The Lobster – My Review

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What to say? The first half was delightful, absurdist black comedy, a Monty Python sketch stretched out across a world. But then…

I’m one of the most forgiving Americans you’ll find, enduring artsy/indie insanity like some Berlin sewer dweller. Ninety-five percent of Murricans aren’t going to appreciate or get The Lobster, and I almost do.

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But I think we have a disconnect from beginning to ending. I think a wire was cut, and the flow severed somewhere along the path. This is coming from someone who will argue for the consistency and unity of Tetsuo the Iron Man or Mulholland Drive. I’ll analyze eXistenZ right now, but I cannot overlook the logical short-circuit dragging down The Lobster.

No spoilers, but I’d say they stretched it past the breaking point and lost the intent. It also went cold, like a dead fish, when it should have heated up. Another missed opportunity. If only they’d insisted on an ending that sprang organically from the beginning. It’s not enough to say things about love; there needs to be some logical consistency. I’m a stickler for removing arbitrariness. I need an iron-clad purpose.

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Worst part is that it appears that they believed they nailed it. Blinded by their vision.

I think the first question to ask of any story is: how does that beginning lead to that ending?

 

 

 


 

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