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  • Writer's pictureSteve

The Humans (2021)

I rarely come across a scene of an average family where they spontaneously break into song. Not since the Von Trapps, at least. This scenes hangs uncomfortably with me personally as this was a reality briefly forgotten from my ex-wife's family, who would quite regularly burst into song when they gathered for a family event, songs they had loved growing up and were all, apart from us confused good-for-nothing interlopers throwing furtive glances at one another, completely oblivious to how odd and frankly uneasy we found it to be.

Extreme though it may be, but its like finding the woman you have loved for years is a covert member of the KKK, only coming to light when in the company of other KKK members at a dinner when they all put on the uniforms and headdresses, where you are then subjected to weirdness that you were so very, very far from expecting.

And for all of the familiar found here, there is pointed and deliberate nods to the unusual, that even the nearest and dearest are unable to unburden themselves from, even from their most trusted and natural confidantes. The whole thing feels cloying. The dilapidated apartment with its artistic, enthusiastic plumbing, temperamental electricity and weathered paintwork which blooms and bulges, the narrow overbearing corridors where an unbridled moment of perceived calm only ends up bringing nausea and confusion.

The arcs are admirable with every character getting their moment to shine or wallow in their own foibles of imagined darkness and as the night progresses, so does the reality of being part of a family as real as any of us might imagine we are not a part of ourselves.

Great performances, skilful artistic direction with a cinematographic perspective and a measured, confident and powerful script.



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