Kyle Chandler and Diane Lane in 'Anniversary.' Owen Behan Share on Facebook Share on X Share to Flipboard Send an Email Show additional share options Share on LinkedIn Share on Pinterest Share on Reddit Share on Tumblr Share on Whats App Print the Article Post a Comment Dystopia arrives with an alarming lack of specifics in Anniversary, a quiet thriller whose vagueness is precisely the terrifying point. Jan Komasa's absorbing feature revolves around something called The Change, which used to be a euphemism for menopause and in this case is the brand name of a political crusade, one that aims to "put 'united' back in these States of America" by promulgating a "no-party system." If you suspect that these descriptions are a form of Newspeak for a one-party system and a program of militant conformity, you would be correct. Peppering dashes of humor into its brew of foreboding, the movie views the rise of an authoritarian movement through its effect on a family of unbelievers, covering a five-year period that begins in celebration and ends somewhere very different. The wider societal implications are implicit in Anniversary, if also open to interpretation in a Rorschach-test way. Related Stories Movies Denver Film Fest to Honor Zoey Deutch, Ben Foster and Screen Robert Redford and Diane Keaton Films Movies Jennifer Lopez Turned Down Movie Role That Landed Another Actress an Oscar Nom: "It Haunts Me" Anniversary The Bottom Line Sly and chilling. Release date: Wednesday, Oct. 29Cast: Diane Lane, Kyle Chandler, Madeline Brewer, Zoey Deutch, Phoebe Dynevor, Mckenna Grace, Daryl McCormack, Dylan O'Brien, Sky YangDirector: Jan KomasaScreenwriter: Lori Rosene-Gambino Rated R, 1 hour 51 minutes Komasa, director of Corpus Christi and Good Boy (the one about a teenage criminal, not the dog-vs.-ghosts horror film), keeps the story tightly focused on the Taylor family, whose members find themselves shockingly close to the seat of newfangled power after the architect of The Change marries into their clan. The terror plays out on an intimate scale among this collection of characters, all of them vividly drawn in sharp strokes by the writing - this is the first produced screenplay by Lori Rosene-Gambino - and by the deliciously watchable and sometimes unnerving performances from an uncommonly charismatic cast. Ellen and Paul Taylor (Diane Lane and Kyle Chandler) are the kind of characters that often serve as stand-ins for America in Hollywood's aspirational vision of the country: good-looking, professionally accomplished, and socially conscious in a basic left-leaning way. Their sprawling waterfront home in the Virginia suburbs of Washington, D.C., while not quite the picture of Nancy Meyers-ish perfection, has a familiar big-screen patina of upper-middle-class comfort. The family house (a Dublin property portraying an East Coast homestead) is the story's physical center, and with excellent, subtle work by production designer Lucy Van Lonkhuyzen, it begins as an embodiment of connection and joy and, over several jumps in time, becomes a reflection of disintegration. Ellen is a professor at Georgetown - apparently of political science or a related field - and Paul's a chef and restaurateur. As the movie opens, their four children and a couple of dozen friends join them for a 25th wedding anniversary party in the backyard. They're still very much in love, and they're so effortlessly cool that at one point in the evening he says to her with a smile, "The kids found our weed stash." Those kids consist of three daughters and a son. The youngest, Birdie (Mckenna Grace), a high schooler and the only child still living at home, has a sensitive and quietly rebellious bohemian vibe and a head for science. She shares a strong bond with eldest sibling Anne (Madeline Brewer, who, like Grace, brings her dystopian bona fides from The Handmaid's Tale). Wine-gulping and queer, Anne is a standup comedian whose career has taken off, and her gift to Birdie of a Putney Swope poster underscores this movie's regard for what Anne lauds as "subversive satire" (a later throwaway nod to George Carlin emphasizes the point). Their sister Cynthia has a somewhat more cynical attitude, and the priceless body language that goes with it. She's played by Zoey Deutch, whose gift for wordless communication is in full flower here. Cynthia and her upwardly grasping husband, Rob (Daryl McCormack), are attorneys working together on environmental law, but they're not on the same page. The disconnect becomes more painfully clear every time they're onscreen, beginning with a comical interlude involving money talk and a red-light mask, and moving into devastatingly dark terrain. With judgy interest, the three sisters observe Liz Nettles (Phoebe Dynevor), the new girlfriend of their nervous and nebbishy brother, Josh (Dylan O'Brien). Liz, first seen rehearsing her party chitchat before the bathroom mirror, has a strange, flat affect, an icy stare and a not-quite smile, an