This past weekend, Greek filmmaker Yorgos Lanthimos released his latest English-language feature Bugonia (2025), co-starring Emma Stone and Jesse Plemons and centered around a kidnapping mission that involves a paranoid conspiracy theorist believing that the head of a pharmaceutical company is an alien. The premise is absurd and finds the two actors stuck in a perpetual argument over who has the moral high ground. Anyone expecting convenient answers will be disappointed to learn that most conversations are less resolved and instead fit into the childish rubber/glue scenario in which two people can exist in the same room but fail to exist in the same world.
For those wanting escapism from the real world, this might not be the best call. Yes, it’s a cathartic dark comedy that delves into some bizarre corners (typical Lanthimos), but the longer that one gets caught up in the kitchen sink style conversations, the more they’ll notice something that feels real, something that has been evident in larger public discourse for a decade now but has reached a boiling point, especially in 2025. In some ways, Plemons and Stone aren’t mad enough to compare to the American dialogue it seeks to fantasize. If anything, it makes it more palpable and empathetic, creating a perfect microcosmic study of a country in crisis.
Today marks the one-week anniversary of Bugonia’s release. This isn’t special save for the fact that another milestone has happened since last Friday. On November 5, 2025, The United States government reached its longest government shutdown. It would be hard to believe that anything meaningful is being done to resolve the matter as the president remodels The White House and attends affluent parties. To turn on the news is to witness grown adults with multiple decades of public service to their credit pointing fingers while on a familiar carousel of blame. This can’t be resolved because of the minority party Democrats. As airports nationally fail to operate with reassurance and SNAP benefits run dry, it’s hard to not see this as satire.
Of course, Lanthimos’ morbid sense of humor results in Bugonia reaching a tragic ending. For those trying to view that story with any sense of optimism, it’s meant to be cautionary and convince bickering parties to resolve matters before everything falls apart. Given that the president also once said that kids should get “two dolls instead of 30” to combat tariffs, there’s no belief that he cares about how we spend the most consumer-driven portion of the year, especially as paychecks are cut and many innocent bystanders are at risk of losing jobs and basic food necessities. Things look abysma,l and, if nothing else, Bugnoia’s ability to tap into the raw nerve hostility of the betrayed working class and the “good?” intentioned corporations is a powerful study of this country at a crossroads.
Even so, credit to Lanthimos for creating a movie that feels more timeless because of the nuance in between the obvious animosity. There’s no clear answer for who has the moral high ground, especially as humanity is stripped away, and Stone may or may not be deceiving her captor just so she can escape. Reality is slipping away, leaving behind two archetypes that reflect an inability to compromise, to see some greater pathway. To say the least, Plemons is a tragic bumbling fool, so warped by past relationships that may have been inappropriate that he can no longer connect with anybody but his mentally challenged cousin, himself used as leverage as the only person who is hierarchically beneath him.
The cycle continues without resolution. Answers become more bizarre the longer one stays watching, waiting for the saving grace to appear. Without spoiling any third-act developments, the controversial nature again mirrors the state of America on November 5. There is some hope that if one follows the corroded advice of a C.E.O. that things will get better. Everyone has suffered enough. It’s time for a sigh of relief to emerge and put things back in its rightful position.
At this point, it’s hard not to buy into the narrative of America in crisis. Beyond any subjective terms that can be construed, there’s the simple fact that a government shutdown is ongoing. Even as Election Day hinted at potential hope for the future, there’s the next few months to get through. Without money and food, there’s nothing really to stop Bugonia from transcending its fictional box. Given the rise of politically motivated assassinations and violence as a first response, it can be argued that Lanthimos’ film is more responsive than predictive. Even as a remake of Save the Green Planet! (2003), it feels prescient, capturing the urgent need for unity and change to happen. The finger-pointing needs to stop, pronto!
Though to say that Lanthimos is the only one noticing this would be farcical. Even if I’d argue his film gets closest to the emotional understanding of tensions, there have been two other titles that are likely to go down as the quintessential commentary of 2025, and what I have decided to dub The America in Crisis Trilogy.
