Over the past fifteen years (slightly more if you were one of the forward-thinking viewers who leapt onto his wavelength earlier in his career), Yorgos Lanthimos has steadily risen from the depths of the Greek Weird Wave to the status as one of the most genuinely exciting, talented filmmakers of his generation, and someone who is coveted by an industry that is gradually losing many of its most original directorial voices. There are many qualities that define his work. Still, their bespoke nature is perhaps the most important, particularly in how they established Lanthimos as someone with a very unique vision that defies all logic and is proudly immune to any external tinkering. In the last few years, he has taken advantage of his growing stature, directing a number of terrific films that are all different, but share a few common qualities that bind them together under the director’s fascinating style, and his most recent offering is also a slight departure from a lot of what he has been doing over the past decade. Kinds of Kindness is Lanthimos’ first endeavour into anthology filmmaking, which is in itself an endangered form of filmmaking that is usually seen as a more boutique style of storytelling as far as contemporary cinema tends to go, telling three stories that are only loosely connected, following various characters as they face existential crises and deal with carnal cravings that imply something much deeper is lurking beneath the surface. They include a mild-mannered office worker who finds himself under the control of his dictatorial boss, a volatile police officer who suspects his wife is not who she says she is after she returns from a catastrophic research mission, and a pair of members of a sex cult who scramble to earn back the respect of their leaders after a brief lapse in judgment. Connected in ways we don’t expect, and driven by the same sense of philosophical anarchy that is found in most of the director’s work, Kinds of Kindness is a peculiar film, developed from the demented minds of some of the most daring artists working today, ultimately proving to be a triumph of off-the-wall filmmaking that is as unsettling as it is fascinating.

Kinds of Kindness consists of a trio of stories, which Lanthimos as described as a “triptych fable”, and at a cursory glance it isn’t entirely clear what connects the three stories, outside of the same cast of actors appearing in each, as well as a recurring character that plays minor roles in each one of them. Rather than being related in terms of superficial settings or more obvious themes, these stories are connected by way of a kind of philosophical pondering, focusing on something that Lanthimos hasn’t explored in quite a while, namely the perpetual and methodical decline of society. Much of his earlier work was based squarely around these themes, and even the more recent films had it factoring into their narrative in some way or another. However, this is still one of his most pointed works in terms of how it underlines what he perceives to be a steady decline of the human condition, which has grown more lustful in its cravings as hedonism has gone from a cardinal sin to something that is actively encouraged by a consumerist society, one built on instant gratification and fluidity of identity, both of which Lanthimos doesn’t necessarily perceive as inherently harmful on their own, but when coupled with the egocentric nature of our species, it can spiral out of control. Lanthimos strips away any semblance of humanity in these characters, reducing them to nothing more than animalistic, barbaric entities driven solely by their desires, which manifests in pure visceral chaos that he views as being the ultimate downfall of humanity. The connective tissue between the three stories in Kinds of Kindness is essentially a complete incredulity towards decency and decorum, something that he finds oddly quite entertaining. Watching this film is akin to observing an extraordinarily intelligent madman rambling about the broken promises of a culture in which everyone is supposedly united under a common goal, but which has become too unwieldy for any known institution to contain, which results in this explosion of pure anarchy.

However, as appealing as it is to look at it as merely an expression of disdain for humanity and its tendency towards excessive expressions of carnal desire, Kinds of Kindness is much deeper, and we find that Lanthimos is making some fascinating observations around a range of different subjects. Much of this comes in the content that he is exploring – it is a return to a contemporary setting (his previous two films were both set in the past) and looks at themes that are recognizable to all of us, particularly in how these appear to be relatively conventional stories of ordinary people going about their daily routine. Each of the three segments are perfectly self-contained short films on their own, and can be viewed in isolation – “The Death of R.M.F.” is a satire of corporate culture and how we will go to any lengths to appease those who are essentially responsible for funding our lifestyle, while “R.M.F. is Flying” is a brutal deconstruction of placid domesticity and how even the most pleasant of suburban households have secrets that can gradually envelope someone and cause a decline in their sanity the moment they notice that nothing is quite as perfect as it appears at first, and “R.M.F. Eats a Sandwich” (the longest segment in the film) satirizes relationship dynamics and even alludes to influencer culture, where normal people find their grip on reality slipping as a result of their growing dependency on those whose entire existence is based around a particular brand, to which everything has to be strictly followed, and those who don’t adhere are seen as unfaithful or incapable of maintaining the status quo. Each one of these themes is enshrouded in thick layers of outrageous absurdism, so their underlying messages are not immediately clear, and Lanthimos seems to relish in concealing the themes, scattering them throughout the film and putting the viewer in a position where we are constantly on a perverted scavenger hunt, scrambling to find the answers to the enigmas that populate this already bizarre and offbeat dark comedy.

