Kinds of Kindness (Yorgos Lanthimos)

The Art of Cruel Reflection

Amir Siadat

Raymond, by repeatedly interrupting Robert and asking him to leave and return before continuing the conversation (or to speak once while standing and once while sitting), is somehow designing the mise-en-scène. It’s as if he’s also conveying something about the director's visual style and logic to the audience. It seems that, at the same time, he is revealing something about the director's perspective and approach. He directs his man however he pleases, making unusual requests that seem beyond comprehension, leaving Robert unsure of the reasoning behind them. Robert is confused, not understanding why his “director” asks him to repeat his dialogue in different ways. As a viewer, I share in Robert’s confusion, but I realize that if the director had not done this, I would not still remember this scene two months after watching the film! Lanthimos' cinema fascinates me, even though I don’t find deep or profound meanings in it. In fact, I believe his works often reveal traces of an allegorical and reductive mindset, where the complex mysteries of the outside world are simplified into direct manifestations and allusions through his lens. In the first part of Kinds of Kindness, it seems that he captures all the societal dos and don’ts shaped by political, religious, and economic forces in the character of Raymond. He portrays a chaotic world where, no matter how hard the subordinate tries to maintain their dignity, they cannot escape the role assigned to them by the system of power. The second part is a story about the fear of change: Daniel resists change and refuses to accept that things have evolved and time has altered his relationship with Liz. Over time, Liz has changed, and her love has left Daniel’s heart, never to return—even if she offers him her finger and liver. It’s not surprising that Daniel might connect his longing for Liz with the death of a woman, because what he truly desires is not Liz herself but her image freed from the constraints of time—or, in other words, her ghost. The third part, which features more twists and a less dramatic structure than the previous sections, brings me back to the points I made at the beginning of this text. It feels as though Lanthimos extended the film beyond the credits and the ridiculous single dance, arriving at a tragic moment to joke with the audience who believed that exaggerated happy ending. On the other hand, Lanthimos reconnects with Raymond once more, this time more subtly (wasn’t Raymond insistent on exposing his actor to danger?). Perhaps Lanthimos, as an artist, doesn't mind if his approach mirrors the cruel and unkind world he has consistently portrayed in his films.