The Lobster (2015)

Everyone in The Lobster talks like they’re reading a microwave manual aloud, and over nearly two hours that flat delivery starts to wear on you. The second half leaves the hotel for the woods, where a band of single rebels has rules just as strict as the place they escaped, and the energy drops off a cliff. It’s the point, but it’s also a slog. The first hour, though, is one of the strangest, funniest setups of the decade. Colin Farrell, hiding behind a sad mustache, plays David like a man who has given up arguing with anything. Olivia Colman runs the hotel with the cheery menace of a cruise director. John C. Reilly and Ben Whishaw make every awkward singles mixer a small masterpiece of embarrassment. Rachel Weisz narrates, eventually turns up, and makes the film unexpectedly tender. It holds an 88% from critics. A 7.8 because it’s brilliant, bleak and a little too in love with its own deadpan. $986.27 says somebody asks what animal you’d be this week and you take way too long to answer.

What works: The premise is wildly original, and Colin Farrell and Olivia Colman nail its bone-dry comedy.

What doesn’t: The relentless deadpan gets exhausting, and the second half in the woods slows to a crawl.

Who it’s for: Fans of weird, dark comedies who don’t need a movie to tell them how to feel.