Tag Archives: Jesse Plemons

APOCRYPHA CANDIDATE: BUGONIA (2024)

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DIRECTED BY:

FEATURING: , , Aidan Delbis

PLOT: Aided by his autistic cousin, a troubled man kidnaps a corporate executive, certain she is an Andromedan alien in disguise.

Still from Bugonia (2025)

WHY IT MIGHT JOIN THE APOCRYPHA: Since it improves on its canonically weird source material in every way (except ability to surprise), it has to be Apocrypha worthy, mathematically speaking.

COMMENTS: At first, Jesse Plemons’ Teddy seems like a relatively normal guy, even if his stringy, greasy red hair suggests a serious disinterest in hygiene. He is at least sympathetic in the way he takes care of his mentally-challenged cousin Don; that is, until he convinces Don to join him in undergoing chemical castration, so that the pair can resist temptation and better focus at the task at hand. Their goal? Nothing less than saving humanity from the machinations of our secret alien overlords. Their method? Kidnapping pharmaceutical CEO and “TIME” magazine covergirl Michelle Fuller. Teddy’s studies of subtle morphological clues have convinced him that Fuller is a high-ranking alien. After the abduction, the pair shave her head (to prevent her from using hair-based technology to signal for help) and slather her in antihistamine cream to dampen her psychic powers. The captured Michelle tries to use the powers of persuasion that serve her in the corporate world to threaten and cajole her way out of captivity, repeatedly asking to enter into a dialogue, ready to come to the bargaining table. But Teddy is prepared for her tricks; he’s anticipated every objection and rhetorical tactic she might try. If she tries to convince him he’s out of touch with reality… well, that’s exactly the tack an alien would take. He will accept nothing less than a full confession and an agreement to take Don and him with her on her spaceship at the lunar eclipse to meet her superiors and negotiate the Andromedans’ withdrawal from Earth. The canny Michelle adjusts her strategy to try to find a way to manipulate Teddy from inside his own warped reality. A clue suggesting a shared backstory between the two may provide the leverage she needs. A long second act of psychological cat and mouse games ensues, with the tension effectively relieved by laugh-out-loud moments from clueless Don.

The movie begins with the buzzing of bees from Teddy’s apiary, and the specter of extinction permeates the entire story. Chemicals from Michelle’s corporation may literally be responsible for a recent plague of colony collapse disorder. In Teddy’s view, aliens use humanity in the same way he uses his beehives to extract honey, with humanity no more conscious of their exploitation than his bees are. The problem, as he sees it, is that the aliens have no interest in the generational welfare of humans. As crazy he appears, Teddy ultimately has a point. Whether Michelle is an alien emissary or just a corporate overlord, she leeches off humanity; Andromedan or MBA, she’s a masterful manipulator who ultimately has only her own interests in mind. Teddy’s foil-on-the-windows paranoia may be misplaced, and may lead him to adopt inhumane methods, but his intuition about the imminent collapse of civilization strikes a chord.

Bugonia is Lanthimos’ most straightforward film since The Favourite. For most of the runtime, the story is grounded in reality, if reality of an extreme and outlandish flavor. He seems to have largely abandoned the affected, affectless acting that characterized The Lobster and Killing of a Sacred Deer: thankfully so, as it would have been a crime to hamper Plemons and Stone. (Aidan Delbis, an actor who is actually on the autism spectrum, does provide stilted line deliveries, but they are character-based and attributable to his neurological condition.) Lanthimos also restrains himself from adding the random ultra-wide fisheye lens shots that have proved distracting in his later films. Jerskin Fendrix’s score features the brief bursts of dissonant string quartet music the director is fond of, but the director mostly restricts himself to classical cinematic grammar here. He even uses needle drops from Chapell Roan and Green Day, pop flourishes that would have seemed unthinkably mainstream in his previous outings. He dabbles in some brief surrealism for two black and white flashbacks (that quote from ), and the production design in the final segment earns the appellation “bizarre,” but these pieces are not to really enough to brand the movie as obviously, stylistically weird. Rather, it’s the confluence of outrageous plotting and matter-of-fact adherence to the film’s psychotic worldview that creates the sense of strangeness here. Despite Lanthimos working in a stripped-down, more approachable mode, the material allows him to indulge his love of nihilistic plot twists. Parts will make you squirm, and parts will fill you with moral horror. The closing montage, scored to Marlene Dietrich singing “Where Have All the Flowers Gone?,” ends things on as beautifully bleak of a Lanthimosian note as could ever be imagined: a deep cynicism undercut by a yearning melancholy that testifies to the director’s genuine, bereaved humanism.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“…the characters might be demented, but Bugonia is a crueller, funnier, sharper proposition, more grounded and gritty than the wigged-out weirdness of the film on which it is based.”–Wendy Ide, The Observer (contemporaneous)

