is no way to deny that The Killing of a Sacred Deer is an unbelievably absurd film, and despite its very bleak and disturbing premise, it retains one element that has persisted throughout Lanthimos’ career and been evident in all of his previous films: acidly dark comedy. Lanthimos is a jester of a filmmaker, someone who relishes in putting audiences in the uncomfortable position of being presented with a demented, gloomy and unsettling representation of humanity, and being dared to laugh at such a misanthropic display. The Killing of a Sacred Deer is by no means a funny film, yet Lanthimos extracts the unexpected humor from the terrifying situations the characters find themselves in by often focusing on the inconsequential minutiae of the moment that is rarely represented in the arts – how often does a man, in the face of his children perishing in a truly painful manner, asks his wife to make mashed potatoes for dinner? This is one of several instances where The Killing of a Sacred Deer challenges the conventions of the narrative and creates something undeniably unconventional. Much of this film requires a certain suspension of disbelief, because seeking answers in a Lanthimos film is a futile exercise, as his films clearly are made with the intention of asking more questions than they answer. The rigidity of this film and the performances may be misinterpreted as being overly-pretentious arthouse pandering, but it is absurd filmmaking at its finest, a character-driven dark comedy that would make Luis Buñuel extremely proud.

The second element that went into making The Killing of a Sacred Deer such an extraordinarily complex film is the psychological aspects of the narrative. There are very few films that kept me this tense and uncomfortable throughout (it achieves the level of utter discomfort that not even mother! could reach, but not for lack of trying), and it becomes clear that Lanthimos once again finds enjoyment in taunting the audience, placing them in this unbearably demented world, occupied by malevolent characters that lack any morals or empathy for humanity, and creates a Kafkaesque labyrinth from which there seems to be no clear escape. The Killing of a Sacred Deer is distressingly difficult, a film that is alarming in its approach to representing this story. It places characters in warped versions of the hypothetical questions we as the audience often ask ourselves, almost appearing like a demented and corrupted Sophie’s Choice. The way in which Lanthimos approaches the human psyche is truly astonishing, and his ability to create such an uncanny and terrifying world out of situations that are not too detached from what we can recognize, but warped just enough to appear unsettling, is truly extraordinary and proves that Lanthimos is one of our most promising living artists, someone who has a relentless control of the audience, being able to manipulate them into feeling certain emotions in a way that is entirely exploitative and utterly brilliant.

In terms of understanding the human psyche, Lanthimos is one of the foremost cinematic authorities. If I may make a brief diversion, many cinephiles are intent on discovering the “next Kubrick”, trying to find a filmmaker that could fit the description of Stanley Kubrick’s natural heir (why such a filmmaker needs to exist is beyond me), and while I do find these comparisons tiring and taut, I do want to briefly address them, because there seems to be some key element that exists in “the next Kubrick” that no filmmaker seems to have reached (or perhaps it is because every filmmaker has their own artistic merits and to compare him or her to a predecessor invalidates their unique contributions). There are a number of filmmakers that I have seen compared to Kubrick – Jonathan Glazer has the audacious concepts, Christopher Nolan (a filmmaker whose association with Kubrick makes me shudder in discomfort) has the cerebral big-budget aesthetic, and Paul Thomas Anderson has the control of narrative, and the ability to create towering worlds within the most confined internal spaces. They all lack the one element that Kubrick had, and which Lanthimos seems to display as well: the bleak understanding of the human condition. Lanthimos creates characters that are absurd and seemingly unrealistic, but yet still manage to avoid archetype or cliche, rather challenging their artifice until they become unsettlingly realistic and an uncomfortable representation of what humanity actually looks like, and how the human condition makes us act according to the circumstances. The way in which this film demands attention is indicative of Lanthimos’ relentlessly shocking and profoundly beautiful understanding of the smallest nuances of human nature. This is what Lanthimos offers to the modern cinematic landscape, and while I resent the implication that he is the successor to Kubrick, he does possess that rare quality that was present through Kubrick’s career, which has seemingly gone completely unheralded. In many ways, Lanthimos improves upon this quality to the point where it can be considered the cornerstone of his artistic career, and proof of his undeniable talents as a filmmaker.

Finally, let’s talk about the visual aesthetic (because would it really be a complete review if I didn’t talk about the visual aesthetic of a film?), The Killing of a Sacred Deer is a complex masterwork of intricate filmmaking conventions, or rather the lingering destruction of those conventions. Lensed by European arthouse maestro Thimios Bakatakis, The Killing of a Sacred Deer has its bleak subject matter buttressed by the arid visuals that occur throughout – uncomfortable long-shots are occupied by nihilistic conversations, and the extreme close-ups force the viewer into closer contact with the disturbing subject matter. As said before, The Killing of a Sacred Deer takes place in an uncanny world, one that is so familiar, yet so warped and manipulated in how recognizable it is, we cannot help but feel entirely disconcerted by the bewildering environment. The visual aesthetic of The Killing of a Sacred Deer does not help the case to separate Lanthimos from Kubrick, as the same symmetrical horror exists in this film, with spotless halfways and impeccable living spaces replacing the squalid basements and bloody chambers of conventional horror films (and even when this film’s third act does feature a dungeon of sorts, it is a deceptively subversive representation of what is popularly represented as a sub-terranean domestic prison). However, it is distinctive and strangely beautiful, and truly an extraordinary way of representing this disturbing story.

The Killing of a Sacred Deer is a masterful display of deeply psychotic melodrama, filled with hopelessly dark comedy and sheer terror in its representation of the psyche. It is shown to be a deeply unnerving character-study, with the roles brought to life by an exquisite cast, featuring Colin Farrell at his most complex, Nicole Kidman at her most icy and a star-making turn from Barry Keoghan, who is certainly part of the next generation of effortlessly talented actors. I found The Killing of a Sacred Deer to be an extraordinary film, one that left me positively bewildered and deeply shaken. The way in which Yorgos Lanthimos challenges the human condition, showing humanity as a relentlessly selfish, inherently immoral institution, driven by our own desires and vengeful spirit, is truly remarkable and proves that Lanthimos is not only one of the most promising directors of the current generation, but also an invaluable, scathingly-profound social critic, able to make highly-disquieting meditations on humankind and its multiple flaws. The Killing of a Sacred Deer is a terrific film, and certainly one of the very best of the year. A daunting and perplexing portrait of ourselves, shown through the lens of a loose re-telling of an Ancient Greek myth, I adored this film and found it to be one of the most audacious, most bold representations of humanity ever committed to screen, and a recklessly brilliant piece of social commentary and postmodern art. Truly a magnificent, but deeply unsettling, film.