What. The. Hell. I watched The Lobster one evening at home sipping a cocktail. The next morning, I was so firmly convinced that I passed out during it that I went skimming through the DVD to find where I had dropped out. Nope. That’s really all there was… And it did really end that way. The Lobster begins with a thrillingly original premise. In a society that mandates coupledom, when one is suddenly single, there is a 45-day period to find a mate at a strange holding cell hotel resort before being turned into an animal of your choosing. Individuals committed to singledom flee to the woods where they are hunted for sport by “guests” of the hotel. Each Loner brought in buys you more time at the hotel to find a mate. Ok. I can buy into that premise and say that it could be an excellent satire on modern society… Except it wasn’t. Colin Firth never conveys that he DOESN”T want to be changed into an animal. None of the “guests” at the hotel do. The enthusiasm each character has for finding a mate rises to about the level of filling one’s taxes. And it’s never explained. Firth eventually escapes to join the Loners only to actually fall in love with fellow Loner Rachel Weisz, where their relationship unfolds flatly and in secret, fearful of other Loners finding out. Why? For Pete’s sake, why not just stroll away from the group on one of the several city missions that they take or get captured by the hotel guests?! Once they fall in love, they’re not societal outcasts anymore! The film’s premise collapses on itself in a ridiculous and melancholy heap. Don’t bother.