Men really ARE the worst

Alex Garland's latest film confounds and confuses

Alex Garland’s directorial work - or, rather, its purported genius - has always eluded me. Ex Machina, his breakout debut, was hailed for its visual effects and fresh take on the future of artificial intelligence, but I found it to be a tight yet perhaps superficial indie darling. Annihilation seemed to push his fans’ tolerance, as it famously flopped at the box office. While a messier experience overall, it certainly had grander thematic and cinematic ambitions. Both are good films, but neither quite justify Garland’s status among the top indie filmmakers of the modern era. After a brief hiatus (and a Hulu limited series that I admittedly haven’t watched), Garland returns to A24 and his roots - a more or less domestic thriller with a limited cast. Hoping to avoid the failure of his last film, A24 crafted the trailer for Men as it has for many elevated horror films in recent years: beautiful cinematography, suspenseful score, mysterious context. But Garland’s work yet again eludes me - Men fails to engage emotionally or psychologically in the ways that I wish it would.

A user on Letterboxd, who goes by the username BRAT, made an interesting observation: “Alex Garland is in his mother! era. make of that what you will.” I understand the sentiment - both mother! and Men were misleadingly advertised as conventional horror films - but I’m not sure if I entirely agree. I am a proud defender of Darren Aronofsky’s polarizing film, and a key difference here is that mother! wears its heart on its sleeve. Its obvious allegory was criticized relentlessly, but at least we therefore understood the intended impact of its strange and sometimes illogical imagery. Garland throws us overboard without so much as a life preserver. This is not to say that films should be straightforward and always promote a “message,” but what exactly are we meant to take away, if not conceptually, then emotionally, from this story? And calling the events of this film a “story” is a generous move on my part, as we are treated to a buildup that pays off with nothing more than bizarre and seemingly meaningless imagery.

We follow Harper on her solo holiday to the countryside while processing her feelings of grief and guilt over her husband’s suicide. There is phenomenal ambiguity in her situation, but it never really makes for an active protagonist. Most of Harper’s time is spent reflecting, crying, screaming, but never taking direct action. I have been a huge fan of Jessie Buckley’s since her magnetic performance in Chernobyl. I even felt that she outshined Olivia Coleman in their  shared role in The Lost Daughter. Sure enough, in a film even as directionless as this, Buckley still shines as the tortured widow. As the film progresses, Harper becomes increasingly disturbed by the men of this countryside town, all played by Rory Kinnear - you know, the guy who had to have sex with a pig on Black Mirror. Kinnear excels in these various roles - the sweet but naive owner of Harper’s holiday house, the apathetic police officer, the unsympathetic vicar. Through make-up, costuming, and performance, they all feel distinct, even when together in the same shot.

This casting novelty, coupled with the monosyllabic title, suggests that Garland is wrestling with the idea of Men, emphasis on the capital M, as a monolithic group. However, I’m not exactly sure what he is trying to say here with this framing. Perhaps his intention is to highlight the systems, consisting almost exclusively of men, that work in passive concert against women. But not only does that seem like a stretch, what does that have anything to do with the suicide of Harper’s husband, who is the only man NOT to be played by Kinnear. Is his action of taking his own life meant to reflect a power move that further perpetuates the aforementioned systems of control? I’m always happy to see Paapa Essiedu, but how does his being the only other male actor in the film complicate the themes that Garland wants to explore?

This murkiness also extends to the visual language of the film. Garland obviously has a vision, and his imagery is stunning, especially in the last sequence of the film. But so often the imagery here feels empty, or at the very least, unmotivated. Perhaps it is not the visuals that are murky, but the supporting material. I struggle to assign meaning or value of any kind to these striking moments, which, considering that these moments are the culmination of the film, leaves me with cinematic blue balls. I come back to my initial question - what has this all been really about?

Men is not without its strengths, and I’m sure that it will be received warmly by a select group of moviegoers, but Alex Garland’s filmography seems to become more and more impenetrable with every entry. In fact, his work has oftentimes felt like short form content that has been expanded for theatrical release. What does this film tell me or make me feel regarding the experience of being human? I’m sure that Garland is trying to say SOMETHING here, but what that is, I couldn’t begin to guess.

6/10 - Okay