Written by Andreas Babiolakis

Warning: spoilers for Men are in this review, as well as discussions of suicide. Reader discretion is advised.

I get no pleasure out of this, and I may feel differently about Men years down the road (it’s the kind of film that possesses an urgency and uniqueness that is sure to stick and beg to be reassessed, particularly because of the director/screenwriter’s past work), but right now I just feel a little bit dumbfounded. Garland is one of my favourite filmmakers working today, especially his two previous films: the phenomenal Ex Machina, and the even better Annihilation (which I think is a science fiction masterpiece waiting to be welcomed into that conversation, and I will die on this hill). Men had everything going for it, especially since this is Garland’s first foray into horror as a director (he did write 28 Days Later and worked on its sequel). Garland himself has positioned himself as a bit of a Kubrick or Tarkobsky of the new age, so knowing he could have gone all out with Men sounded ideal, especially with Jessie Buckley — whose resume is similarly fascinating — at the forefront of a terrifying tale of trauma sounded like a recipe for perfection.

That isn’t quite the case, and the major issue is that Men is a brilliant portfolio for art horror but easily Garland’s most rudimentary and puzzling writing I’ve come across. I want to like Men more than I do, especially because I honestly adore elements of it (particularly Ben Salisbury and Geoff Barrow’s score, the imagination behind the horror, and other aesthetic treats), but I keep thinking about what the film is trying to say and I notice just how flatly it goes about these very serious themes. Men discusses its title at great lengths: the notion that toxic masculinity remains a constant corrosion in society. The problem is that Men barely scratches the surface of what it’s trying to say. The premise is that Harper (Buckley) temporarily resides in a vacation home away from the world to cope with the trauma of an awful event: her abusive boyfriend’s suicide. There are major discussions here already that don’t get analyzed, including the fine line between a call-for-help and gaslighting. While away, Harper starts to see everyone in this small town looks the same, and they are all men of varying ages, including a policeman, the owner of the holiday house, a young boy, a vicar, and a naked vagabond. There’s something very Anomalisa here, but even this isn’t explored nearly enough; in Men, seeing all of the males sporting the same face just feels a little strange, but the existential mundanity of life in Anomalisa is felt and sold in minutes. Men isn’t about a midlife crisis, of course, but the use of one actor (Rory Kinnear, who does a fantastic job, mind you) feels more like a curiosity than a statement.

As the film progresses with a lot of narrative loitering (you can’t pull off a Tarkovsky film like Solaris with many thesis-like arguments to say; you either embrace the minimalism, or you develop your thoughts), we reach the astounding climax that also feels like a very basic idea that amounts to very little: toxic men are the result of the toxic men and toxic male systems before them, and before these men, and before those men, and before them as well. So, where do we go from here? This is the kind of notion that Men should have started with. In Ex Machina, we’re blatantly told that Ava is an example of artificial intelligence, but it’s about succumbing to the illusion of the Turing test. Annihilation discusses mutations and showcases the pugnacious ways of mental illnesses, and we have downward spirals in both capacities. Men just has ideas, and none of them — outside of their artistic and aesthetic brilliances — really get anywhere. It feels like an essay with a really long introduction and a brief conclusion, with very little that constitutes as actual arguments (and the examples are tossed in just to have). I fully support what Garland is trying to say, especially because I identify as a feminist myself. I just don’t think Men gets there.

The absolute ending is an even bigger head scratcher that gets plopped on our plate, and I don’t even know where to start with wondering what purpose these final moments even serve; at least with Annihilation, we have a sizeable amount of time to embrace both the bizarre climax and the deescalation afterward. Men kind of just ends, as if the climax (which I love, again) was enough for the film to exist. I wish it was, Garland. I wish it was. I feel like I’m watching a tug-of-war between two different films here: an art horror film that wants to shake you to your core, and a harrowing take on misogyny in society. Men places more favour in its horror basket, but it attempts to do the bare minimum as social commentary and it just misses the mark too much. What I can say is that this is a misstep by an expert filmmaker, considering how much I still want to defend and associate with this film. There’s also the notion that Garland was at least trying something new and have something to say. As much of a letdown as Men is for me, I still think it was worthwhile to watch, because you can tell that Garland and company put work into this. It just didn’t add up to something whole.

Andreas Babiolakis has a Masters degree in Film and Photography Preservation and Collections Management from Toronto Metropolitan University, as well as a Bachelors degree in Cinema Studies from York University. His favourite times of year are the Criterion Collection flash sales and the annual Toronto International Film Festival.