The two in question have also been more publicly celebrated in the months since their release. During the summer, Ari Aster released Eddington (2025) while Paul Thomas Anderson came in late September with the most critically acclaimed of the batch, with the Steven Spielberg-endorsed One Battle After Another (2025). Since the latter’s debut, there have been nonstop comparisons of the two, especially with their broad view commentary on radical protagonists fighting a larger institution in order to find some balance in the world. While their paths differ greatly from there (Eddington is closer to slapstick farce), they both share a mentality reminiscent of author Thomas Pynchon, whose fascination with exploring hidden and corrupt agencies with a vaudevillian wit has made him a standout in the post-modern literary genre. Given that he released his own book, “Shadow Ticket,” which looked at the overlap of The Great Depression and the rise of fascism, it’s hard to not say that he’s having a moment.
Much like Bugonia, One Battle After Another is adapted from a much older material. Pynchon’s “Vineland” came out in 1990 and has long been a passion project for Anderson, who has said to have adapted various elements of the novel for his otherwise original take. Given that he also sets his narrative much further after Pynchon’s 1984 timeline, it’s safe to say that liberties were taken. Still, the idea of creating an epic drama about the failures of Gen-X’s ability to lead to radical change was noble, ending in what serves as the most optimistic ending of the three. It’s a suggestion that America is in crisis, but allowing the next generation to try and make a difference is in itself a radical act that’s worth attempting.
One Battle After Another is also the most sprawling of the three, taking place over decades and featuring an impressive number of action set pieces ranging from bank heists to car chases that find new ways to turn the desert into a nail-biting hiding place. As the protagonist, Leonardo DiCaprio, attempts to find his daughter, he must wander through different organizations that fight against the federal forces he sought to take down. The most enjoyable example comes in the presence of Benicio Del Toro, who teaches self-defense and has a very familial relationship with the community that knows how to flee at the faint sound of a siren. There’s rooftop chases and skateboarding that feels reminiscent of The Warriors (1979), creating the perfect anarchic alternative to the order that the oppressive antagonist seeks to enforce.
The most Pynchon element is found in Sean Penn, whose desire to join a special “Christmas Club” with not-so-subtle nods to a fascist organization, comes across like a suburban dad trying to fit in with the cool parents. No matter how much he presents himself as competent, he’s ostracized, only ever good for what he gives to others who want him to basically debase himself for their own amusement. His efforts to racially cleanse Southern California will never be enough, especially as secrets emerge that suggest his own flawed past. The irony eventually emerges that he would’ve been accepted by those he hunted if he just didn’t hate them.
And with that, the conflict emerges in a very direct manner. Unlike Anderson’s other work, this is the most morally black-and-white film that he’s released, and the easiest to find triumph in during the final act. It’s an eccentric view of California and the way that sanctuaries are hidden behind code words. It’s a world that knows the danger of institutions like I.C.E. (which is not directly referenced but feels painfully relevant) that can kidnap loved ones and throw lives into disarray. The sins of the parents will wash onto the child, forever branding them an outcast. Anderson’s film may be a personal love letter to his own children and his concern about their ability to navigate the world safely, but it’s also recognition that one can’t live in fear either.
While there’s two months of eligibility left, One Battle After Another is currently a front-runner for major awards contention, including an Oscar for Best Picture. While I’d argue it’s the weakest commentary of the three, it’s also the most accessible for a variety of reasons, notably that it depicts an America that feels modern. DiCaprio is a dad who could realistically exist and, despite his manic fits, is capable of accepting the changing nature of Gen-Z, including accepting his daughter’s non-binary friends. Sociologically, this feels like where America is at this exact moment, where the average citizen must find a way to navigate the different cliques and avoid the ambushing nature of government forces who have now openly admitted to wanting to deport citizens who disagree with their worldview. If there’s another film that comes close to embodying the atmosphere this succinctly – I’m sure somebody will try to argue this for Wicked: For Good (2025), but… no – I’ll be surprised. Again, I wouldn’t say Anderson has the most insightful viewpoints here, but his eventual optimism is the type of messaging that goes down well in a time when it’s unclear if the airport will even exist for Thanksgiving travel.
