2024 Top Ten List #9 The Beast (La Bête)

 

Director Bertrand Bonello

Bonello on the set with Léa Seydoux

THE BEAST (La Bête)          A-                                                                                              France  Canada  (146 mi)  2023  d: Bertrand Bonello

The first idea was to do a melodrama, which is something I’ve never done before, and that drove me to a short novel by Henry James called The Beast in the Jungle.  For me, it’s one of the most heart-breaking, beautiful, and awful stories you can imagine.  I wanted to mix this with some genre [elements], because, in James’s novel, love and fear are so related.  So I wanted to have some ‘fear’ scenes,  and there is almost a slasher movie inside this film.  The other thing, that came quite quickly, was the desire to do a film, for the first time in my life, in which the main character is female.           —Bertrand Bonello

One of the better films exploring the boundaries between fiction and reality, revealing just how elusive reality can be.  Bonello, who is also a professor at the prestigious La Fémis, is a French director whose films deal with provocation, the difficulty of human relations, the anguish of living, the sexual condition, and abstraction, from the opulently beautiful House of Tolerance (L’Apollonide – souvenirs de la maison close) (2011) to the misguided radicalism of the selfie generation in Nocturama (2016).  Yet it’s his first film, the rarely screened SOMETHING ORGANIC (1998), that really stands out, made for $100,000 and shot in just 15 days, where especially memorable is a woman’s inexplicable journey to the farthest northern region in Canada, where she’s the lone female in a sparse makeshift town enveloped in snow next to an oil rig on Hudson Bay, where all that’s open is a drinking establishment, expressed in extreme quiet, where she eventually has a drink with every guy in town, leading to staggering consequences.  While that is a minimalist aesthetic, this massively ambitious effort is a riveting, two-and-a-half-hour mind-altering, sci-fi adaptation of the 1903 Henry James novella The Beast in the Jungle (which can be read in its entirety in less time than it takes to view this movie), a cautionary tale where a man refuses to love as he’s overcome by a belief that something horrible will happen, so he puts his life on hold, postponing everything, entering a metaphoric waiting room, until it becomes apparent that his anxious-ridden withdrawal from life *is* the monster he’s been avoiding.  But this is no literary adaption, as the director instead expands upon his own wildly inventive themes, mixing classical and contemporary, switching the gender to a female perspective, as we are immersed into the life of a woman named Gabrielle Monnier (the utterly fabulous Léa Seydoux, a once-in-a-generation talent with astonishing assurance and range) spanning three different time periods, each referencing a timeline of emotions through real-life historical catastrophes, the flooding of Paris in Belle Époque France in 1910, a period when fears and emotions are completely repressed, a Los Angeles earthquake in 2014 when they are overexpressed and overwhelming, and a placeless, dystopian future of 2044 when they are totally absent, as artificial intelligence has taken over the world.  In each time period she bumps into the same man in her life, Louis Lewanski (British actor George MacKay in a role initially envisioned for Gaspard Ulliel, to whom the film is dedicated, who died tragically in a ski accident in 2022), where her connection to him is clouded in mystery and intrigue, yet she is intrinsically drawn to him.  Like a time-travel story, reminiscent of the largesse and ominous feel of Chris Marker’s La Jetée (1962), they are destined to find one another through space and time, consumed by the deep-seated terror that some strange, horrible unknown is about to obliterate her, where that fear prevents either of them from realizing who they want to be.  Curiously, there is another film adapting the same Henry James novella, Austrian filmmaker Patric Chiha’s THE BEAST IN THE JUNGLE (2023), taking place in a nightclub awaiting an impending apocalyptic event.  Rejected by the Cannes Film Festival, it instead premiered in Venice and has played the festival circuit.  Structurally, the closest thing this resembles is Michel Gondry’s ETERNAL SUNSHINE OF THE SPOTLESS MIND (2004), especially the erasure of memory, as in the future humans are viewed as a useless burden, where emotions are perceived as a weakness and a threat to a productive society, leaving only menial jobs available, nothing that requires any intelligent aptitude, so in hopes of obtaining a better job (they cross paths during interviews), Gabrielle reluctantly undergoes a DNA purification procedure that will wipe out her strongest emotions, described as “affects,” in an effort to find a more fulfilling job while keeping pace with more productive AI counterparts in the workforce.  But in doing so, she experiences flashbacks to previous lives, each containing traumatic memories.  Written by Bonello with contributions from Guillaume Bréaud and Benjamin Charbit, even composing his own musical score with his daughter Anna, this is a wild ride of a movie with constantly shifting time periods, mood alterations, and atmospheric shifts, with brief snippets from Harmony Korine’s TRASH HUMPERS (2009) thrown in for good measure, also Xavier Dolan (one of the producers) as the Alphaville (1965)-like AI voice of a computer, where very little is actually explained for viewers.  Veering into moments of horror, the entire film is embedded in a baffling enigma of bewilderment, something of a mindfuck of a movie, a sensory surprise, but in the best possible sense, as it’s an eerie and positively transfixing experience, where the title may actually refer to the fear of love, or the ferocity of unrequited love in a Sisyphean cycle of missed opportunities through the strands of time, potentially leaving one imprisoned in the purgatory of Sartre’s hellish No Exit, forever denied the essence of our own existence.  Even the end credits are shrouded in secrecy, as they are hidden behind a QR code, leading to an audience of smartphones pointing at the movie screen, revealing the credits and perhaps even an unseen sequence, before the lights come on in the theater.  The end.  But the end of what, you may ask?        

