Beau is Afraid

Four years after the release of the controversial and shocking Midsommar, auteur of modern horror Ari Aster has released his latest film, Beau is Afraid, which is bound to aptly fit into his filmography – but for different reasons. With his third film, Aster takes the well-known concept of a “mama’s boy” and runs with it, adding his signature demented flair to it.  But where Aster seemed caught up in the details of Hereditary’s unflinching tone and dollhouse imagery and Midsommar’s picturesque nightmare, the genre-bending and surrealist Beau is Afraid is a sprawling epic reflective of an assured director confidently taking the helm behind the camera and challenging the boundaries of the horror genre.

Beau is Afraid depicts the grueling journey of the titular Beau Wasserman (Joaquin Phoenix), an emotionally-stunted adult man with evident parental baggage, as he navigates his way towards his mother’s (Zoe Lister-Jones/Patti LuPone) wake after her unexpected death. Between a makeshift theater production in the forest and an encounter with a quirky yet suspicious family grieving the death of their militant son, Beau confronts his inner demons and unpacks his tumultuous relationship with his mother on this existential, never-ending quest.

An instance of surrealism where Beau envisions a future free from the shackles of his parents after witnessing a play, executed through the mixing of media and resulting in a boundary-defying scene

Throughout its three-hour runtime, Beau is Afraid exists on a plane between reality and fiction as the odyssey into the psyche of the titular character pierces the curtain between both planes without the audience ever knowing when that curtain is being crossed. The disorienting nature of Aster’s screenplay takes on Kaufman-like sensibilities with its absurdist moments of a naked serial killer – named Birthday Boy Stab Man – stalking Beau’s otherwordly neighborhood, the eccentric comedic beats of an abnormally large crowd invading Beau’s apartment, to the existential dread displayed through the play Beau finds himself in halfway through the film. Yet the film is entirely Aster, with his twisted sense of humor rearing its head through the countless unsettling moments found throughout. The surrealism within Beau is Afraid is only elevated through Aster’s direction which has never felt more liberated. Aster no longer feels the need to stick with pristine shot compositions and rigid camera work. In Beau is Afraid, the direction is fluid and free-flowing as demonstrated through the jubilant camerawork of whip pans that capture the chaotic nature of Beau’s dystopian neighborhood or through quick zooms that emphasize a comedic gag. Aster also tends to elongate certain scenes through long pauses or have the camera linger longer than necessary to instill a sense of discomfort and claustrophobia that caters to being placed in Beau’s troubled headspace.

Furthering the perplexing nightmarish aura of the film are both Lucian Johnston’s editing and Bobby Krlic’s score. The former abstains from making too many cuts in specific scenes as exemplified in a disturbing monologue delivered by young Mona (Zoe Lister-Jones) as she depicts the story of the passing of Beau’s father. Although the story itself is rather amusing, it is Lister-Jones’ deadpan delivery and Johnston’s editing (or rather lack of it) that creates an unnerving tone similar to being lulled into a nightmare. The seamless editing between Beau’s past, present, and numerous fantasies and the utilization of jump cuts that set out to jar the audience are other attributes of Johnston’s editing that contribute to Aster’s bizarre vision. 

Returning as the composer from Midsommar, Bobby Krlic creates this entrancing sonic soundscape with its orchestral strings that juxtapose Aster’s depraved imagery and heavy themes, true to the work done in their previous collaboration. Dissimilar to Midsommar’s score, though, Krlic molds a sound specific to the erraticness of Beau is Afraid with dreadful droning effects that are at times inter-spliced with off-kilter woodwind instrumentation. In some instances, Krlic will even introduce a new sonic aspect to the score, only to intentionally cut it off earlier than what is perceived as “normal” to carry over the film’s eccentricities within its sound design.

Selling the concept of which only a twisted person like Aster can conceive are the captivating performances. Joaquin Phoenix encapsulates the anxious and bumbling character that is Beau. Phoenix finds a middle ground between the screenplay’s humorous undertones and his character’s humanistic, empathetic qualities and exploits it to great effect. An awkward scene with a 90s icon needle drop is a shining example of Phoenix’s expert balance act performance. Where in the first act, Beau’s neuroticism and complaints will have you rolling in laughter, his same wailing cries for help in the final scenes will leave you in despair. Rivaling him in presence is Patti LuPone as Mona Wasserman, who for the short time she is in the film, imposes the screen with a threatening and intimidating energy befit of not only LuPone’s legend status but of the menacing character Aster has chalked Mona up to be for the entirety of the film.

Unabashed, eccentric, and unsettling, Beau is Afraid comes to fruition as the only film Aster could have released after his previous two cemented him as a powerhouse in the horror genre.Despite the daunting runtime, Aster’s disquieting direction and unpredictable screenplay result in an expansive odyssey through the mind of a man riddled with paranoia, guilt, and anxiety at the hands of familial trauma. The odyssey of which is only exacerbated by striking performances from Phoenix and a scene-stealing LuPone. By the time the credits roll, the emotional toll the audience takes mirrors Beau’s trek and makes the three hours all the more earned. Putting the few instances of pretentiousness aside, it’s Aster’s commitment to his vision, his vulnerability in displaying his internal ruminations and going places not many would dare to go that make Beau is Afraid a worthy entry in his filmography. In retrospect, it seems that Aster’s work built up to this very film. What is witnessed through Beau is Afraid is a director no longer restricted by a singular genre or by the notion of critics. To some, those confines might seem necessary after watching one’s man’s descent into existential dread and guilt as it was made for no one but Aster himself. But it’s that exact reason why Beau is Afraid is a triumph.

Verdict: Between the committed performances and Aster’s brazen and audacious approach to filmmaking being at its highest, Beau is Afraid is the easiest Nick Pick of the year thus far.