Beau Is…Good? Bad? Actually, It Doesn’t Matter

Beau Is Afraid’s quality is up for debate, but maybe that’s not even one worth having.

Beau has reason to be afraid. The audience understands why when seeing the first moments of his life: dropped on the head as a baby, spanked to show any sign of life, before cutting to a boiling title card that bluntly establishes his defining trait. After only a few minutes, the abstract mastery Aster presents in his third film Beau Is Afraid has shocked, unsettled, and informed. Appreciate that, because it’s all of the explanation the modern horror master has for his audience in this surreal, twisted odyssey that proves to be as thought provoking as it is disturbing, terrifying, shockingly comical, bloated, and everything else. Beau Is Afraid is an amalgamation of surrealist misadventures, one that both excites and bores, that both engages and distances its audience, and one that reminded me of my love for film.

Public response to Aster’s latest is mixed, much like the film itself. While some have appreciated the blend of confusion, hilarity and horror, others have found it nearly impossible to watch or understand. Maybe it’s subconscious refusal; modern audiences have pre-established dispositions to films over two and half hours and thematic nuance, making Beau Is Afraid an unmarketable movie without the A24 logo. However, that may also be giving the film itself too much credit. The intriguing thematic throughlines are enough to have left me thinking about the film since viewing, but at the same time, somewhat singular. The same message can only be sent so many times, and while displaying it in every twisted way he could conjure, Aster struggles to iterate on his own themes. This results in a pacing abomination: starting with bombastic chaos means Aster had three hours to never meet that same excitement, instead replacing it with what many claim to be confusing time sinks. 

Reading reviews for the film is confusing, and my previous paragraph probably didn’t help in your decision to see the film or not. It’s bad to some, perfect for others, and a consensus opinion seems miles away. But after seeing the film, after witnessing the uneasy Ulysses have a nightmarish adventure through a psyche of his mom’s creation, to even enter Beau Is Afraid with the intention of assigning a grade based on objective measurements of quality is reductive. And for that, despite my biggest complaints and dozens of minutes I simply did not understand, I think I kind of love Beau Is Afraid. 

It was around halfway through the movie when I took notice. Behind the fear I felt, the absorbing atmosphere I was lost in, and the resulting confusion incited by well timed jokes, I was thinking. I found myself deep within the film’s grasp. Just as Beau was trapped in his own psychological nightmare, Aster captured my attention and cradled it for the whole three hours. The themes are consistent with Aster’s previous works: loss of free will and the abject terror of life’s most common relationships, but never have they captured me so tightly through creative manifestations that balances ambiguity with the grace of a trained tightrope walker. Beau’s apartment is in a city, that much is understandable, but the production design and filmmaking prowess quite literally drew me in as I physically leaned forward in my chair, beckoned by the talent behind and in front of the camera to analyze each and every inch of a the frame to unravel the confusion. And that point is crucial, this movie is confusing, but it is decipherable. While watching, I asked questions, made connections between disparate elements, elements that were clearly placed for intentional misdirection or subtle thematic development. The cinematography and production design masterfully pair to construct an apocalyptic nightmare that engulfs the viewer, forcing them to engage with the material in a way that made Beau Is Afraid one of the most genuinely engaging and thought provoking viewing experiences in recent years. While everything about the film felt maddening, there is not a doubt in my mind all of it was purposeful. Unnamed extras repeatedly appearing in the background of shots had me investigating every corner of every frame for clues. That line of dialogue sounded vaguely familiar, where did we hear it before? Wait a second, if their child was a soldier, are they fostering his murderer? The best part is you wouldn’t even expect what I typed to be in a film about a man trying to find his way home, but if Aster achieves anything with Beau Is Afraid, it’s breaking expectations. Every beat of the film was abstract, but intentionally united in some way, and Aster constructs this experience to force audiences to parse through the material to find the answers instead of mindlessly consuming them.

And, simply put, I now realize how little of those viewing experiences I’ve had as of late. At risk of sounding pretentious (AKA, I’m about to sound unbearably self important), I’ve been watching a lot of Creed and John Wick to catch up with the newest blockbuster releases. These movies are not inherently better or worse than Beau Is Afraid, but they provide a viewing experience that Aster taught me I personally find less interesting than what Beau provided in all of its uncanny excess. Blockbusters have themes, blockbusters can be art, but they must choose to be, and Ari Aster chose to make a film he knew audiences would not easily accept, understand, or even enjoy. And that’s why I enjoyed it so much. 

Beau is not trying to be good or bad, clearly, as if Aster cared about other people’s opinions he would have made a film much less damning of his own psyche (seriously, this guy needs some help). Instead, I found Beau to be doing what I believe films should: explore and challenge. An action packed blockbuster may make for an entertaining two hours, but also a forgetful two hours. Meanwhile, Beau has occupied my mind for days after viewing precisely because I was not given the answers, exactly because the themes were articulated with ambiguity and subtlety. 

And in a cinematic climate of homogeneity, Beau sticks out as a beacon of anarchic hope for this viewer. I am by no means pretending to have all of the answers to Beau’s questions, but I can at least say I tried to find them, and as a result, I was welcomed with a more challenging, and by extension, enjoyable experience. Despite the confusion, no, because of the confusion, Beau is Afraid has stuck with me. Not because it’s a good movie, not because it’s a “so bad it’s good” movie. In fact, quality holds no place in discussing Beau Is Afraid. Labeling a film as abstract and daring as Beau as “bad” would only stunt the production of truly creative and exploratory film, and frankly, be missing for the forest for the trees. Focusing on the film’s quality in accordance with westernized storytelling rules and foundations instead of the themes completely dismisses the film’s intention. Aster came here to present his ideas through his own original creation regardless of critic and consumer consensus, and again, in a film landscape where corporate whims dominate artistic desire, I couldn’t be happier with the messy, confusing, and challenging film Aster created. Beau isn’t good. Beau isn’t bad. It isn’t trying to be anything but film, and for that, I love Beau is Afraid.