APOCRYPHA CANDIDATE: KINDS OF KINDNESS (2024)

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DIRECTED BY: Yorgos Lanthimos

FEATURING: , Emma Stone, Willem Dafoe, , Hong Chau, Mamoudou Athie

PLOT: A triptych of twisted modern fables from Yorgos Lanthimos: a boss dictates every aspect of his employee’s life; after his missing wife returns, a police officer suspects that she’s been replaced by a close copy; two cult members search for their messiah.

Still from Kinds of Kindness (2024)

WHY IT MIGHT JOIN THE APOCRYPHA: It’s narrative unpredictability from Hollywood’s foremost Greek surrealist, with trice the weirdness. John McEnroe’s broken racket will be gifted (and stolen), Emma Stone will cry “lick me again!” (not what you think), and dogs will (mostly) have a blast on the beach.

COMMENTS: With Kinds of Kindness, Yorgos Lanthimos seems intent on jettisoning any casual fans who might have come on board with Poor Things. Reuniting Lanthimos with screenwriting collaborator Efthimis Filippou, and shot several months after the hit fantasy with much of the same cast, Kindness was knocked out in a spiffy three weeks. Featuring murder, abortion, cannibalism, roofies, canine supremacy, and other kinds of bad behavior, the kindness-free Kindness works as a bitter palette cleanser for the frothy and sweet (by Lanthimos standards) Poor Things.

The three tales are linked by one “R.M.F.,” a peripheral character whose lends his name to all three titles. The stories range in tone from absurdist to magical realist, with digressions into genuine surrealism, but their dim view of core human behavior brings everything together. This time, Lanthimos steers away from stylistic excesses—no affectless acting, no ultra-wide lenses, no baroque sets—and lets the stories’ bizarre high concepts carry the weight. The director takes advantage of everyman Plemmons, a new addition to what is fast becoming a regular troupe, putting him front and center in the first two stories. In “The Death of R.M.F.” Plemmons is an exceptionally needy employee hiding behind a mustache, while “R.M.F. Is Flying” sees his cop descend into a paranoia that slowly transforms him into the coldest-hearted of bastards. Stone plays a key roles, especially in “Flying”—particularly her monologue about what happened to her when she was stranded on a deserted island, which, with its followup in the midpoint credits, lands as Kindness‘ most out-there moment—but really takes the spotlight for the finale, “R.M.F. Eats a Sandwich.” There she plays the more obsessive of two traveling cult members on the messiah candidate-vetting circuit, who also has a troubled relationship with the child and husband she left behind to pursue this strange vocation. She drives a purple muscle car like a maniac and gets a Lanthimos-trademark weirdo dance scene. Dafoe and Qualley (and to a lesser extent, Chau and Athie) add fine support as they drift through the trilogy of tales, possessing the bodies of various characters as needed.

If there is a complaint, it’s that, while each story stands on its own at about 45 minutes, watching them back-to-back-to-back can be a bit trying. There’s little relief from the dour atmosphere. (It would work brilliantly as a three-episode miniseries.) But that’s a mighty small disclaimer, given the uncommon bounty here: literate absurdism delivered by a top-notch, thoroughly dedicated cast and crew.

There is a common theme running through the each of these parables: unthinking obedience, the willingness of people to commit any atrocity in exchange for a sense of belonging. This makes it a sly political allegory for our times. Kinds of Kindness could be set in any era, but it speaks to just how horrible it is to be alive in 2024.