Kinds of Kindness serves as both a reunion for some actors with Lanthimos, and an introduction to his universe for others. In terms of the returning collaborators, Emma Stone makes her fourth film with the director, which is quite impressive considering she has become slightly more selective with the work she does, with four of her last five projects being helmed by Lanthimos, who sees her as his muse and someone with whom he has a strong working relationship. Oddly enough, as terrific as she is (especially in the last segment), Stone is quite subdued here, playing into the inherent weirdness of the story and proving to be a perfect match for the director’s style, but also not forcing herself to the forefront, instead realizing that the other actors arguably have the more interesting roles. The heart of the film is Jesse Plemons, who has also been amassing quite an impressive body of work, and who makes his way into Lanthimos’ universe by playing three distinct characters that play to all of his strengths, and force him to showcase his immense versatility as an actor. Plemons disappears into every one of these parts and delivers stellar work that is impressive even to those who have already bought into the narrative that he is a deeply talented actor. Willem Dafoe previously made his first collaboration with the director on Poor Things (which contained one of his most sensitive, sincere performances to date), and it seemed inevitable that he’d be a valued addition to Lanthimos’ coterie of regular actors. Kinds of Kindness has him portraying three very bizarre individuals, each one built from Dafoe’s inherent sinister charms, and while there is a lot of heart even when he is playing to the rafters, we are reminded just how brilliantly he can portray a villain that is much more complex than we would expect. Margaret Qualley (another returning alumnus), Joe Alwyn and Hong Chau round out the main cast, each of them having terrific moments and proving themselves to be valuable supporting players in a film that only benefits from their active engagement with the material. A strong ensemble is vital to the success of such a film, especially since so much of the narrative depends on the viewer suspending disbelief, and their performances are uniformly quite excellent, adding nuances where there previously was very little, adding even more depth to this fascinating film.

Those venturing into Kinds of Kindness expecting something along the lines of what Lanthimos has done in the recent past are bound to be quite surprised since this is by far one of his most harrowing and cynical works to date. He reunites with Efthimis Filippou, who worked with him as a co-writer on films like Dogtooth and The Killing of a Sacred Deer, both of which are far bleaker and more disturbing than many of his more recent works, which may also be defined by their absurdist tendencies, but ultimately do tend to have a slight sense of hope lingering beneath the surface, or at least don’t lean into being deeply unnerving depictions of the human condition and how it is slowly destroying itself from within, which was something that the writers fixated upon in these earlier works. It is refreshing to see Lanthimos set aside the hopefulness for something more harrowing since this is arguably the area in which he has found the most success, at least in terms of pushing the boundaries of the medium. Every one of these three stories is filled with a blend of unsettling dark comedy and profoundly disturbing imagery – the violence and sexuality alone are quite intense, and while he has never been afraid to show either, it’s not the visual representation of these elements that make them so unhinged, but rather how they are psychologically quite invasive, settling into our minds and pushing us to the very limit of our sanity, while also forcing us to question our handle on reality, which is quite a daunting experience, even when presented by someone who produces genuinely intriguing work. This film is fueled by a sense of genuine dread, with the director piecing together the various fragments to create this bizarre, satirical glimpse into a society on the verge of collapse. There’s very little room for optimism in this film, which is far more concerned with the underlying themes, which are buried in layers of hopeless commentary – but the fact that Lanthimos was still able to filter this all through the lens of a comedy (albeit one that is as bleak and harrowing as it could be) shows that he is still capable of the same masterful techniques that established him as such a masterful voice in the first place.

By no means is Kinds of Kindness the director’s best work, and it is a film that contains some of his more peculiar choices, which essentially means that we are constantly kept at a distance, which is quite a radical change of pace for the more immersive experiences we have with Lanthimos’ other films, which are built on our willingness to leap into these worlds and explore them alongside these characters. There is an argument to be made that the three stories in this film are all half-baked ideas for feature-length works that Lanthimos and Filippou quite simply could not work into standalone films (especially since they’re written with the same register as The Killing of a Sacred Deer, insofar as they’re all infused with a kind of folklore about the human experience and our relationship to our surroundings), and which they simply reconfigure into an anthology film, which would not be the first instance of using the structure to tell stories that may not have been feasible on their own, but do work in conjunction with other similar tales. Yet, we can’t deny the impact made by the oscillation between the bleak and the whimsical – nothing quite makes sense in this film, but that’s all on purpose, with the majority of what makes Kinds of Kindness unique being its refusal to adhere to artistic patterns or any kind of narrative status quo. It’s a strange, off-putting experience designed to be genuinely misanthropic, placing the viewer in a position where we are constantly made to be uncomfortable. There are several moments of sheer revulsion scattered liberally throughout, and the constant awkward humour does not alleviate the tension in any conceivable way. Lanthimos has steadily been integrating himself into the mainstream over the years, so it’s refreshing to see that that bleak, curmudgeonly version still exists and that he is more ambitious and daring than ever. Bold, deranged and engaging, Kinds of Kindness is an acquired taste, and all the proof we need that creative discomfort can be artistically resonant and genuinely quite entertaining when it is done correctly.