Using melodrama in a world that’s largely emotionless is not an easy thing to pull off, yet it’s handled deftly, as the filmmaker is directly involving the audience, making sure they feel the totality of the deeply unsettling experience.  Having worked with this director twice before in ON WAR (2008) and SAINT LAURENT (2014), Seydoux feels completely comfortable and at ease around him, having the freedom to explore on camera, as she has a very instinctual approach, sharing a common artistic vision, developing a firm belief they are collaborators.  Inspired by a crippling fear of the unknown, Bonello transposes the loneliness and fatalism of the source novel into a postmodern world obsessed with eliminating any connection to feeling anything at all, where there’s a core of anxiety running through this movie.  In our struggle against loneliness, we are oftentimes our own worst enemy, creating imaginary obstacles that stand in our way in order to justify our perceived failures.  While never actually specified, the world of the future has experienced some sort of natural disaster, possibly biological, as no cars are seen, no presence of social media, and no social life at all, while people on strangely empty streets are wearing protective face shields, with AI leading humanity into a newer, safer existence, where humans are expected to purge their flaws and weaknesses in order to conform to a more ordered and robotic future.  While some have suggested this film takes on the same grandiose scope as the Tom Tykwer and Wachowski sister’s sci-fi spectacle Cloud Atlas (2012), constantly moving backwards and forward in three different time frames, but that does this film a disservice, as it’s not anything like the jumbled mess of that film, displaying much more originality, told in an intensely personal manner that is uniquely challenging to viewers, seen through the eyes of a single character, where it’s the power of Seydoux’s extraordinary performance that compels viewers to stick around through the lengthy duration.  French-Canadian cinematographer Josée Deshaies, the director’s wife, is in complete command, providing the exactitude of Kubrickian compositions, including extreme close-ups, while also giving expression to the unspeakable.  The earlier historical period was shot on sumptuous 35mm, giving the screen a sensual texture, while the other sections were shot on digital, providing a stark contrast of sterility and coldness.  In the opening prologue sequence an actress is asked by the offscreen voice of Bonello, “Can you get scared by something that’s not actually here?”  She is then seen performing before a green screen in a horror movie, given specific instructions of what to do when the camera rolls (Ironically, Seydoux has largely avoided CGI scenes in her career choices, working almost exclusively in arthouse cinema).  In an empty room she screams, moves around, picks up a knife, and imagines herself confronting an unidentified beast, where the bare-bones nature of the minimalist set forces viewers to imagine the scene playing out in their minds before it happens, setting the stage for images and abstract ideas that follow.  It’s then over an hour or so before that scene actually appears in the movie.  It’s a clever device that works beautifully, where her instructions to scream recalls Fay Wray’s rehearsal instructions for a dreaded encounter in King Kong (1933), both terrified at the sight of some unseen beast, having absolutely no idea what it is, yet viewers can tell immediately that they’re in good hands, as this is a director who can navigate our journey through the unexpected, where it’s an exhausting yet fascinating aesthetic, not really like anything else we’ve seen.  That opening scene gives notice that the film is really about Léa Seydoux, as Bonello wrote it for her, and she is the driving force of the film.  Gabrielle is a virtuoso pianist in turn-of-the century Paris, gracious, well-mannered, and immaculately dressed, seen wandering around a museum-like setting at a high society party with champagne flowing as she strikes up a conversation with the elegantly dressed Louis, cutting a dashing figure in his tuxedo, admiring a series of paintings that she describes as “Violent, psychiatric, and rather beautiful.”  He then reminds her they met years ago when she somewhat drunkenly confided to him a startling fear, making him the only other person aware of her secret, recounting the conversation almost exactly, where he promises the utmost confidence in protecting her, a pledge she does not take lightly, impressed by how he so accurately remembers the precise details after the passing years, as it obviously made an impression on him, The Beast (La Bete) new clip official - Venice Film Festival 2023 YouTube (1:32), yet that fear of something terrible happening prevents them from fully consummating their love.  This rekindling of passion, however, which doesn’t exist in her overly safe marriage, suddenly coincides with taking a big risk.  Like a manifestation of her own fears, Paris is suddenly submerged in water, where a plan to escape together goes terribly awry, yet produces some of the most extraordinary images of the film. 

