Men

It’s been a while since I’ve posted. This year has been pretty hectic and life has got in the way but somehow it seems we’re nearly half way through 2022 already.

I’ve definitely been neglecting my ever growing ‘watch list’, with substantially less crossed off than at the same time last year. There have been some horror highs such as Ti West’s ‘X’ and ‘Dashcam’ from Rob Savage, but the first thing that has compelled me to write in a while is the polarising ‘Men’ from Alex Garland.

Though Alex Garlands debut novel ‘The Beach’ is probably one of my favourite books, but his work in film is a little hit or miss for me. Where I loved 2014’s ‘Ex Machina’, I was a little let down by his next feature ‘Annihilation’ but the bizarrely intriguing trailer for Men had me cautiously hoping for a return to form.

Starring Jessie Buckley and Rory Kinnear (x8), Men follows the recently widowed Harper on a solo trip to a remote country location as she seeks to process her grief and begin to move on. As the name suggests, what develops is a chilling and increasingly abstract study of toxic masculinity.

Whilst the characters we meet are from different of walks of life, they all have a shared characteristic at their core, a metaphor somewhat crudely underlined by the fact that they all (quite literally) share the same face. Despite the overstated nature of it, Kinnear delivers a stellar performance with nuances that occasionally have the audience momentarily forget he is in multiple roles.

Whilst some of the Men are more developed than others, the range of motivations and lingering grudges depicted could be characterised as the types of men many women will meet at different points throughout their lives.

The priest who holds resentment towards female sexuality as though it exists solely to tempt men and in his case, test his faith.

The young boy, who at such a young age, already displays confidently vicious behaviour towards women. The sense that even as a child, he is more entitled in the world than a grown woman simply for being male, a behaviour that makes you wonder how and where he has developed such a view (a point which is developed further in the third act).

Even the seemingly good natured ‘Geoff’ is depicted as being a product of the patriarchy, shaped by society’s rules as to what it is to be a women, and therefore – a man. Whilst the subtle insistence of carrying her bags could be missed, the reluctant show of bravery as he explains the cruel put downs from his father is indicative of any child ever being told to ‘man up’.

When Harper is alarmed to find a naked man in the properties grounds, having followed her from the woods, she contacts the police. The officer (unsurprisingly, Kinnear) is dismissive of her fears with the implication that Harper is just another hysterical woman.

Perhaps the most interesting character of them all is the man who began it all, in more ways than one. The naked man who quietly admires the apples in the tree is a clear allegory for the story of creation. As the film develops, ‘Adam’s’ appears to get closer to nature, with the leaves he adorns himself with increasing before his final transformation.

The influence of religion is not lost as ‘Adam’ ends the film resembling the carved depiction of man from the church. Similarly, Harpers own trauma is arguably born of religion, as she is bound by her marriage vows within an abusive marriage.

 Is Garland saying this behaviour is intrinsically within men? Do the lingering shots on the dandelion clocks that eventually end inside Harper depict the male seed, this continued pattern of lineage and birth? The metaphor within the film does get a little messy at times, with Garlands overall message left a little ambiguous, but like all men borne of Adam, this literally becomes the case in the absolutely mad final scenes.

The remote countryside location of Men heightens the sense of the protagonists loneliness which is further emphasised by the broken connection when trying to get in touch with her friend. This solitude is unnerving, with the introduction of the female police officer feeling like a comforting lifeline in a sea of unfamiliar (yet ironically all identical) faces.

Men has some truly creepy moments before developing in to a full on what the fuck fest, but overall does miss the mark a little. With some of the metaphor a little too in your face and conversely some a little too subtle, the result is a feature that never feels quite complete. But given the context of the subject matter and its very current relevance, maybe we still have a way to go before it will.