Vivarium, a science fiction thriller from Irish filmmaker Lorcan Finnegan, presents itself as something unusual. It’s not necessarily an intellectually demanding story full of twists, but rather the narrative feels so strange that it's unlike anything viewers may have encountered before. While there are parts where the ambitious plot doesn’t quite succeed, Vivarium contains some striking examples of visual and storytelling techniques, enough to overlook the slower moments that hinder its pace. Finnegan begins with considerable energy, maintaining a tight focus that immediately plunges us into the mystery. This works well as tension starts to build within the first ten minutes. The performances from the main cast are already impressive, particularly Jonathon Aris, who establishes an unsettling tone through his appropriately eerie character, Martin. His limited screen time is enough to set the atmosphere; like Tom and Gemma, we’re forced to experience something intensely ominous that leaves a lingering sense of dread. However, this momentum begins to fade once Finnegan fully develops the plot, as it becomes clear that there isn't much more story after the 30-minute mark. The unsettling maze of suburbia is undeniably frightening, and the repetitive nature is effective, but after fifteen minutes with the child’s introduction, Vivarium starts to lose its impact and feels increasingly monotonous until about sixty minutes in. The talented Poots and Eisenberg, along with the deadpan humor, prevent the film from becoming entirely one-note, but this doesn't excuse several scenes that will be difficult to sit through, even during our current period of isolation. There’s a certain brilliance in Finnegan’s timing for the release, as what the main couple is experiencing mirrors the lives many are living during this pandemic. The reviewer found herself relating to the characters’ growing frustration and sympathized with their desire to discipline their child. Vivarium feels relevant now, and can be seen as Finnegan holding up a mirror to the idealistic yet treacherous idea of creating the perfect home and family. In fact, there are many underlying themes about the inevitable repetition that comes with settling into an “ideal” home, tolerating each other's flaws under one roof constantly. Finnegan exposes the potential dangers within the nuclear family and forces us to witness them firsthand. There are even moments where Tom persistently digs, refusing to be spoken to, helped, or interrupted by Gemma, who becomes dedicated to ensuring her son’s happiness. This scene is darkly humorous and will resonate with many, but for those trapped in Vivarium, it's a nightmarish cycle. The distorted utopia Finnegan creates is the most effective aspect of the film, brought to life through a Burton-esque color palette that is both beautiful and unsettlingly off-kilter. The early 80’s synth music, reminiscent of Romero’s *Day of the Dead*, effectively maintains tension throughout the film, even if the final act doesn't provide a payoff that justifies the slow middle section; it does reinforce the eerie atmosphere established from the beginning. Although Vivarium loses some momentum around its midpoint, by the end, the reviewer couldn’t shake the feeling of unease experienced over eighty minutes and acknowledges that this was an experience unlike any other. The reviewer has been feeling unwell recently, and this film only exacerbated those feelings. A commendable effort, perhaps? VERDICT Vivarium is a disturbingly unsettling suburban nightmare with a captivating story but limited opportunities for expansion. Getting through the dull middle section may be challenging, but once Finnegan reintroduces the eerie intensity from the beginning, there’s much to appreciate in this peculiar indie-sci-fi thriller.

Source on TMDB