Vivarium: A Home Sweet Home Nightmare
Picture this: you’re a young couple, dreaming of the perfect home, and instead of a cozy abode, you stumble into a bizarre real estate nightmare. That’s exactly what happens to Gemma and Tom in Vivarium, a film that makes you question whether you should ever trust a realtor, especially one who looks like he moonlights as a villain in a low-budget horror flick.
Our lovely couple follows the enigmatic realtor, Martin, into a neighborhood that looks like it was designed by a committee of colorblind robots. All the houses are identical, like they were mass-produced in a factory that specializes in blandness. Seriously, even the grass looks like it’s on a strict diet of beige. But hey, they’re looking for their dream home, right? Spoiler alert: they’re about to find out that “dream” and “nightmare” are just two sides of the same coin.
Once they decide to escape this suburban hellhole, things take a turn for the absurd. Every time they try to leave, they somehow end up right back at the same house. It’s like they’re in a real-life version of the world’s worst game of Monopoly, where every space lands you right back on Go, but instead of collecting $200, you just get existential dread.
As time goes on, they encounter a strange, screaming creature that appears to be a child but is really more like a terrifyingly overcooked potato with a penchant for tantrums. This little monster is both incredibly needy and disturbingly self-sufficient, demanding to be fed and educated while simultaneously being a total nightmare. Can you imagine trying to raise a creature that looks like it crawled out of a dystopian art school project? Talk about a parenting challenge!
As if living in a never-ending loop of identical houses isn’t bad enough, they also discover that their lives are being monitored by some unseen force (cue the ominous music). When they try to rebel against the system by not feeding the potato-child, it just gets angrier and more demanding. It’s like having a toddler who’s also a black hole, sucking all the joy out of existence, while simultaneously reminding you that you can never escape your responsibilities.
In a final act of desperation, Tom tries to confront the absurdity of their situation, only to find himself trapped in the same cycle of monotony. Meanwhile, Gemma’s transformation from a hopeful homeowner to a weary prisoner is both tragic and darkly hilarious. It’s a bit like watching a sitcom where the laugh track is replaced with existential dread.
Ultimately, Vivarium leaves us with a profound question: What does it mean to be trapped in a life that feels like a never-ending loop of sameness? And can we ever truly escape our own suburban nightmares? But don’t worry, if you’re looking for a film that will make you laugh, cry, and reconsider the concept of home all at once, then this is your ticket to the bizarre.
So, if you’re ever house-hunting and a realtor with a creepy smile offers you a tour of a neighborhood that looks like it was designed by a committee of aliens, just remember: it’s probably best to stick with your current apartment, no matter how many cockroaches it has. At least they’re not trying to raise a potato child!