Beau Is Afraid

Edwin Arnaudin: As one of our fellow moviegoers sagely noted after our screening of Ari Aster's Beau Is Afraid, "How do you even review that?" I admit to being a bit lost in post-film ecstasy, marveling at the wild experience we'd just shared, and hadn't once considered how I might write the damn thing up. So, I'm glad that we're hashing it out together.

Any next day revelations for you or coherent answers for our acquaintance's question?

James Rosario: I haven't struck on anything definitive, or sussed out exactly what Aster is trying to tell us, but I think forcing us to revel in these mysteries is part of the film's point — and fun. I remember trying to figure out the meaning of Mulholland Drive after seeing it in 2001 and getting frustrated by my inability to hone in on David Lynch's cryptic messaging. Eventually I was forced to give up and simply accept that I would never understand exactly what Lynch was trying to say, and that it was more fun to extrapolate my own meaning based on my life's experience and values instead of wracking my brain trying to solve an unsolvable puzzle.

I think Aster and Beau Is Afraid takes the same approach. It may have a very specific meaning to the filmmaker, but that meaning likely will change with each viewer, and even with each viewing. I have theories about what this scene or that may represent, but I can't help but wonder how much of myself I've projected into what I've seen, thus obscuring whatever meaning Aster intended.

Is trying to glean meaning from a wildly epic and experimental film like Beau Is Afraid a fool's errand? Or is it part of the fun? Where do you land on this distinction?

Edwin: I too enjoyed being swept up in Aster's vision. The Lynch comparison is apt — Lost Highway was my frustrating "why doesn't this make sense?" view, promoting me to just let Mulholland Drive wash over me, which paid dividends. And there's some bizarre, Cronenberg-ian imagery, especially at the end.

But I was getting even more Charlie Kaufman vibes, particularly on a Synecdoche, New York and I'm Thinking of Ending Things level. There's surreal, darkly comic shit happening to Beau (Joaquin Phoenix, dipping into his Inherent Vice well) as he prepares to visit his domineering mother, blurring the lines between reality and the inner mind. I'm not going to pretend that I know what it all means but it kept me rapt for three hours and laughing quite a bit.

James: On paper, three hours is a long time to sit through someone else's paranoid fever dream, but I'll be damned if I wasn't completely invested and entrhalled for the entirety. I honestly think I could have sat another hour and not complained. Without Kaufman and Lynch paving the way, I don't thin Beau Is Afraid could ever exist in a increasingly franchise-driven industry, but boy am I glad those two weirdos walked so Aster could run.

(Arguably you could say that without Luis Buñuel, Federico Fellini, and other experimental pioneers we wouldn't have Lynch or Kaufman to begin with, but this is a deep rabbit hole best left for later exploration.)

But this brings up an important point: Is Beau Is Afraid meant to be enjoyed at all? Or is it simply meant to be experienced? I lean toward the latter, but my taste in movies skews toward thought-provoking over tidy and bonkers over marketable.

How do you predict general audiences will react to Beau Is Afraid? Or will they skip it all together?

Edwin: It's going to piss a lot of people off — including fans of Aster's terrific horror films, Hereditary and Midsommar. It's the opposite of a disposable blockbuster. It challenges viewers with the absurd and asks them to simply go along for the ride — a noble invitation if there ever was one.

And yet it's oddly accessible, thanks to its episodic nature. Don't get too attached to anyone because Beau's odyssey brings him in contact with new people and places every 30-45 minutes, which also adds to the unpredictability of it all. And each chapter is thoroughly realized in its production design and characterization, providing viewers with the full cinematic package.

To "answer" your first set of questions, I think enjoyment arises from embracing the experience. Again, this is a damn funny film and constantly in motion. Much of it doesn't make sense and even Beau is in a constant state of confusion, inspiring Phoenix to bring out some of his wackiest faces. But for me, it strikes a near perfect balance of weird and wonderful.

James: I agree. It's pretty damned mean to poor Beau (something Phoenix sells impecibally), but it's also an extremely fanciful and almost fairy tale-like story. Each "chapter" has it's own set of off-kilter rules and etiquette that Beau can never quite master, something that keeps him (and us) perpetually off balance. Think about the contrast between the city life he leads at the beginning of the film, to the suburban one he finds himself in next, and on to the forest and eventually "home."

