The Beast (2023)
The Beast is set in a future where artificial intelligence reigns supreme and emotions are considered a liability. But beneath the sleek veneer of this dystopian world lies a hauntingly beautiful exploration of love, memory, and what it means to be human. The film weaves a complex narrative that jumps between time periods. We meet Gabrielle (Léa Seydoux, always captivating), a woman in 2044 grappling with a mysterious illness. To find a cure, she undergoes a radical treatment that forces her to confront past lives—a passionate romance in 1910 Paris and a disturbing encounter in 2014 California.
The historical and cultural juxtapositions are fascinating. Bonello uses them to subtly critique the present, particularly the pervasive sense of unease and the erosion of privacy in our hyper-connected world. One minute we’re waltzing through a Belle Époque dreamscape, and the next we’re plunged into the grimy underbelly of the internet, bombarded with unsettling imagery. It’s a sensory overload that perfectly captures the fragmented nature of our times.
The film’s greatest strength lies in its central performances. Seydoux is phenomenal. She seamlessly embodies Gabrielle’s different iterations, from the wide-eyed innocence of her 1910 persona to the jaded cynicism of her present self. George Mackay, as her 1910 lover, delivers a performance that’s both tender and nuanced. Their on-screen chemistry is palpable, making their star-crossed romance all the more heartbreaking.
While the plot itself is intriguing, it can be a tad convoluted at times. The multiple timelines occasionally feel disjointed, demanding a patient viewer willing to piece together the puzzle. But the film rewards perseverance. The fragmented narrative reflects Gabrielle’s own fractured state of mind, creating a sense of unease that perfectly complements the film’s themes.
Thematically, The Beast is a rich tapestry. It delves into the power of love and loss, the allure of the past, and the ever-present threat of a future devoid of human emotion. Bonello doesn’t shy away from big questions, leaving us to grapple with the implications of a world sterilised of strong feelings. The film’s technical aspects are equally impressive. The cinematography is evocative, with dreamlike sequences contrasting sharply with the sterile, tech-heavy future. The editing, though occasionally abrupt, mirrors the film’s non-linear narrative, adding to its disorienting effect.
The Beast isn’t an easy watch. It’s a slow burn. And it certainly won’t be for everyone. When I went to see it, a couple of people walked out. And if some of the comments I heard after the movie had finished are to go by, some people just didn’t get what the movie was about.
But for those seeking a thought-provoking and visually stunning film experience, it’s a must-see. It left me unsettled, yet strangely hopeful, reminding me of the enduring power of human connection in a world increasingly obsessed with control.
If you’re looking for a popcorn flick with a clear-cut ending, look elsewhere. But if you’re open to a challenging and rewarding cinematic journey—one that you will need to work hard at—The Beast will satisfy you, and you’ll be looking for someone to discuss it with as soon as you can. An excellent movie for our times.