I saw the film The Lobster
last night. This is an odd, dark comedy. And odder still, is the fact that I’m still thinking about it today. Most movies last about as long in my imagination as chewing gum. In this film, those who have lost their life partners to death or divorce have 45 days to find a new partner. If they fail to “fall in love” with the right person in that amount of time, they will be surgically transformed into the animal of their choice. (This solves the duel problem of too many people, and animals going extinct.) There’s a lot of hilarious truth in this scathing indictment of our "coupled-up" society. Our "modern" approach to love, sex, marriage, and propriety, has been taken to the next, absurd step. The film exposes our needy attempts to find similar “my-most-outstanding-characteristic” traits in the people we choose to love. Of course, in this film, couples find their partners based on shallow stupidities, like a mutual tendency toward nosebleeds, or shortsightedness, or limps. Thinking back on my Match.com experience, that’s not too far off. ("Here's what You have in common with your Match!") Our friends and families kind-heartedly tout acquaintances who have "so much in common" with us. Sometimes those similarities are slight to imaginary, but the desire to see singles become couples is nearly manic. And then there's dating, blind or otherwise, which is often a contrived intimacy fueled by wine, music, and a quiet dinner. In The Lobster, that contrivance is exaggerated with an uncomfortable "mixers" dance scene, replete with corny, romantic songs, a darkened room (the heavy curtains are drawn in mid-afternoon,) and desperation. It's funny and pathetic in the same breath. The “Loners” of this film are the brave escapees who are hunted down and transformed against their will. These Loners, with whom I at first identified, are as militaristic in their aloneness as the coupled are in their forced relationships. Loners who are suspected of flirting, have their lips cut off. (Shades of the Taliban, anyone?)
So, why is this theater-of-the-absurd comedy still haunting me? (And making me smile to myself) I, too, have found myself wanting to make up rules for my life: I either want a best friend “mate-for-the-rest-of-my-life” or I believe I must reject all romantic coupling and revel in my aloneness. This movie points out the absurdity (that word again) of choosing either rule-bound life path. Lately, I’ve come to believe my life is unfolding as it should. I’m choosing to find pleasure in my daily activities. Sometimes that means loving my independence, and sometimes that means finding pleasure in the company of others. Tomorrow, I may find love, but for today… my life is fine just the way it is. The Lobster isn’t for everyone. If you’re happy in your marriage, or you swear you will never get married again… stay home. But if you’ve ever signed up for Match.com or felt the pressure to be coupled… it’s pretty funny.
~ cfd
last night. This is an odd, dark comedy. And odder still, is the fact that I’m still thinking about it today. Most movies last about as long in my imagination as chewing gum. In this film, those who have lost their life partners to death or divorce have 45 days to find a new partner. If they fail to “fall in love” with the right person in that amount of time, they will be surgically transformed into the animal of their choice. (This solves the duel problem of too many people, and animals going extinct.) There’s a lot of hilarious truth in this scathing indictment of our "coupled-up" society. Our "modern" approach to love, sex, marriage, and propriety, has been taken to the next, absurd step. The film exposes our needy attempts to find similar “my-most-outstanding-characteristic” traits in the people we choose to love. Of course, in this film, couples find their partners based on shallow stupidities, like a mutual tendency toward nosebleeds, or shortsightedness, or limps. Thinking back on my Match.com experience, that’s not too far off. ("Here's what You have in common with your Match!") Our friends and families kind-heartedly tout acquaintances who have "so much in common" with us. Sometimes those similarities are slight to imaginary, but the desire to see singles become couples is nearly manic. And then there's dating, blind or otherwise, which is often a contrived intimacy fueled by wine, music, and a quiet dinner. In The Lobster, that contrivance is exaggerated with an uncomfortable "mixers" dance scene, replete with corny, romantic songs, a darkened room (the heavy curtains are drawn in mid-afternoon,) and desperation. It's funny and pathetic in the same breath. The “Loners” of this film are the brave escapees who are hunted down and transformed against their will. These Loners, with whom I at first identified, are as militaristic in their aloneness as the coupled are in their forced relationships. Loners who are suspected of flirting, have their lips cut off. (Shades of the Taliban, anyone?)
So, why is this theater-of-the-absurd comedy still haunting me? (And making me smile to myself) I, too, have found myself wanting to make up rules for my life: I either want a best friend “mate-for-the-rest-of-my-life” or I believe I must reject all romantic coupling and revel in my aloneness. This movie points out the absurdity (that word again) of choosing either rule-bound life path. Lately, I’ve come to believe my life is unfolding as it should. I’m choosing to find pleasure in my daily activities. Sometimes that means loving my independence, and sometimes that means finding pleasure in the company of others. Tomorrow, I may find love, but for today… my life is fine just the way it is. The Lobster isn’t for everyone. If you’re happy in your marriage, or you swear you will never get married again… stay home. But if you’ve ever signed up for Match.com or felt the pressure to be coupled… it’s pretty funny.
~ cfd
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