“The Animal Kingdom”: a beastly disease
By the time “The Animal Kingdom” opens, the enigmatic disease troubling the world has been circulating for years. It’s unclear where and how it started, much less why or just how far it has spread. Is a virus or bacteria to blame, or is it something in the air, the water, our genes? If we’ve learned anything from our recent pandemic it is that sometimes the most urgent questions aren’t immediately answerable. The big freaky unknown here is why people have begun mutating into beguiling, sometimes terrifying parthuman, part-animal creatures.
The furred and the hoofed, the feathered and the chaotically tentacled roam, slither and sometimes howl in “The Animal Kingdom,” an amusing what-if French fantasy with a touch of comedy and some glints of horror. It’s all pretty confusing for the 16-year-old Émile (a poignant, delicate, openfaced Paul Kircher), who’s struggling to deal with his mother, Lana (Florence Deretz).
Adolescence is tough on its own without a mother who now seems post-verbal and whose face is covered in fur. Her breathing is strangely labored, too, although she also sounds as if she’s warming up a growl. Living alongside other species has its joys; its perils, too.
An off-kilter mystery that teasingly flirts with a larger metaphoric resonance, the movie follows Émile as he and his father, François (a jittery, sympathetic Romain Duris), navigate their wild new normal.
Lana has been institutionalized in a government-run facility since she attacked Émile — the deep scratches on the walls of her room resemble the scars on his face — and is receiving some kind of care. She’s about to be transferred to another facility in the south, where Émile and François are going to move. “We’ve made real progress in deciphering this disease,” a doctor reassures them. Controlling it is another matter.
Director Thomas Cailley takes a direct, unfussy approach to the story, smoothly plunging you into it without ceremony or much background. (He shares script credit with Pauline Munier.) Within minutes, various meticulously rendered creatures have entered and exited, and Émile and François’ loving, testy relationship has been established. What’s also evident is the matter-of-fact attitude that the characters express. Everyone has adjusted to this disordered reality and has taken for-or-against positions, which is eerily familiar. At the same time, because the characters know far more than you do, at least at first, this creates a sense of unease that nicely fuels the movie’s smoldering dread.
A sense of low-key unquiet continues even as the story shifts into a coming-of-age groove. Émile enters a new school where he hangs with other kids, develops a crush and changes, as all living things must. (Adèle Exarchopoulos shows up in a subplot, presumably because she’s a recognizable name.) It’s banal yet unordinary, as evidenced by the teens’ opposing views of the creatures; the intolerant call them “critters” while others argue for their rights. Then, while in the woods, Émile meets the birdman, a quasi-raptor, Fix (an impressively avian Tom Mercier), with majestic wings and a bandage where a beak should be. After chatting and cawing — Fix is losing his ability to speak — they become friendly.
The intersection of the human and the nonhuman — whether it involves animals, plants, machines or the restlessly undead — is a reliable storytelling hook. There’s mystery in such transformations as well as horror, revulsion, pathos, comedy and even yearning. Like Lana, Fix has become something other; he’s also become a one-size-fits-all metaphor.
In moments, he and the other scaly and fuzzy creatures that Émile and François encounter seem representative of the refugees who, across history, have been forced to hide in Europe’s woods and shadows. At other times, they seem more like literal manifestations of humanity’s beastliness (one of us, one of us!), though whether that’s bad is another question.
Narrative ambiguity can be fruitful but also a copout, as too many would-be art films tediously demonstrate. Here, though, the movie’s vagueness dovetails with both François’ and especially Émile’s confusion, and importantly, it also serves as a counterpoint to their unshakable love for Lana. In some metamorphosis tales, the not-quite humans are inevitably cured or destroyed and often returned to their original form. Émile and François want to save Lana, no matter what. That gives them a mission, and it adds to the pleasure of “The Animal Kingdom,” presenting a world that is, in many respects, similar to our own but one in which the domination of nature does not necessarily have to be the end of the story.