‘Kinds of Kindness’: Willem Dafoe, who plays the leader of a sex cult, wears a pair of bright orange Speedos

CNN
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Yorgos Lanthimos, director of the blockbuster films “The Favourite” and “The Poor Creatures,” is hailed as a genius by fans of his often strange and disturbing work. He made his name by courting the absurd and keeping audiences on the edge of their seats, embellishing his tales of love, power and free will with jarring musical motifs and disarming wide-angle cuts.

His latest project, “Kinds of Kindness,” traces recognizable power dynamics—those with your boss, your spouse, even religious leaders—in a surreal universe where they are intensified to their greatest (and often bloodiest) extremes.

The film is composed of three short stories. In the first, “The Death of RMF,” Jesse Plemons plays Robert, the hapless puppet of his boss Raymond (Willem Dafoe). In the second, “RMF is Flying,” Plemons is a police officer whose wife (Emma Stone) disappears while on a diving trip. When she returns, she appears fundamentally changed, leading Plemons to test her love for him in increasingly revolting ways. In the third, “RMF Eats a Sandwich,” Stone and a now-shaven Plemons are disciples of a purity cult led by Dafoe, tasked with locating someone who can resurrect the dead. Although seemingly detached from one another—except for the rotating cast and the passing presence of the mysterious RMF character (played by Yorgos Stefanakos)—each entry in the anthology repeats Lanthimos’ career-long thesis: human agency is a myth, and people will commit deranged acts to be accepted by the powerful.

Fortunately, that dark existentialism didn’t dampen the mood on set. “(Lanthimos) is putting together a group of really like-minded, lovely people who he thinks will get along,” Jennifer Johnson, the film’s costume designer, told CNN via video call. “Working with Yorgos in general is a very satisfying, exhilarating, and scary place to be, all at once. It’s really fun!”

Kindness is a film steeped in symbolism, and costumes played a vital role in defining the characters’ relative status. In the first relationship we meet, Robert (Plemons) and Raymond (Dafoe) each wear their power literally on their sleeves. Raymond, dressed in expensive Italian suits, is “someone who has a lot of money, who exudes power and style, but he does it in his own way,” Johnson said. “It’s that sense of confidence that was really important to convey very quickly, and that subtly eccentric way of dressing.”

His style was inspired by Gianni Agnelli, who ran Fiat from 1966 to 1996 and was an advocate of the chic, nonchalant Italian “Sprezzatura” style. “He wore hiking boots with a tailored suit, and his watch was worn outside his shirt,” Johnson recalls of Agnelli. “It’s that mix and match that we take for granted today, but when (Agnelli) dressed, it was something very unusual.”

According to Raymond’s written instructions — which detail not only how Robert should dress, but also what he should read (always Tolstoy’s “Anna Karenina”), what he should eat and when he should have sex with his wife — Plemons is also perfectly dressed, if deliberately. “(Raymond) gives him things that would make most men really uncomfortable,” Johnson said, pointing to a pink Tom Ford turtleneck that Robert was forced to wear. “It’s (one of) the little signs of an eccentric power play.”

After developing a visual language to reflect a power dynamic, the film’s structure required the same for the second and third chapters. “Each story is about an hour long, so there’s enough character development in each one to make it a full movie. That was very challenging in the short production time,” Johnson said. “Willem is a great example: you’re a CEO, then you’re (Stone’s) father, and now you’re the leader of a sex cult. To cross that territory and go all that distance in one (costume) fitting was a challenge, for sure.”

Most actors each play three characters, but in the final installment, Margaret Qualley was asked to play twins Rebecca and Ruth. For Johnson, that meant establishing clear character traits. “What was cool was that one of the twins was really wild and punk rock; you could imagine that she’s into indie music and doesn’t really march to the beat of mainstream music, whereas her twin sister is a veterinarian and kind of studious,” she said. “It was important that she had comfortable shoes, so those were her Dansko clogs, and she had a sewn sock, something that felt homemade. She likes pretty things, but she’s not into fashion. You set those rules for each person.”

Despite the film’s dark theme, there are some unexpected comedic moments, which aren’t really there to provide a reprieve, but rather to add to the element of surprise. Several of these rely on the costumes to provide the visual gag, with Dafoe leading the way.

As Raymond, he gets up from the couch after berating Robert to reveal a pair of knees to the camera; a change in tone pronounced enough to elicit laughter from the movie theater audience. “There aren’t many men in the world who can wear knee socks and pleated white shorts and be really gorgeous at the same time!” Johnson jokes.

In the third chapter, Dafoe plays a cult leader, freed from Raymond’s designer suits and wearing nothing but eyeliner and orange Speedos. “Willem is just one of the most charming, delightful, intelligent collaborators you could ever hope for,” Johnson raved. “His physique is so beautiful and lends itself so well to wearing clothes that he can really go out and wear the most absurd thing – but he’s not the one wearing it, he’s the one wearing it.”

The brightly colored swimsuit, reflecting the cult’s affinity with water, was a surprising choice for Dafoe, who rushed over to him in the dressing room. “Since the cult is very sexual, I thought it would be great if we could have him wear as little clothing as possible,” Johnson said. “That was the first thing he saw and he was like, ‘Yeah, I’ll wear that!’ It was a really funny moment because we didn’t tell Yorgos about it. (Dafoe) came out for the camera test in that swimsuit, and it was really funny!”

In their quest to find the elusive “waker of the dead,” Stone and Plemons’ outfits—loose, earth-toned suits paired with sandals—are also ridiculously flashy. Johnson referenced “The X-Files,” but Ken and Barbie trying to blend in on Venice Beach also come to mind. “They’re like detectives, and they’re cult members, but they have to pretend to be normal,” Johnson explained. “I think these characters thought, ‘Oh, well, a costume makes us look normal,’ when in reality, they look really weird and scarier; they would have looked better in their cult clothes, which were just outerwear.” Plemons’ costume was one of two found in a gargantuan thrift store—“like a whole city unto itself”—in New Orleans, where the film was shot. “It’s really fun to find that; “You can imagine the gentleman who gave it,” Johnson said. “It was dark brown and beige, but the dark brown was never filmed.”

Kinds of Kindness is an odd detour from traditional blockbusters, with an odd style and pacing, but it makes a compelling case for the collective, visceral experience of cinema. Over the course of a nearly three-hour screening, Lanthimos’s efforts provoked audible gasps, averted glances, and strangled moans. There was laughter, sometimes broad, sometimes hesitant, as viewers wondered whether they were being entertained or horrified in real time. People recoiled. One person wept. As the credits rolled, a stunned silence fell over the theater. The atmosphere had taken on its own heightened reality, one that complemented Lanthimos’ style and was hard to stop thinking about when you drove home.