The Eurythmics’ “Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)” blasts during the opening credits of Yorgos Lanthimos’ anthology film, Kinds of Kindness, which features three stories.

The lyrics “Some of them want to abuse you / Some of them want to be abused” hint at the running theme of the Greek auteur’s return to his arthouse roots in absurdist cinema: Subjugation and extreme devotion, often associated with organized religions and characteristics commonly seen in cults.

The triptych features the same cast in various roles: Jesse Plemons, Emma Stone, Willem Dafoe, Margaret Qualley, Hong Chau, Mamoudou Athie and Joe Alwyn.

The three stories, each around 50 minutes long and penned by Lanthimos and his regular collaborator Efthimis Filippou for nearly a decade, bristle with religious and biblical subtext.

In the first story, Willem Dafoe’s boss character asks Jesse Plemons’ subordinate character three times, “Do you love me?” because the latter refused to comply with his demands. This seems inspired by the conversation between Jesus and Peter, where Christ asked the apostle to take care of His sheep.

While Christ undoubtedly taught us love, kindness and tolerance, Yorgos Lanthimos’ “comedy” is not a depiction of love — only cruelty masked by various forms of “kindness” in the form of corporate tyrants, cult leaders and generally abusive, controlling men. Their veneer of kindness is a bait, and some needy people become a victim of wolves in sheep’s clothing.

Kinds of Kindness is a complete departure from his previous Hollywood film, Poor Things, which, while still reflecting his absurdist style, is more accessible to audiences.

Kinds of Kindness, despite labeling itself as a comedy, lacks humor — it’s just weird without the wit. Reconnecting to his original art of weirdness laced with sparks of graphic violence and sex, it is as Lanthimos as Lanthimos can be.

Oftentimes, it feels overindulgent, but admirably, Lanthimos is unapologetic about his stories. Compelling and immersive, his sickeningly avant-garde work is genius in how he crafts bizarre stories that satirically address truths.

Individuals with low self-esteem and loneliness are prone to fanaticism and become blind followers. They become puppets, easily abused, used and taken for granted by their masters — threatened with excommunication, expulsion, banishment, or exile.

Consequently, these individuals submit with intense devotion, doing whatever they are told (run someone over, cut off a finger, read Anna Karenina, decontaminate themselves and so on), no matter how wrong or ridiculous, just to belong. They seek to be part of something meaningful, to belong to a self-important community.

Often, the characters in this film, when they exercise their free will, suffer from abjection.

But boy, the movie looks great. Lanthimos lenses his world with an arresting color palette and a mix of wide shots and super close-ups to convey necessary emotions. He uses black-and-white for memories, dreams and recollections. It’s a meticulous, self-assured and very calculated visual language.

The details are perhaps the most fascinating and nearly funny — particularly the chat about weevils, how this is more important to Dafoe’s boss character than addressing his employee’s urgent distress. Lanthimos even cuts to a memory of weevils attacking a palm tree, making you feel the passing time spent on something non-urgent. Here, the director accurately captures the inequality of master and slave, and the dangerous power and dominion held by some men.

What drives you to finish the film is the sense of intrigue, the dialogue that is brief but impactful and Plemons. Plemons is the brilliant element in all of this. Playing three different characters, he effortlessly portrays each one with such creepy authenticity, nuance and power — from a pitiful slave in the first story and an increasingly violent husband in the second to a passive gay supporting character in the third.

Running nearly three hours, Lanthimos tips the balance more in favor of shock value and style rather than pathos and dark humor. He may succeed in making you sick, cringe and wince, but it is all just dark with no humor.

While it prompts introspection on whether we are abused or controlled, or abusive and controlling, the outlandish style, packed with sex and violence, results in a bitter aftertaste.

2.5 out of 5 stars

Now streaming on Disney+