Volume 113: Beau Is Afraid
The Voice of Energy Vol. 113
Greetings, friends. Hope this finds you well. I'm currently drowning in a sea of work and family responsibilities, which is why this edition of the newsletter only tackles a single film. But it's a movie that people will be talking about for a long time. Without further ado...
Beau Is Afraid (2023, dir. Ari Aster)
Ari Aster did exactly what he was supposed to with his third feature film. After generating ample amounts of critical and commercial goodwill with Hereditary and Midsommar, the writer / director has returned with an audacious, uncompromising epic that is certain to divide even his most ardent fans.
Unfortunately what Beau Is Afraid also revealed is further proof of how little he trusts the intelligence of his audience. He thrusts the Freudian underpinnings of his latest story upon viewers with the subtlety of an open-handed slap, including a sure to be talked about scene late in the film that is laughable in its simplicity and embarrassing in its baldness.
For ¾ of the film's extreme running time, his distrust is forgivable. Aster continues to exercise remarkable control in his visual aesthetic even as his set designers pour on the details. Into this world, we find Beau (Joaquin Phoenix), a mentally unstable sad sack living in an almost unbelievable version of modern times where street vendors hawk firearms and naked men are eluding authorities as they go on a stabbing spree. Our hero is steeling himself for a visit to his overbearing mother (Patti LuPone) on the anniversary of his dad's death.
What follows is an outrageous journey during which Beau wanders from urban hellscape to suburban nightmare to idyllic woodlands — locations all fraught with danger. Worst is the well-appointed home of a couple (Nathan Lane and Amy Ryan, both spectacular) that promise to help Beau heal after he was assaulted and then hit by their food truck. Also living there, though, are a pill-popping teen girl furious at this interloper and a burly veteran suffering from cartoonish levels of PTSD.
This section of the film is closest in nail-biting tone to what Aster has presented on screen before. But it's also where the threads of Beau start to fray. He starts borrowing liberally from his filmmaking influences (David Lynch, Michael Haneke, Hiroshi Teshigahara) without bringing much new to the table.
Contrast that with the film's next section that finds Beau in the company of a bizarre theater troupe that performs in the woods. The obvious guideposts are The Seventh Seal and the dazzling artifice of Karel Zemen, but Aster jumps from that foundation into rarefied air taking Beau on a psychological Odyssey brought to life with vivid colors and rich CGI work.
It's only when Beau finally makes it home that the film completely unravels. The visual signifiers take on literal gargantuan proportions and Aster's understanding of women is revealed to be as blinkered and fearful as his main character.
I can't completely dismiss Beau Is Afraid. As I mentioned above, this is exactly the kind of big swing filmmaking that someone as talented as Aster should be able to attempt now that he's got Hollywood on his side. And it's certainly going to start waves of discourse that — like the film in question — will be equal parts fascinating and frustrating. (in theaters now)
Artwork for this edition is from Rose Wylie's exhibition picky people notice..., on display through April 30 at S.M.A.K. in Gent.
This newsletter was written on the unceded land where once stood the traditional village sites of the Multnomah, Wasco, Cowlitz, Kathlamet, Clackamas, Bands of Chinook, Tualatin, Kalapuya, Molalla, and many other tribes who made their homes along the Columbia River creating communities and summer encampments to harvest and use the plentiful natural resources of the area.