Review: MEN

Harper has fled a traumatising breakup for a recuperative fortnight of relaxation in the lush woody countryside. As she is given the tour by the posh and slightly edgy owner we see some of the moments of what she has escaped. They get increasingly violent. She takes immediate advantage of the nearby woods for mild exploratory exercise, pausing to enjoy some singing echoes in a disused brick underpass. A figure of a man appears in the distant arch at the other end. He sees her and begins to run toward her. She runs until she gets back home and takes refuge in a face time call with old reliable friend Riley. Behind her, through the glass doors we see the figure from the underpass, naked gold skinned. His concentration on her intensifies until he is trying to break the front door down. It's going to be a weird two weeks in the country.

Alex Garland brings us a bizarre modern fable of male violence and the self-entitlement that fuels it. Where his adaptation of Annihilation and the original Ex Machina took him to a hover space between science fiction and horror, Men veers closer to body or sex horror, intentionally recalling Repulsion or David Cronenberg at his most individual. Horror buffs are calling foul but in the same way they did with The Babadook (which had a similarly misleading trailer) but Men ends up more as a contemplation or essay than a freakish horror tale, keeping generic tropes at arm's length to the film's betterment.

Jessie Buckley brings a strong fragility to her job of fending off the circle of sweat, grimaces, charm and grunts and manages to find the reality that qualifies the Little Red Riding Hood innocence. The choice she makes at the start is done from self-preservation, not spite. I fear that this might too easily be mistaken for ice queen detachment, even when seen as a response to her monstrous husband. Paapa Essiedu in the latter role appears in framing and flashback scenes and is only seen in extreme states which is how Harper remembers him. 

But the show must go to the massively versatile Rory Kinnear who plays all the men in the village from the Vicar, the posh landlord, the yobs at the pub and more down to the scowling schoolboy at the church. This does not come across as a nod to Alec Guinness' multiple roles in Kind Hearts and Coronets or Peter Sellars' turns in Dr Strangelove as it's steered much closer to likeness despite the outward appearances. But that's not to say that his performance is all digital effects and line reading. His characters are distinct and discrete parts of a whole. I almost spoiled the climax but have thought better even of being vague about it as it's too startling to know it's coming.

I can say as much about most of the film and the urge to blurt it all out is strong. However, I'll leave it here with the suggestion that if you do mind your symbolic action to be heavy handed (as it is intentionally here) and like tidily tied narrative knots, then this is one to miss. If, on the other hand, you veer toward adventurous thinking and are prepared for some potentially triggering moments, you might well enjoy it. Men is not trying to be a mainstream drama and, despite the contrariness of that motion, it is not weirdness for its own sake, either. A definition-defier, it is its own beast, a grotesquery in a field of clones, Men gets my huffing recommendation.