Director: Jan Komasa
Starring: Diane Lane, Kyle Chandler, Zoey Deutch, Mckenna Grace, Dylan O' Brien, Daryl McCormack, Madeline Brewer, Phoebe Dynevor, Sky Yang, Rebecca O' Mara
Running Time: 111 min.
Rating: R
★★★★ (out of ★★★★)
Director Jan Komasa's Anniversary asks what happens when the actions of those surrounding you can longer be explained away as politics. It theorizes where that line is and how it gets crossed, bleeding over into legal and ethical waters that have less to do with party affiliation than an emerging ideological battle between "us" and "them." Scarier still is how many won't realize this until it's too late, their moral compasses malfunctioning when needed most.
If that sounds like an episode of The Twilight Zone, it easily could be, if only the film's events weren't so believably grounded in reality, even by Rod Serling's standards. With that comes the tendency to label this as a mirror reflection of current events or complain how it isn't taking enough of a "stance." Of course, that's precisely the kind of thinking this film rallies against and why it rises so far above similarly themed projects attempting to tackle such issues. It's about the story, leaving it all up on the screen for us to reach our own conclusions.
Georgetown University professor Ellen Taylor (Diane Lane) and restaurateur husband Paul (Kyle Chandler) are celebrating their 25th wedding anniversary with their adult children at the affluent family's sprawling estate. Attending are depressed environmental lawyer Cynthia (Zoey Deutch) along with her husband/fellow attorney Rob (Daryl McCormack), rebellious lesbian stand-up comic Anna (Madeline Brewer), aspiring teenage wildlife scientist Birdy (Mckenna Grace) and struggling novelist son Rob (Dylan O' Brien), who's accompanied by new fiancée Liz Nettles (Phoebe Dynevor). Polite and complimentary, Liz hopes to make a positive first impression on his parents, but Ellen eventually recognizes her as a former student who left Georgetown after the professor she pushed back on her controversial ideas advocating for a totalitarian government.
As Paul attempts to convince his wife that everyone deserves another chance, Liz gifts Ellen a copy of her latest book, The Change: The New Social Contract. Co-written with Rob, its contents sicken Ellen, who immediately realizes it's just an expanded, updated version of Liz's dangerous worldview. But by the time everyone next gathers, the book's already incited a full-fledged political movement that's sweeping the nation. And even while many of the Taylors remain vehemently anti-Change, Liz and Josh's power grows, as does their expanding influence, ripping the country and this family apart, just as Ellen warned.
Despite her employment at an academic institution under fire for its liberal leanings, Ellen categorizes herself as "non-political," believing such labels cause people to see only the truth they've conditioned themselves to accept. But what's more interesting is writer Lori Rosene-Gambino's choice to withhold the specifics of Liz's hugely influential novel beyond a brief excerpt and Ellen's descriptions of it as "anti-democratic" and "fascist." The film's actually less concerned with outlining what's in the book than showing us its subsequent impact, all while Ellen remains ahead of the curve, her premonitions about Liz's true intent initially falling on deaf ears.
Ellen knows Liz's incapability for growth, but any suspicions that a vengeful former student is back to infiltrate this family eight years later are dismissed by husband Paul as paranoia. And Lane gives one of her strongest performances in years as a wife and mother whose mannerisms can barely suppress the frustration that no one's seeing what she is, especially Paul, who's more interested in keeping the peace. But when Ellen gets an early glimpse of Liz's soon-to-be bestseller, she completely snaps, unable to contain herself any longer as the Change starts catching on.
We easily understand how everyone else would accept the self-assured Liz at face value, or at least assume she doesn't pose the massive threat Ellen speaks of. Coming across as friendly, intelligent and put together in every way, there's no reason to suspect the worst, aside from maybe wondering what she sees in a floundering Rob. But Dynevor's sneaky performance hints that something's off as Liz maintains this blank, almost coldly emotionless poker face the entire time. After a while we'll realize she's there with a single-minded purpose, even while continuing to question whether she's really capable of all Ellen alleges.
Much to Paul's displeasure, an explosive Thanksgiving family dinner erupts when the action leaps forward two years and it's increasingly hard to ignore for him to keep ignoring politics at the table. It's also difficult not to notice an unrecognizable Rob's transformation from geeky, self-loathing journalist into cocky, belligerent control freak. And few feel the wrath of that quite like outspoken sister Anna, who uses using her public platform to condemn the Change before facing disastrous consequences when more than just her first amendment rights are stripped away. Cynthia isn't thrilled about any of this either, with her depression and marital problems with Rob compounding an already dire situation.
The wild card is an introspective Birdy, who's played by an impressive McKenna Grace, whose quietly heavy lifting leaves her character's intentions up in the air. A confused, curious teen still figuring things out, we read the teen's expressions and mannerisms looking for hints, until realizing she may not know herself. Torn between an intense, anti-Change activist boyfriend Moses (Sky Yang) and a brother and sister-in-law looking to exploit her perceived vulnerability to their advantage, Birdy's allegiance is unclear. And yet she's stronger than they think, but also somehow weaker, with nothing fully preparing us for how important to the story she'll become.
With its stars centered in the middle, The Change regime's American flag is a clever, distorted perversion meant to symbolize the country joining in the middle, supposedly free from political parties and division. Of course, what that really means is an oppressive single party system that foists its beliefs on the nation with force. The distressing sight of it shakes Ellen to her core, causing her to do something she'll regret, or maybe not, since the character's defining trait is her unwavering commitment to standing up for what she believes. But whether a single book can carry this level of cultural currency and influence might be the wrong question to ask when sometimes all it takes is a small spark to set social media ablaze, allowing the public to take care of the rest.
The film's masterful in its escalation as Lane and Chandler's stressed characters subtly age a lifetime, deteriorating before our very eyes as they wonder how things went so spectacularly wrong, especially in raising son Rob, who Liz easily molds and manipulates into the person he thinks he wants to be. O' Brien's metamorphosis as Rob is the stuff of nightmares, particularly during his tense sit-down with Paul in the film's second half, as the latter now grasps the enormity of his own son's actions, finally drawing a line in the sand.
The always underappreciated Chandler plays Paul as a hardworking, salt of the earth everyman who isn't exactly naive, but chooses to see the best in people, especially his own family. He sees this as a problem that can be temporarily ignored, if not fixed, with small talk and a some burgers. Unfortunately, by the time he heeds his wife's warnings and hunkers down for an ugly fight, the country's careened into an Orwellian surveillance state, reinforced by a chilling third act census visit. But when any political movement gets too big and dangerous to control, no one's immune from the consequences, including those supposedly in charge.
What starts as a dysfunctional family drama morphs into an American tragedy before emerging as a full blown suburban nightmare that hits too close to home. It also boasts a loaded dream cast where each member stands on equal footing, their respective performances peaking at various points to cohesively form pieces of a much larger puzzle. Starting with an anniversary party and ending with a far different one, its incisive, unsettling script comes full circle with mind blowing developments and a guarantee you'll never hear Crowded House's "Don't Dream It's Over" the same way again.
In a less fragmented viewing landscape and with proper studio support, you can envision a scenario where Anniversary becomes one of the more hotly debated and discussed releases of the past year. Instead, Lionsgate seemingly buried it with a generically inoffensive title that hints at them not knowing what they had or maybe even being scared to promote it. Simply calling this The Change would have been a better call, at least drawing attention to the controversial uprising at the story's core. But audiences willing to put preconceptions aside and embrace this at face value can prepare for a thriller as terrifying as it is thought provoking.
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