The Nest (2020) Horror Movie Review

Even before the move, Rory and Allison (played by Jude Law and Carrie Coon) were dealing with a shaky marriage. However, they were so used to their family routines and caught up in their own lives (he's a banker, she raises horses and teaches riding) that they didn't notice the warning signs. The relocation to England, where Rory grew up, sheds a harsh light on all that's gone wrong.

Their children sense the tension as well. The teenage rebellion of their older daughter, Sam (played by Oona Roche), becomes more apparent after the move, evolving into open cynicism and hostility. Sam's disapproving looks during her parents' arguments become a powerful image in the film. The youngest, Ben (played by Charlie Shotwell), retreats inward, prompting concern for his well-being.

Director Sean Durkin, known for "Martha Marcy May Marlene," crafts a film that speaks volumes without explicitly spelling everything out. It's like a well-crafted short story or a poignant song that explores the stages of a magnetic but troubled relationship. Durkin's script and direction are precise and compassionate, avoiding excessive sentimentality. The cinematography, editing, and score all work seamlessly together.

While "The Nest" can be heartbreaking, it also offers moments of sheer beauty. These instances capture the simplicity and perfection of what each scene chooses to highlight. Whether it's the sound of Rory's anxious breathing and the echoing steps of his dress shoes on a gravel road as he heads home at dawn after a night in the city, or the camera zooming in as if an unseen, chilling intelligence is watching the family, each moment is carefully crafted. The film features a wide shot of Allison, in a rebellious state, dancing alone in a nightclub, or a distant shot of Ben hiding in a messy room during his sister's wild party—anything involving Allison and her beloved horses.

Jude Law, who also co-produced the film, delivers one of his finest performances as Rory. The character seems like a culmination of Law's previous roles, from the Gatsby-like figure in "The Talented Mr. Ripley" to the charismatic but flawed Alfie. There's a hint of "Mad Men's" Don Draper in Rory too, as he leverages his charm to sell things, but falters when it comes to details and financial responsibility. The film's spiritual connection to Burt Lancaster's "The Swimmer" is noted, not just through the "Mad Men" link but also in the script's skillful blend of direct observation and subtle references to mythology and legend. Law's performance, reminiscent of Lancaster, is animated by a philosophy and a vision of life, perhaps reflecting a self-examination that ties Rory's character to aspects of Law's own life.

Carrie Coon not only matches Jude Law's performance in "The Nest" but, in some aspects, surpasses it. What makes her portrayal even more remarkable is that she's relatively new to many viewers, gaining recognition through HBO's "The Leftovers" and the third season of FX's "Fargo." As Allison, she delivers a performance that's grounded, nervy, vulnerable, and technically flawless—impressing even more because it's different from the roles that initially brought her acclaim.

In a few key scenes, Coon's work is so focused and straightforward that it could represent the entire movie. One standout moment occurs during a dinner scene towards the film's end. Rory pressures Allison to join him and a colleague, Steve (played with strength and emotion by Adeel Akhtar), in an effort to secure important clients for their struggling company. Rory, facing financial and marital turmoil, overplays his role, presenting himself as a cultured man with refined tastes but coming off as a pretentious imitator. Allison, fed up with Rory's illusions, can no longer play along and lets her simmering resentment escape through cutting remarks, like steam releasing from a boiling kettle.

Coon's lead performance is reminiscent of Gena Rowlands' work with John Cassavetes in the 1970s. It's not just the character's intense demeanor, nervous smoking, or blond hair that draws the comparison. It's how Coon allows you to not just comprehend but feel what Allison is experiencing. She doesn't rely on showy techniques or overt signals to guide the audience; instead, she effortlessly conveys Allison's emotions as if you were in the same room with a close friend.

"The Nest" doesn't offer a pleasant or lighthearted performance. Allison, the central character, is a complex figure. While she loves her kids and appears fundamentally decent, she's in denial about her materialistic tendencies, projecting them onto her more conspicuously acquisitive husband, Rory. Wrapped up in her crumbling, codependent marriage, she fails to fully grasp her children's pain as a mother should.

However, when it comes to parenting, she's a better mother than Rory is a father. The film subtly challenges the tendency in breakup stories to sympathize with the charismatic antihero. In one scene, a cabdriver rejects Rory's self-pitying narrative, pointing out that providing the bare minimum for his family doesn't make him a good father. This unexpected moment of almost-extradramatic commentary becomes a satisfying turning point, as the cabdriver, embodying the viewer's perspective, declares, "Enough. We're done."

Clocking in at a brisk hour and forty-five minutes, "The Nest" feels longer in memory due to its rich complexity. Set in the 1980s, the film doesn't deliver a lecture on capitalism's failures, despite the era's backdrop of Reaganism and Thatcherism. It stands alongside the best marital breakup stories in cinema, such as "Shoot the Moon." The final scene, set at the breakfast table, leaves room for interpretation, allowing viewers to debate whether the marriage might repair itself or if acceptance of failure and moving on is more sensible.

As the end approaches, the characters and viewers align in understanding the state of things. The relief that follows this realization allows the tale of escalating discomfort to conclude on a note of realism and acceptance. "The Nest" doesn't prompt you to root for any character; instead, it prioritizes your understanding of them over approval.