KINETTA: Yorgos Lanthimos’s Humble, Idiosyncratic Beginnings

This review made possible by our friends at AFS! To see everything they’ve got coming up, visit their screenings page.

Rating: 🏢🏢

[Trailer]

Well … we all gotta start somewhere, I guess!

Kinetta is the solo debut feature from our favorite Greek Weird Wave director Yorgos Lanthimos, famous for his films The Lobster and The Favourite, both of which received Oscar nominations in 2015 and 2018, respectively. Although initially released in Greece back in 2005, Kinetta only recently got its U.S. premiere at the end of last year. Taking place in a desolate Hellenic seaside resort town, the baseline plot of the film revolves around three characters: a bearded photo store clerk, a masochistic hotel maid, and a man with a passion for BMW cars and Russian women. The three seem to be loosely connected, though the viewer never really finds out how. But we do know one thing: they share a common interest in reenacting and filming violent altercations. These scenes are stoically narrated and dominated by the BMW fanatic, with the maid playing the role of the often humiliated victim while the photo clerk is behind the camera. 

Despite the sound of the odd and somewhat fascinating plot, my viewing of Kinetta was challenging to say the least. It was so extremely bleak that it was borderline unbearable at times. There’s probably less than 15 minutes of actual dialogue throughout the entire film. It’s painfully slow-paced and aimless. It’s devoid of a concrete plot or any real character development, but perhaps that's deliberate? Every scene of someone eating a sandwich or staring off into nothingness—both of which there are quite a few—exudes a sense of existential ennui. I usually find films that show the beauty in the mundanity of everyday life particularly captivating, but here, it’s just pure meaninglessness. Let’s just say that I’ve never seen go-karting look more nihilistic and boring.

Regardless of what its title may imply, the only dynamic aspect of Kinetta would have to be how it’s shot. Much of the film is shot using a handheld camera, a contrast from the refined, static wide shots that would become popular in the Greek auteur’s later, more notable work. Though it’s interesting to note his use of this technique so early on in his career, the constant motion gets to be a bit disorienting as you try to figure out what exactly to be paying attention to on-screen. It’s almost as if cinematographer Thimios Bakatakis purposefully tries to obscure what’s most important in the scene from the viewer, which proves to be both intriguing and frustrating. Ultimately, though, there’s not much being said here. Or maybe there is, but I just have no idea what.

One thing I can credit is how many of Lanthimos’ cinematic trademarks are seen here in their early stages of development. Yes, there’s the muted color palette and the expectedly eerie atmosphere, but he particularly has a knack for creating these contained alternate universes that deviate ever so slightly from life as we know it, placing his characters within these strange worlds. He takes innately human gestures and interactions and portrays them as something foreign and lifeless. Every time characters in this film interact with one another, it’s as if I’m watching two shells of human beings, two alien life forms disguised as people trying to come off as being normal but ultimately failing to relate to one another. All of these potential vessels for human connection end up feeling robotic and void of anything genuine. 

In all honesty, I found myself zoning out towards the end, and before I knew it, it was over. A second viewing isn’t in the cards for me anytime soon, but in Kinetta, you can see Lanthimos establishing his visually provocative signatures from the very beginning of his creative career. Seeing where he began made me more appreciative of where he ended up going. Choose to endure this at your own risk, but just know that Kinetta walked so that Dogtooth could run.