Nimic

I couldn't stop thinking of "The house that Jack Built" while watching this short. The choice of music, Matt dillon himself who appears in both everything looked somehow familiar.

Perhaps the greatest strength of 'Nimic (2019)' is its ambiguity, which keeps you pondering its meaning long after its credits have rolled. Though I felt as though I had a pretty solid grasp on what was actually happening as I watched it, a conversation with my brother soon led me to realise that even the aspects I took for granted as being 'canon' are actually rife for interpretation. Furthermore, the underlying "why" of it all is firmly out of reach; it's impossible to know if it's meant to act as an allegory for something or if it's simply designed to provoke thought regarding the themes and fears it touches on. It's an odd, unsettling and uncompromisingly enigmatic experience that gets under your skin without you really knowing why. It's calmly yet confidently constructed, with sleek cinematography and deadpan performances. It's a very dry affair and it certainly won't appeal to everyone, but - if you can get on its wavelength - it's a distinct and unnerving short that should keep you engaged throughout.

So goes the first lines in Yorgos Lanthimos' odd little 2019 short: "Excuse me. Do you have the time?" The answer, at a runtime of 12 minutes is.... maybe? For fans of Lanthimos... Yes?

Nimic, like the title suggests, is slightly off, not quite right, not quite 'mimic,' and nothing here is quite resolved. Apart from, that is, a mood, a surreal little ride, a feeling of unease.

Father, the film's blank protagonist (tricky ground here), meets a woman on a subway, only to find himself followed, 'Mimicked,' and the absurdity of this, like in many of Lanthimos' films, is accepted by his family.

So perhaps too should the viewer when watching Nimic.

"Nimic," Romanian for "Nothing" - is a word also present in the film: from the way its characters fill voids, wear dull expressions; the film's narrative itself with no concrete answer. What should be expected here is the fun of the experimentation, the cinematography (a great camera whip), the soundtrack, and simply that.

The somnambulistic universe inhabited by Lanthimos/Fillipou characters is not limited to closures through the wide-angle lens use. It extends to a reactionary critique of home, family, affectivity, de-historicizing (contra, say, Bergman's similar doublings in 'Persona') the pathologies that afflict it by stretching the doppelgänger effect ad infinitum and by reducing structures to communicative breaching experiments.

While this movie undeniably showcases the signature surrealism we've come to expect from Yorgos Lanthimos, it might just be a bit too enigmatic for its own good. The film navigates the complex themes of identity and human relationships with a disconcerting flair but often leaves viewers grappling for solid ground. Matt Dillon's performance, though commendably intense, sometimes feels overshadowed by the movie's overindulgence in its own obscurity. The pacing, though aiming for unsettling, occasionally veers into the tedious. The visuals and score, while atmospheric, may come off as heavy-handed to those looking for a subtler narrative. Overall, this movie is a testament to Lanthimos' distinctive style, but its insistence on ambiguity may not sit well with all.