Kinds Of Kindness - Blu-ray + Digital
  • Kinds of Kindness is a triptych fable following a man without choice who tries to take control of his own life, a policeman who is alarmed that his wife who was missing-at-sea has returned and seems a different person, and a woman determined to find a specific someone with a special ability who is destined to become a prodigious spiritual leader.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“Director Yorgos Lanthimos trips over himself reconnecting with his inner freak in ‘Kinds of Kindness,’ a frustrating triptych that works hard to reconfirm his weirdo cred after he experienced a pair of mainstream successes.”–Adam Graham, The Detroit News (contemporaneous)

APOCRYPHA CANDIDATE: I’M THINKING OF ENDING THINGS (2020)

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DIRECTED BY:

FEATURING: , , , , Guy Boyd

PLOT: A young woman goes on a trip to meet her new boyfriend’s parents at their farmhouse on a night when a blizzard is brewing; the night grows increasingly strange and unsettling as it becomes unclear what is real and what is imaginary.

Still from I'm Thinking of Ending Things
I’m Thinking of Ending Things. Guy Boyd as Janitor in I’m Thinking of Ending Things. Cr. Mary Cybulski/NETFLIX © 2020

WHY IT MIGHT JOIN THE APOCRYPHA: By the time the pig shows up at Jake’s old high school, it becomes apparent that this maze of awkward interactions, faulty memories, and uncertain identities may just be Charlie Kaufman’s most surreal film.

COMMENTS: The first inkling that something is not quite right in I’m Thinking of Ending Things comes when the young woman (who is first introduced as “Lucy,” although it turns out that may not be her real name) thinks to herself, “I’m thinking of ending things.” “Huh?,” says Jake (that is his real name), from the driver’s seat. Can he hear her thoughts? She denies speaking. “Weird,” says Jake. “Yeah,” she answers.

Things will get weirder. She’s unsure why she wants to break up with him. Her backstory doesn’t add up. And she’s getting a lot of phone calls, which she’s not answering. When they arrive to meet Jake’s parents at their remote farmhouse, things get even stranger. As it turns out, Jake’s parents would creep out Henry Spencer‘s in-laws. Dinner is uncomfortable, full of small talk that often sounds like hidden accusations, and—once more—competing backstories that contradict each other. Jake’s parents age, almost before her eyes… Nothing explicitly supernatural or menacing happens, but the creaky farmhouse emanates a horror movie vibe, intensified by Jake’s passive-aggressive insistence that his girlfriend stay out of the basement. Meanwhile, Lucy—or whatever her name is—anxiously suggests that Jake take her home before the coming blizzard snows them in and traps her there.

Charlie Kaufman‘s latest mind-massager is another intensely subjective and literate tour of the lonely corridors of the mind, where nothing is as it seems. It’s one of his strangest offerings— particularly when it reaches an irrational finale that departs from the source novel—but perhaps what distinguishes it the most is the exceptional ensemble acting, best seen in the four-way sparring at the dinner table. Their expressions are priceless: Collette smiling to herself at private jokes only she can hear, Thewlis aggressively incredulous at the idea that a landscape could appear sad, Plemmons understandably embarrassed by his parent’s odd behavior, and trying to coax his girlfriend into revealing the correct details about how they met. We expect accomplished performances from those three celebrated actors, but relative newcomer Jessie Buckley is a revelation. She mutates throughout the film, portraying everything from a nervous recalcitrant girlfriend to an angry feminist to an apparent victim of very early-onset Alzheimer’s. She even slips into a Pauline Kael impression. Remarkable.

As with all the best trips, it’s the journey that’s most memorable, not the destination. There is a reveal at the end, but the twist, while satisfying, is hardly the point. Each scene is structured as an individually confounding moment: on the long ride there and back, Jake and his girlfriend discuss everything from the human experience of time, bad movies as viruses, with citations to Wordsworth, David Foster Wallace, Guy Debord, and musical theater (familiarity with “Oklahoma!” will enrich your experience). Jake says he like road trips because “it’s good to remind yourself that the world’s larger than the inside of your own head”—but does the movie believe this thesis? As they travel, the couple learn less about each other, and more about the slipperiness of human memory, fantasy, and identity.  It’s Kaufman’s favorite theme: the loneliness of our inherent interiority. The paradox is that our inescapable subjectivity is the one thing we all share and bond over.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“If that sounds confusing, or even downright hostile to the audience, well, that describes the Charlie Kaufman experience… There’s a weird thrill to getting lost inside this movie, only so you can study every odd detail from new angles, over and over again.”–David Sims, The Atlantic (contemporaneous)