The Killing of a Sacred Deer (2017)

by sfe medusa

960x410_aab916fc149e0073c34d9cd473e5bcf4.jpg(dir. Yorgos Lanthimos)

This film did not need its soundtrack. I feel like everything that was wrong with the film – exaggeration, contrived discomfort – is encapsulated in the soundtrack. It was good music supervision but it didn’t need to happen.

Piling on every trick in the well-thumbed book of making viewers feel uneasy, this is Caché, Force Majeure, Enemy, and nothing new.
Despite the genuinely original ideas and cruelly hilarious writing, by playing these hands all at the same time it felt forced and numbed. Too many cooks, too many cooks. Perhaps it would’ve worked better as some kind of strange TV series split into 10 minutes episodes.

We’re used to certain kind of voices, speech patterns and relationships in films – all flowing, coherent and sensical, so funnily enough I didn’t find Sacred Deer‘s twisted and stilted rhythm of speech that disconcerting at all; it rang truer to real life, which trips, pauses and stutters. Especially when confused, which I guess is this film’s whole *~/thing\~*.

Barry Keoghan is some kind of We Need To Talk About Kevin’s Ezra Miller meets Rasputin, a top-notch actor unfortunately coloured by shades of the desperation to shock that similarly characterised (and depleted) the quality of A Serbian Film.

Nicole Kidman puts her usual effort into the role which pays off, and ol’ Colin is as earnest as ever. Perhaps the use of familiar faces was intended to further creep us out, but I reckon smaller-time actors would’ve helped make the escapist nature of the story feel more genuine.

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