Combining elements of sci-fi, melodrama, horror, and romance, the film accentuates the intense loneliness and disconnection that has become a fixture of contemporary life, which is especially prominent in the English-speaking Los Angeles section, meeting at a retro-themed disco that changes musical styles by specifically chosen years, where Gabrielle is a model and aspiring actress house-sitting in a thoroughly modern glass mansion in the Hollywood Hills, while Louis is an angry man, a 30-year old virgin who only has sex in his dreams, consumed by an unrelenting hatred of women.  We see him literally stalking Gabriella from his car, planning a home invasion while broadcasting his misogynist manifesto live on YouTube, promising to punish women for not having sex with him, claiming he is “the perfect gentleman,” and that women who deny him sex are committing “reverse rape,” views that are so absurdly extreme they carry a bleak hilarity in their mocking commentary, yet his grandiloquent pronouncements are chillingly real.  The 2014 incel version of Louis, Incels (Involuntary celibates), is based on Eliot Rodger (Elliot Rodger: How misogynist killer became 'incel hero'), who killed six people and injured 14 others near the Santa Barbara campus of the University of California on May 23, 2014 before shooting himself in his own car.  Even the shattering experience of an earthquake fails to bridge the divide, as our young protagonists are brought together on the street afterwards, but there remains an eerie underlying discomfort, Clip: The Beast (Janus Films, Sideshow Films) YouTube (1:25), giving rise to scenes that resemble the car slasher mode of David Fincher’s ZODIAC (2007).  Whenever they encounter each other, a disquieting passion lingers between them, as she’s drawn to a version of him that seems to exist only in her head, yet the transformation of Louis is especially fascinating, unexpected, and highly disturbing.  In their initial encounter at the beginning of the film, he remarks, “Fulfillment lies in the lack of passion,” an astute observation that seems to accurately describe a sentiment felt throughout this film.  Even in 1910, when offered the opportunity to be painted by a Lucian Freud-like artist, she declines, claiming “I don’t want to lose my soul.”  And in the future, when contemplating an erasure of her most precious memories, she values her capacity to be moved and react authentically.  While there are ominous signs from the recurring appearance of pigeons, a pair of digital psychics, a computer malware infestation, and a connecting leitmotif from Puccini’s tragic opera Madame Butterfly, the strongest metaphor running throughout the film comes from a variety of dolls, an artificial model for what it is to be human, and a prototype for the possible replacement for the human race.  At the turn of the century, Gabrielle’s husband owns a doll factory, which she tours with Louis, who comments on their expressionless faces, designed “to appeal to everybody.”  One of the most haunting images in the film is her imitation of that “neutral” facial expression void of emotion that she holds, a look that lingers long afterwards (Is that our future?).  In 2044 after her DNA cleanse, an AI robot named Kelly (Guslagie Malanda from Alice Diop’s 2023 Top Ten List #3 Saint Omer) offers help and support, even planting a kiss while inviting her to have sex, but Gabrielle dismisses her as merely a doll.  Another weird doll sits on her desk during the LA house-sit making odd noises, as if having a life of its own, like an alter-ego of her character.  The film is an exploration of the existential, of what it means to be human, as Gabrielle is haunted by a lingering sense of dread, by her fear of “The Beast,” a metaphor for death and the fear of death, an experience only humans on this planet can comprehend, as Gabrielle fears “obliteration.”  The shocking red curtain finale is an overt reference to David Lynch, right down to the strains of Roy Orbison drawing a tear, Roy Orbison ~ Evergreen (Stereo) YouTube (2:51).  A final credit sequence without any listing of names, just a QR code, puts the final stamp on where the coldness of technology can finally take us in the future, a world with no feelings at all, where love is actually an impediment to personal fulfillment.  Whatever you may think of this film, it is uncompromising, resulting in a dizzying, often spellbinding experience, where the ambiguities are intentional and purposeful, as a film with this depth and magnitude is a constant reminder that the malaise of the present, surrounded by invisible forces we cannot control, is a harbinger for the future, where the decisions we make actually matter, leaving behind our human imprint.  

