Karyn Kusama—The Invitation (2015)

I approached this film with no expectations, not having seen any other film by the director, not even the acclaimed Girl Fight (2000). I am not even sure how it ended up on my Netflix viewing list, possibly it was because Netflix classifies it as a “psychological thriller” and it was available, through streaming, for instant gratification.  But I did not expect much gratification. The scores on Netflix and IMDB do not indicate an overwhelming positive response.

I enjoyed The Invitation more fully than I have enjoyed any movie in quite a while. Maybe this is because my expectations were low, but I have been recommending it to everyone I know who has the patience to wait for the plot to develop beyond the stage of “Oh, it’s just another group of neurotic, over-privileged Californians.” While it IS about a group of neurotic Californians, it touches on several profound issues (death and dying, coping with grief and loss, the lack of cell coverage in many California neighborhoods) in ways that feel surprising and realistic at once.

At the heart of the film is a now-divorced couple who are meeting again at the invitation of the ex-wife, Eden, and her new husband. Eden has invited many of the old friends from whom the divorced couple has fallen away. Will, the ex-husband, and the one who is very uneasy about the meeting, brings his girlfriend, Kira. Just to add to the weirdness, the dinner is taking place at the gorgeous house once shared by Eden and Will. Will’s nervousness about the meeting is not dispelled by the necessity of killing an injured coyote, practically with his bare hands, after striking it with the car. I would have turned around right there. He soon has a lot more to be uncomfortable about.

Kusama interjects tidbits of information designed to make viewers more curious and heighten the suspense. Some of the hints point to the reason for the divorce:  a child who died. Eden announces that she has gotten beyond her grief with the assistance of a long spiritual retreat in Mexico with David, her new husband. Will, in contrast, obviously is still mired in depression, grief and guilt.

While most of the old friends make their best efforts to reconnect, there are missteps and embarrassed silences that add to the underlying unease of the whole evening, and the particular focus is on Will. When Eden and David unexpectedly sit their guests down to watch a video made during the retreat, the guests are introduced to a rather anodyne view of death, though it is clear the move to over-share strikes them as tasteless. The view of death seems both soothing and bland, though its personal nature leaves the guests squirming and unhappy. Death is not loss or darkness, they are told. Death is not to be feared but rather to be welcomed because it means safety, reunion, and an end to suffering. We all become part of one another, etc.. The guests react in several ways, all of which indicate that they did not enjoy the video. Tense discussion follows.

Everyone is on edge, plus there is a guest who is known only to Eden and David.  That guest, Pruitt (played by John Carroll Lynch, with an unsettling combination of reticence and menace), is someone they met at the retreat. Will becomes more paranoid and does a few things that nice guests do not do. Or should not be caught doing.

Kusama guides the narrative development very effectively, so from one moment to the next, the viewer does not know if Will is totally unhinged by his grief and getting worse in this environment or if there really is something weird going on with Eden, David and Pruitt. Time after time, viewer expectations of resolution are aroused and deflated.

In one short scene, Will watches with curiosity as David lights and hangs up a small red lantern in the yard. It is only apparent how significant this at the very end of the film. The underlying tension develops into high anxiety and a series of shocks, but Kusama expertly handles our apprehension by keeping our desire to know what’s really happening suspended between…well, you have to watch the film.

I appreciated Kusama’s rejection of plot and character stereotypes in the final scenes; more than that though, I was knocked out by the quiet, powerful visual image that ends this film.  The slow-dawning of its significance has really stuck with me. This deep discomfort seems just right for the current emotional climate.