The second half of the film takes place in the forest surrounding the facility, teeming with random recently-human animals as well as a tough band of escaped "Loners," their fierce leader played by Léa Seydoux. Seydoux gives a charismatic and terrifying performance, reminiscent of the "children of Marx and Coca Cola" in Jean-Luc Godard's early work, most particularly Veronique, the heartless redheaded revolutionary in "La Chinoise." The freedom Seydoux represents is heady and deadly as pure oxygen. Her ideal is Kipling's Cat, who "walked by himself ... through the wet Wild Woods, waving his wild tail, and walking by his wild lone." But in order for freedom like that to be possible, there must be rules. Lots of rules.
Lanthimos is interested, here and in his other films, in the sometimes pathological human need for systems. Why wait for a totalitarian government to institute rules from the top-down when human beings submit to atomization of every aspect of their lives all on their own? If this "need" is wired into the human race, then where does that leave the individual? An individual who doesn't "go along" becomes a renegade, an outlaw, an unwelcome reminder that the system doesn't work for everyone.
Lanthimos clocks the fact—and relentlessly lampoons it with surgical precision—that society values couples more it values single people. Valentine's Day, to a single person, can feel like living in a one-party State bombarding the populace with non-stop propaganda. Every magazine, commercial, movie, daytime talk show is a never-ending parade of relationship advice and aspirational examples of love winning out. Even the dropdown menu choices of "Mr." "Miss." and "Mrs." forces individuals to state their relationship status (and, of course, men get to be "Mr." whether they're single or not). It goes without saying that these everyday annoyances do not amount to "oppression," but they are omnipresent enough that Lanthimos follows them out to their most extreme conclusions. What about "opting out" of all of it? But look out, freedom-seekers: Sociopaths like Léa Seydoux's character emerge out of power vacuums practically on schedule.
The forest section of "The Lobster" doesn't work as well as the section in the facility, Seydoux's performance notwithstanding. Without the walls of the complex pressing in on the characters, the satire floats around in the air, searching for its proper landing-point. Lanthimos' real target is inside that facility. However, as "The Lobster" marches towards its conclusion, it becomes clear that it intends to go the distance. Lanthimos will not cop out on what his film has unleashed. In a world devoted to happy endings, where platitudes like "the right person is out there waiting for you" or "someday your Prince will come” are parroted as Unquestioned Truths, the film is a welcome breath of freezing cold, poisoned air.
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