Sacrificial Victims

“The Killing of a Sacred Deer” and “The Square.”

- Anthony Lane

People who recoil from the films of Yorgos Lanthimos, such as “Dogtooth” (2009) and “The Lobster” (2015), find them chilly and heartless, and even some of his fans would tend to agree. As if to counter that charge, his latest work, “The Killing of a Sacred Deer,” begins with an actual heart—the human organ, pumping lustily in plain sight. A patient lies on the operating table, with an open chest cavity, while the surgeon, Steven Murphy (Colin Farrell), completes his task. Once his bloody scrubs have been removed, we get a proper look at him: a solid and steady figure, in a jacket and tie, with a full beard turning gray. Here is a man, we sense, whose life is under control. It would take a great deal to disconcert him.

The rest of the movie is filled by the great deal. Even the plainest deeds, or the most innocent exchanges, are freighted with inexplicable unease. As Steven and his colleague Matthew (Bill Camp) walk down a corridor, the camera faces them and pulls smoothly back, with a faintly processional air. They are discussing wristwatches—water resistance, the choice of strap—and yet we feel like observers of a solemn rite. That feeling intensifies at the dinner table, where Steven is eating with his wife, Anna (Nicole Kidman), their teen-age daughter, Kim (Raffey Cassidy), and her younger brother, Bob (Sunny Suljic), who is told to sit up straight. They talk about haircuts (“We all have lovely hair,” Anna says), but, as before, the talk seems anything but small. Something larger is mustering, like a storm.