Kinds of Kindness: Yorgos Lanthimos’s Weirdest Movie Yet (And Why I Loved It)

I Didn’t Know What I Was Walking Into

I lined up at the Angelika Film Center last Friday for the opening of Kinds of Kindness. I’m a Yorgos Lanthimos fan—loved Poor Things, The Favourite, even Dogtooth. But this one? It’s different. It’s an anthology of three stories, each featuring the same actors playing different characters. The reviews have been polarizing: some call it a masterpiece, others call it self-indulgent nonsense. After watching it twice, I’m leaning toward masterpiece.

The film runs 2 hours 45 minutes, and it feels like three short films stitched together. But there are themes that tie them together: control, love, and the kind of kindness that hurts. It’s not an easy watch. There’s a scene where a man eats a burger that’s clearly not a burger (you’ll know when you see it). The audience at my screening was split—some groaned, others gasped. I laughed nervously.

Story 1: The Man Who Couldn’t Say No

Jesse Plemons plays Robert, a man whose entire life is controlled by his boss Raymond (Willem Dafoe). Raymond dictates what Robert eats, who he sleeps with, and even what he thinks. Robert does everything to please him, until Raymond asks him to kill someone. This story is about the horror of total submission. Plemons is incredible—he makes Robert pathetic and sympathetic at the same time. The tension builds slowly, and the ending is brutal. I felt sick to my stomach.

Story 2: The Missing Woman

Emma Stone plays Liz, a biologist whose husband (again Plemons) becomes convinced she’s been replaced by a doppelgänger. He starts testing her—asking her to prove she’s the real Liz by cutting off her finger. Stone is unhinged here, switching from loving wife to terrified victim to something else entirely. This story is the most unsettling because it plays on real fears: what if the person you love isn’t who you think they are? The ending had a twist that made me gasp. I won’t spoil it, but it’s the most Lanthimos moment in the whole film.

Story 3: The Cult

Margaret Qualley plays Emily, a member of a sex cult led by a charismatic leader (Dafoe again). She’s searching for a woman with healing powers, and the cult’s rituals are bizarre—orgies, chanting, and a test involving a deadly snake. This one is the most surreal, with dreamlike sequences and dark humor. Qualley is fearless, and Stone appears as a minor character that ties the story to the previous ones. The final shot is a freeze-frame of Qualley’s face, and I still don’t know if it’s happy or tragic.

The Acting Is Off the Charts

I’ve seen Emma Stone in comedies, but she’s never been this raw. Jesse Plemons steals the show—he’s in all three stories, and each role is distinct. Willem Dafoe is creepy and vulnerable, sometimes in the same scene. There’s also a great performance by Hong Chau as a cold, calculating scientist. The ensemble works like a repertory theater company, and that’s what makes the anthology format work.

Why It’s Divisive

Lanthimos doesn’t explain anything. He trusts the audience to find meaning. If you need hand-holding, you’ll hate this movie. The pacing is slow, with long takes and awkward silences. The violence is sudden and graphic—there’s a scene in the second story that made half my theater look away. But that’s the point: kindness and cruelty are often the same thing. The film asks: how far would you go for the people you love? And is that love or control?

I saw it with my friend Mike, who walked out at the intermission. He said it was pretentious. I get that. But I stayed, and the third story changed my mind. By the end, I was thinking about my own relationships—how I sometimes do things to please people, how I demand loyalty without realizing it. That’s the power of good art: it makes you uncomfortable in a way that lingers.

Should You See It in Theaters?

Yes, if you’re a fan of arthouse cinema. No, if you want a fun night out. The sound design is immersive—the score, by Jerskin Fendrix, is dissonant and eerie. In a theater, you’ll feel every creak and whisper. On streaming, it’d lose that impact. And the big-screen photography (shot by Robbie Ryan) is gorgeous, with cold colors and clinical compositions that make the violence stand out.

Kinds of Kindness isn’t for everyone. But if you’re willing to sit with discomfort and let a film challenge you, it’s one of the best of 2026. I’m still unpacking it, and that’s the mark of a great movie.