Bertrand Bonello on The Beast - Film Comment  Devika Girish interview podcast (35:22)

Nocturama

NOCTURAMA            B                  

France  Germany  Belgium  (130)  2016  ‘Scope  d:  Bertrand Bonello

Another variation of Fassbinder’s THE THIRD GENERATION (1979), a political film set during the era of the Baader-Meinhof Gang (later called the Red Army Faction), revolutionary cells in the 70’s that carried out terrorist activities across the country, wreaking havoc with the status quo.  Fassbinder’s film is more of a satiric spoof of the bourgeois elite who comprise an offshoot underground movement of leftist radicals who come across more like a gang that couldn’t shoot straight, a rag tag group that reads all the literature, holds clandestine meetings, and believes fervently in what they’re doing, but haven’t any coherent ideology to speak of, remaining utterly clueless about how to accomplish social change, instead it’s more of a lifestyle choice, where they believe what they’re doing is fashionably chic.  The biting sarcasm becomes even more exaggerated in this film, which is basically divided into two halves, with the first part nearly wordless, featuring various characters following an exact regimen, following their watches, with time repeatedly imprinted onscreen, as if everything is scripted and coordinated as they take metro trains, pick up or deliver packages, including keys to carefully placed cars, enter buildings, pass through security, and walk through endless hallways, most of it in real time, where it feels like a satiric take of a meticulously synchronized thriller, like RIFIFI (1955), but pales in comparison, as this is more spread out, covering more territory, where the audience has no idea what’s going on as no background information is provided, yet it all seems to be taking place in secret, behind closed doors or in cloistered chambers before finally discarding burner phones after exiting.  Something we find odd is that it’s hard to care about what these individuals are doing as none of the characters are revealed to the viewers, remaining blank slates, where an hour into the film we still haven’t a clue who they are or what they’re doing, where the aloof style of the film intentionally distances the audience, nonetheless, what it amounts to is a choreography in motion through the streets of Paris, like something Rivette accomplished in a variety of his films such as Out 1 and Jacques Rivette R.I.P. (1971), Céline and Julie Go Boating (Céline et Julie vont en bateau)  (1974), and Le Pont du Nord (1981), where he made it a point to crisscross through distinctly recognizable Parisian streets, creating what amounts to loving time capsules of a beautiful city.  Bonello on the other hand is content to travel through non-descript hallways and inner rooms that could be just about anywhere, where the city and featured characters remain discreetly anonymous.    