By comparison, Eddington is arguably the most explicitly about the world that you the reader lives in. Aster wrote the film prior to the timeframe, but eventually realized how well 2020 and the COVID-19 pandemic suited his narrative. With people hailing it as the first great film about the pandemic (I disagree, but that’s for another day), many could see it as a distillation of the tensions that small communities especially faced during those early months when social distancing and masking were considered controversial viewpoints. It was also the clearest time when attempting to maintain order was difficult because, for one simple reason, the choice to isolate out of consideration was not an accepted idea. Hostilities rose as lives were thrown into disarray, and given that the federal government encouraged injecting bleach as a cure, it was easy to see everything as a paranoid farce.
At the center is Joaquin Phoenix, playing a sheriff who wants to run for mayor. He is the only figure who has presumptive control of these three films. The nervousness in his demeanor allows the comedy to flow more fluidly, creating a study of the absurdity that starts to emerge on cell phones. As evident by the opening montage, everyone has their own personal feeds and is thus receiving their own personal messaging. The idea of unification was falling apart before things got too far along. The entitlement of various supporting roles causes levels of hate and madcap revenge, itself ending in the most tragicomic conclusion of the three.
The contrast here can be found in Phoenix’s quest to take down the current likable mayor played by Pablo Pascal. As with Lanthimos, there’s some moral grey area for every character, though this is ultimately the study of Phoenix’s descent into believing conspiracies and posting videos on social media designed as character assassinations of his opponent. He thinks that he’s being noble, but he’s ultimately a fool, setting himself up to be part of the social media feeds that manipulated him. Given that there’s a nearby plant fueling this, it feels like a greater commentary on how information boxes can isolate. There’s also several comedic scenes about where law can exist in the desert, especially in regards to invisible lines of jurisdiction. It is here that order begins to fall apart, failing to work together for a solution.
The other thing that is very amusing about Eddington is how Aster paints Phoenix as a man in retrograde. He starts with a commendable level of competence, even if he’s not the best leader. However, the more that he becomes driven by power, the more his writing and diction become fragmented, eventually ending in gibberish. There’s a great metaphor for how social division leaves everyone at a major disadvantage. While the larger institutions still benefit, it’s the everyday citizen who suffers at the hands of force-fed ignorance.
Each film provides a different viewpoint on what I feel is a modern crisis. While there are likely to be other titles that also capture the moment, these three embody the divides that hold back greater change, depicting them with various levels of comedic intention and levels of scope. Bugonia is the most intimate and abstract, relying on some deep thought once the credits roll to fully connect its cautionary tale. Eddington, by comparison, is a typical Aster puzzle that really taps into the humor of anxiety and develops the most axe-wielding madness imaginable. Because of its fixation on several ideas, everything feels more scattershot, but it also develops its own internal logic of making the viewer feel conflicted about what they perceive as truth.
Unfortunately, the truth is that there’s two more months of 2025 and then three more years of this presidency to work through. With everything continuing to spiral and question the basic fabric of what many were taught to believe in, it’s only natural to turn to the arts for any comfort. Collectively, I think Eddington, One Battle After Another, and Bugonia serve as the perfect time capsule of this time and place, showing a country that can’t put together a larger plan without blaming somebody else. There is a shallow sense of inhumanity going on right now, and it’s hard to suggest that an end is in sight. Hopefully, this sentiment is short-lived, though I’m not wishing to play the prediction game. Instead, I’ll tell people 10, 20 years down the line who ask, “What was it like to live during 2025” (or 2024, or 2023, or 2022….) to consider these three. Some may be more abstract than others, but to me, they capture the shared disconnect everyone is currently facing, unable to speak the same language and fear for safety. Ideally, we get to a better place sooner than later. I don’t want things to end like Bugonia though, given where we stand, I’m not sure that we will try.
Comments
Post a Comment