Each environment acts and reacts wildly different towards Beau, even if all of them eventually reject him in the end. You could compare it to Alice in Wonderland, I suppose, but I don't think Lewis Carroll could have dreamed this up no matter what kind of hallucinogens he had access to.

Edwin: And the casting is spot-on, too. I didn't do any research on who else was in it besides Phoenix, so it was a delight seeing Stephen Henderson, Amy Ryan, Nathan Lane, Denis Menochet, Hayley Squires, Patti LuPone, Richard Kind, and the queen, Parker Posey, pop up. Each part feels written specifically for that actor, and they all nail their assignments.

Who from the supporting ensemble stands out to you?

James: I'm in the same boat as you. The only names I knew going in that were attached were Phoenix and Aster. Lane's near-psychotic politeness was certainly something to behold, as was Ryan's abrupt turn for the savage. Posey is, always has been, and always will be a national treasure that we should all feel grateful to share the same air with, so seeing her flaunt her eccentric chops was a high point and very welcomed treat.

What's so interesting is that almost the entire cast played a part that, on the surface, was what we've grown to expect from them. But oozing about just below the surface lay an unsettling menace that threatened to explode at any minute. Sometimes it did and sometimes it didn't, but the anticipation made for some extremely tense and uncomfortable scenes. I can't think of a single wasted or uneccessary performance. Can you?

Edwin: No, and even though I started to feel the runtime in the final 30 minutes, it all works and contributes to the epic accomplishment at hand.

And I would call this an epic. The three hours certainly contribute to that label, but also all that we've praised: the thematic and tonal ambition, the zany imagery, the big yet dialed in performances... and, above all, Aster's direction. I was already impressed with his filmmaking enhancements on Midsommar, but Beau Is Afraid operates on another level entirely.

And I'll confidently call it a masterpiece, too. I was enchanted throughout and consistently felt like I was in the hands of a true artist who was working through... something. I don't need definite answers, but I've got to speculate that a lot of this is autobiographical on at least the mother/son level. What's your theory on Aster mining his own family values for his third film?

James: I can't help but assume this is an autobiography (if one so extravagant it eagerly crosses into surrealism), but I think it's also a confession and an act of self-flagellation. Aster seems to be working through not only some anxiety-inducing "mommy issues," but also punishing himself for any and all past mistakes either real or exaggerated by overbearing authority figures.

Do Aster's real-life issues (whatever they may be) cut as deeply as Beau's? Probably not, considering he seems to be a reasonably high-functioning adult, but you can't make a movie like this without bleeding large parts of yourself into it. I hope it was at least cathartic for him because it certainly wasn't for me. And I mean that in the most congratulatory way possible. Aster's deliverance, despite its frequent use of unnerving elements, turned out to be one hell of an unforgettable film.

Do you have any comments on claims that it's "overindulgent"? Or does this kind of autobiographical tale neccessitate deep dives into one's self?

Edwin: This film has helped me understand the difference between "self-indulgent" and "overindulgent," and I'm grateful for the enlightenment. I've often considered "self-indulgent " to be the laziest criticism one can lob at a movie — don't we want our filmmakers to double down on their interests? Isn't that what makes movies personal and special?

Meanwhile, "overindulgent" hits on those instances when self-indulgent tips into esotericism and viewers struggle to latch onto the material at hand. While that's certainly happened to me (Lost Highway is a prime example), I don't think it's applicable to Beau Is Afraid. Who among us hasn't dealt with some form of the paranoia and anxiety on display here? This is firmly Grade A territory for me, and sounds like for you as well.

James: I would much rather see a filmmaker go hog wild on a subject they're passionate about than any paint-by-numbers uninspired drivel any day of the week. Even if the results aren't what I'd hoped for, at least they laid it on the line and took a chance.

But, in the case of Beau Is Afraid, the risks paid off in such an extraordinary way I'm still processing the rewards. That's not something that happens everyday, especially with a film that's so challenging. For that, I have no problem awarding the coveted A-plus.

Grade: A. Rated R. Now playing at Carolina Cinemark and Regal Biltmore Grande.

(Photo: A24)