Yorgos Lanthimos is a weird guy. I mean that in the best way possible. If you’ve ever sat through a first date that felt like a job interview, you’ve basically lived a scene from his 2015 masterpiece. People often ask where to watch The Lobster film because they’ve heard it’s a comedy, but honestly? It’s a horror movie for anyone who’s ever felt the crushing weight of societal expectations.
It is bleak. It is hilarious. It is deeply uncomfortable.
The premise is simple enough. In a near-future dystopian society, single people are taken to a high-end hotel where they have exactly 45 days to find a romantic partner. If they fail? They get turned into an animal of their choice. Colin Farrell’s character, David, chooses a lobster. Why? Because they live for a hundred years, remain fertile all their lives, and have blue blood like aristocrats. It’s a practical choice, really.
The Brutal Logic of the Hotel
Most movies about love are soft. This one is sharp. When you watch The Lobster film, you realize it isn't just poking fun at dating apps; it’s dissecting the way we perform "compatibility." In the hotel, you don't find love through shared values or deep conversations. You find it through shared defects.
If one person has nosebleeds, they need a partner who also has nosebleeds. It sounds ridiculous until you realize how often we try to find "one thing" in common with a stranger just to justify a second date. Lanthimos uses this deadpan absurdity to show how desperate people get when the alternative is literally becoming a crustacean.
Ben Whishaw’s character, known only as the Limping Man, goes so far as to bash his own nose against a table just to fake a connection with a woman prone to epistaxis. It's pathetic. It's also incredibly human. We lie to fit in. We pretend to like the same bands or have the same hobbies because being alone is framed as a death sentence—or at least a "transformation" sentence.
The hotel staff, led by the chillingly polite Olivia Colman, run daily skits to show the "benefits" of being a couple. One skit shows a woman eating alone and choking to death because there’s no one there to perform the Heimlich maneuver. Then they show a couple, and the man saves her. The message is clear: be together or die.
Why the Cinematography Feels Like a Fever Dream
Thimios Bakatakis, the cinematographer, uses natural light in a way that makes everything feel cold. Even the lush Irish countryside looks sterile. There’s no warmth in this world because there’s no room for spontaneity. The shots are often wide and static. It feels like you’re watching bugs in a jar.
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The music helps, too. It’s mostly jarring string quartets—Beethoven, Shostakovich, Stravinsky—that cut off abruptly. It’s intentional. It mimics the stunted, awkward way the characters talk. Nobody uses contractions. They speak in flat, declarative sentences. "I have no feelings for you," or "I am glad we have the same size feet."
Escaping to the Woods: The Loners
Halfway through, the movie flips. David escapes the hotel and joins the Loners, a group of rebels living in the forest. You’d think they’d be the "good guys," right? Wrong.
The Loners, led by Léa Seydoux, have rules that are just as suffocating as the hotel’s. In the hotel, you must be in a couple. In the woods, you must be alone. Flirting is punished. Kissing is punished. They spend their days dancing to electronic music alone in the woods, wearing headphones so they don't share the experience.
It’s a perfect satire of the "counter-culture." Sometimes, the people who claim to be "independent" are just as rigid and judgmental as the society they ran away from. When David falls for the Short Sighted Woman (Rachel Weisz), they have to invent a secret sign language just to communicate. They find love in a place where it’s forbidden, which is the ultimate irony.
The Ending Everyone Argues About
When you finally watch The Lobster film all the way to the end, you’ll probably be annoyed. Or fascinated. Most people are both.
Without spoiling the literal last frame, it involves a steak knife and a bathroom mirror. It asks a terrifying question: is love based on genuine connection, or is it just a series of sacrifices we make to maintain a shared identity? David is faced with a choice that proves whether he’s actually in love or just terrified of being different.
Rachel Weisz’s narration throughout the film is haunting. She speaks about David in the third person, even though she’s his partner. It creates this distance that makes you wonder if any of it was ever real.
Where Does This Fit in Film History?
The Lobster belongs to the "Greek Weird Wave." This movement, which Lanthimos helped spearhead with Dogtooth (2009), uses surrealism to critique modern life. It’s not "weird for the sake of being weird." It’s weird because our actual lives are weird, and we’ve just grown used to it.
Think about it. We use algorithms to find "matches." We feel a social ticking clock. We celebrate anniversaries with performative social media posts. Lanthimos just takes those quiet anxieties and turns the volume up to eleven.
Expert Tips for First-Time Viewers
If you’re planning to sit down and watch The Lobster film tonight, here are a few things to keep in mind so you don't turn it off after twenty minutes:
- Don't look for a hero. There are no heroes here. Everyone is flawed, selfish, and trying to survive.
- Embrace the humor. It’s okay to laugh when something horrific happens. The movie is designed to be a "cringe" comedy.
- Watch the background. There are animals wandering around the hotel grounds—camels, flamingos, dogs—that used to be people. It adds a layer of quiet tragedy to every scene.
- Listen to the dialogue. The lack of emotion in the voices is a stylistic choice. It represents how the characters have been stripped of their individuality by the system.
Actionable Next Steps for Fans of Surrealism
Once the credits roll, don't just sit there in a stunned silence (though you probably will). If the style of The Lobster resonated with you, there is a specific path of media you should follow to understand this type of storytelling better.
First, check out The Killing of a Sacred Deer. It’s Lanthimos’s follow-up, and it’s even darker. It deals with justice and sacrifice in a way that feels like an ancient Greek tragedy dropped into a modern hospital.
Second, read up on the concept of "The Absurd" by Albert Camus. The Lobster is a textbook example of Camus’s philosophy—the conflict between humans searching for meaning and the "silent," meaningless universe.
Finally, look into the production notes of the film. It was shot at the Parknasilla Hotel in County Kerry, Ireland. Knowing that the cast lived in the hotel together during filming adds a layer of realism to their cabin-fever performances.
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The movie doesn't give you answers. It doesn't tell you that love is easy or that being single is better. It just shows you the mirror. What you see in it depends entirely on your own relationship status and how much you're willing to sacrifice to keep it.
Check your local streaming listings or digital retailers to find where you can watch The Lobster film right now. It is currently available on platforms like Max (formerly HBO Max) in many regions, and for rent on A24's own digital storefront or Apple TV.
Stop looking for "the one" for two hours and watch a movie about why that search is so crazy in the first place. You’ll never look at a seafood menu the same way again.
Practical Insights Summary:
- Genre: Dystopian Satire / Dark Comedy.
- Key Themes: Social conformity, the performative nature of romance, and the cult of "singleness."
- Similar Works: The Favourite, Poor Things, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.
- Content Warning: Contains scenes of animal cruelty (simulated) and sudden violence.
To fully appreciate the narrative arc, pay close attention to the transition between the Hotel and the Woods. The shift in color grading and sound design marks the protagonist's failed attempt to find freedom, suggesting that "absolute freedom" in the woods is just another form of imprisonment.
Watch for the character "The Loner Leader" and how her rules mirror the Hotel Manager's; this is the core intellectual "twist" of the movie—that escaping a system often leads you straight into the arms of its opposite, equally restrictive twin.