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Not All Things to All Men


Men may be a bit too on the nose. As a concept at least it’s extremely blunt: what if you took all of the danger, the power, the judgement, the misogyny in each of its’ forms that men can culturally represent towards women and made it a literal monster -the classic horror boogeyman but it’s just all men. It’s a big idea and seems like the ultimate conceit of the socially conscious horror film. But it also seems a bit too easy, like it’s not hard to vilify men and toxic male behaviour.
However that’s what you typically bring in someone like Alex Garland for, to make it more clever, give some substance to the horror beyond stereotype, and maybe tap into a deeper unsettling truth. It’s what he did so brilliantly in Ex Machina, and what he pushes for here but not so comprehensively or to near the same effect. There are quite a few avenues in the horror of Men that are thematically or ideologically shallow, as creepy as they may be in execution. And yet it also is reaching for something heavier, some more primal notions suggested through a lot of sharp, provocative imagery that itself is quite compelling. I don’t know that it comes together though, that the meaning of the film amounts to any kind of radical statement, or that it is even much comprehensible beyond a few notable symbols of sexual or Biblical allusion.
It’s a fascinating experience regardless. The plot concerns a woman from London called Harper (Jessie Buckley) coming out to the countryside to recuperate from the traumatizing death of her emotionally abusive and suicidal husband, whom she was on the verge of divorcing. But eerie things begin happening, especially after a hike to an old railway tunnel, and every man in the quiet village -all played by Rory Kinnear- begin to stalk or act hostile towards her in increasingly mysterious and foreboding ways.
There’s a lot more to the movie than this, an ambiguous supernatural component as haunting as any of the suspense. As the film progresses it gets gradually more surreal and enigmatic in its imagery, its’ ideas -not too dissimilar to another Jessie Buckley film, I’m Thinking of Ending Things. But here though, while the exact nature of these things is left in question, the symbols really are not. For example, it doesn’t take much to interpret an old pagan altar in the church with explicit fertility designs on it or the symbolic significance of an apple tree on the premises of the holiday home Harper is staying in (her landlord Geoffrey even uses the phrase “forbidden fruit” in reference to it). Additionally, the tropes of misogyny that we see are rather blatant –there are no micro-aggressions, just aggressions- and surface-level in their malevolence. It might be most the case in James (Paapa Essiedu), Harper’s partner, whom we see through flashbacks expressing violent anger issues, threatening suicide very openly (to which Harper has to explain to him and the audience how that also is abuse), and at one point even hitting her. It’s got an almost Sleeping with the Enemy lack of subtlety to it: the kid in town with a Marilyn Monroe mask who calls Harper unprompted a bitch -whose behaviour is excused as just “troubled” by the local vicar who then proceeds to talk in seeming sympathy with Harper about her experience before blaming her for “driving” James to kill himself. And there is something curious to these latter incidents, how they are written and played, that suggests further inspection, but instead they become wrapped up in a less interesting, more general character of ‘Man’.
And it is just not a very compelling character, in fact it’s something of a reductive one, as much as Garland shrouds it in exquisite folk horror trappings. The last act reveals the movie’s hand in terms of a driving ideology around masculinity and sexism that attempts to tie these things to primal forces in a manner not terribly clean. Part of that comes from Garland’s refusal to clarify himself when it comes to this aspect of the movie, blurring the lines of metaphor and reality with such sharpness that he loses sight of what he is actually saying. He’s so concerned with a graphic visual illustration of toxic masculinity perpetuating itself for example, and yet he also insinuates misogyny as part of mans’ natural state, which inadvertently (and even advertently near the end) makes excuses for it. All the while, Harper and her pain don’t receive comparable scrutiny, the more you think on it, the more troublesome it is. And yet I don’t know that Garland is so focused on the statement as in what it allows him to do artistically with the film.
His strange, disturbing vision will surely last where the themes don’t, so it is an understandable impetus. The film gets a lot of mileage off of a creepy echo Harper made in the railway tunnel just before the first stalker emerged. This figure, the naked man, is a source of much of the movies’ freakiness, and in him Garland can simmer tension as well as anyone, especially as he wanders around outside Harper’s residence while she chats on the phone. There’s a degree of effective anti-suspense at work too and a string of stunningly-composed moments, there for their chilling vibe, such as all the apples falling from the tree, the reflection in the pool beneath the tunnel, and the recurring, broadening motif of Harper screaming. The final haunt creates many of these, upping the violence too with a creatively graphic mutilation. It’s but the tip of the iceberg though as the finale features a disarmingly bizarre and uncomfortably lengthy sequence of body horror that is one of the most unsettling things I’ve seen in a horror movie. That is part of its’ very pointed purpose no doubt, and I admire Garland for committing so hard to it, though I feel it doesn’t ultimately earn its’ excess –the end is a touch underwhelming.
That impression unfortunately sticks, although so do the qualities. Jessie Buckley gives yet another stunning performance, and in her own accent for a change; and Rory Kinnear I’ve been waiting to see get a showcase like this since Penny Dreadful (he doesn’t disappoint, each character for as thin as they are feels distinct and fully-formed). Their performances and Garland’s direction make it engaging and provoking …and yet I wonder how improved Men might be with a woman at the helm, or even on the script or in any other significant role in production. It is a movie about the horrors of men as told by men, which I think does blind some of its’ ambitions and good intentions. I could see more consideration, more nuance, and less problematic subtexts coming from someone like Jennifer Kent or Karyn Kusama. Still, Garland’s film is no doubt curious and shouldn’t be dismissed out of hand. It may not be the most accurate or articulate summation of Men, but the nature of its’ horrors aren’t entirely without merit.

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