Yorgos Lanthimos
Bugonia

I know I should start from the beginning, but I can’t help but do the opposite. After a first half bordering on perfection, in which the director managed to characterize his few characters in the best possible way and to create a remarkably ironic and surreal atmosphere, with a syncopated rhythm made up of slowdowns and sudden accelerations, I was sure the level would eventually drop. But this did not happen. Not even in the second part were there any dull moments.

The drama intensified with flashes of violence, like grains of salt on a well-cooked dish, and the work raced towards the epilogue with just the right dose of sarcasm, social criticism, and cynicism.

What, as soon as I left the theater, objectively pissed me off was that I felt like I’d witnessed a sort of visual suicide. As if a runner had reached the end of the straightaway with a clear lead over his pursuers and, instead of slowing down and taking in the applause, decided to take out a revolver and shoot himself in the face. Shit, all it would have taken was a fade-out on the image of the protagonist resting her head against the car window, then roll the credits, and we would have had a film that might even have surpassed "The Lobster".

I’m writing three days later and I have to admit I’ve changed my mind.

"Bugonia" is the latest work by Lanthimos: a film that confirms the director’s extraordinary qualities. His style is unmistakable — I’m referring to the visuals, the use of close-ups, the soundtrack, the “outside” shots, like the one capturing the protagonist’s kidnapping. The actors involved in this sort of theatrical pièce are essentially three, and I know everyone will praise Emma Stone and Jessie Plemons. Which at this point is like saying Everest and K2 are really tall. But I want to go against the grain and sing the praises of the third actor, who until that moment was unknown to me. Because embodying the fear of not feeling adequate and capable is a rare quality. That restlessness, represented by being a permanent prey to second-rate demagogues, is not at all easy to convey. In his nonverbal language, gestures, and facial expressions, he is sensational: we really get to see his slow and awkward thoughts tormenting him as he lets himself be led like a docile animal to the slaughter. His steps are slow and uncertain, because there’s a flicker of common sense making him hesitate, but he doesn’t have the strength to go further. Aidan Delbis is incredibly convincing and deserves sincere praise.

And so, the mini-demagogue and his cousin kidnap a successful manager at the peak of her career. They are convinced she is a terrifying Andromedan and want her to take them to their emperor, to convince him to abandon planet Earth forever and bring everything back to how it was in the old days, in the golden age, when life was not only easier but possible.

So as not to be dominated by the Andromedan and her powerful powers of persuasion, they tie her up, cut her hair—through which, of course, she would have communicated with the mothership—smear her with a cream that dulls her powers, interrogate her and then torture her. But they’re not dumb: before the kidnapping they decide to chemically castrate themselves, so as not to be bewitched or tricked by the attractiveness of the Andromedan, who, despite being 45, looks much younger.

They’ve trained hard for months: they’ve sworn revenge after the Andromedans made their mother and aunt sick and killed a slew of bees. But the cousins know what to do. They’ve researched, obviously not from the fake academic books and not by listening to the nonsense from the "experts" who brand them as crackpot fanatics and conspiracy theorists, but from the right videos, the ones the dumb, gullible masses disdainfully ignore. Because they know how the world really works.

As I was saying, it’s been three days since I saw it and I realized the director is right and I was wrong. I was expecting something different and I didn’t want to understand that surreal and hyperbolic ending, because I had given the film a more straightforward vibe and found it somewhat akin to Don't Look Up. The simple fact that the director managed to outwit me may have bothered me: that’s one way to read it, in fact I discussed it with my friend who went to the almost empty cinema with me.

Lanthimos uses a resounding and hilarious hyperbole to carve out a strong criticism focused on how unacceptable today’s concentration of power is. There is something inhuman, something Andromedan, in all of this.