This is just ok, because its an unwritten rule that anthology movies only ever be just ok. None of these stories earned the celluloid they were shot on and there’s no escaping the stage bound feeling of the performances wrapped in cocoons of affected costuming. So lets do a ranking: 

R.M.F. is Flying
 R.M.F. Eats a Sandwich 
The Death of R.M.F. 

That this film reunites Lanthimos with his Greek, pre-mainstream collaborator, Filippou didn’t exactly have me giddy. Alps is up there with Larry Cohen’s The Stuff as one of the great wasted premises. Doesn’t help they couldn’t bother to toss a bone to Angeliki Papoulia, too busy with their new Hollywood besties. Flying has the queazy magical realism, and Sandwich a fluffy unseriousness that went down easy enough (not the worst way to end a nearly 3 hour film), but Death is the pits and the following segments can’t recover. Lanthimos’ returning interest in performativity doesn’t come with any insight, to the point I’m uncertain he ever had any. His characters role play people they are not for affection, to honor commitments, and for status with the grace & humanity of a Quentin Depeux movie. Maybe that’s the problem: Lanthimos is a middle-brow brand now and this material would be better served with a little less class.