  

Certainly one aspect driving the suspense is a pulsating, electronic score written by the director himself, paying homage to none other than John Carpenter, whose haunting, atmospheric musical themes provide chilling counterpoint to his visceral thrillers throughout his indelible career.  As daylight turns into early evening, Bonello uses a device of four screens, like security experts watching a panel of different viewpoints, with explosions of violence erupting on each screen, followed by close-up views of each moment, where this is the first sign of what this film is really about.  When jolted into a better understanding of the master plan, the irony is that it seems small and insignificant, as the target was not human life, but they just wanted to blow up stuff, like the Weather Underground of the late 60’s and early 70’s.  But while the 60’s radicals targeted government buildings, along with several banks, they were also careful to alert these institutions ahead of time in order to evacuate humans to safety, while also sending a political message with each attack.  This group showed no such foresight, nor does it appear they are particularly concerned about others, as throughout the film they show a decided self-interest, identifying with the Selfie generation.  This scattershot approach to radicalism resembles Antonioni’s Zabriskie Point (1970), a picture of a fractured America expressed through a portrait of young radicals, police violence, capitalist cronies, endless desert landscapes and discontented youth, using unknown stars who had never acted before, where the prerequisite was not acting talent, but to flaunt their youth and be completely unashamed.  Jump ahead half a century and this film seems to be exploring similar themes, using a modern era context where smartphones have replaced the counterculture, where people are nearly always electronically connected to something of interest, resembling the giant advertising billboards in Antonioni’s film, as much of this feels entirely random.  In a mysterious turn, all the participants meet afterwards in an upscale department store, hiding to avoid detection until it is safely closed and locked up for the night.  While we see a few security guards start their rounds, in a gruesome turn of events, none are around to complete them, subject to a specific brutality that makes little sense and seems like it happened more out of convenience than anything else.  What’s radically different about this eclectic group of outsiders is that they have no common cause or ideology, where the director leaves out any hint at why this happened, suggesting they may not know themselves, which makes it all the more chilling. 

When an all clear is given, our motley group comes out into the open and is finally identified as a group, a collection of privileged white university students along with a couple of Arab kids, where it’s never clear how they all came together, or even what they were trying to accomplish.  Instead, a security guy from the building, a new character we’ve never seen, has complete familiarity with the building, turning on the lights as well as the escalator, where people are free to wander around at will, trying on clothes, playing with various electronic gadgets, even riding around on a little mini-car, as well as invading the food courts and liquor cabinets, turning it into a party atmosphere, breaking off into smaller groups, friendships or love affairs, where they even blast contemporary music out of the sound system, feeling very good about themselves, completely disconnected from their earlier business.  As they wander around the building, the interaction with name brands and recognizable merchandise adds a degree of interest, as they’re hardly anti-capitalists, as these kids are completely at home in a capitalistic paradise, happily indulging themselves.  While there are televisions galore to watch the city recovering from the attacks, most show little interest, where the lack of curiosity certainly stands out, as these are not the brightest kids, some obviously having it all too easy, where a brother and sister compare alibis given to their mother for a night away from home, revealing the kind of personal attachments they still have.  Borrowing the security guard phone, who must remain accessible to his employer, one even calls his mother to send his love.   Other than that, they are all cellphone free so as not to leave any traces for the police.  Without it, apparently, this kids are completely rudderless, as not one of them is seen reading a book or writing something of significance, instead they appear bored with themselves and each other, as if that is their driving force.  As they wander the grounds, one of them even goes outside to smoke a cigarette, exploring the vicinity, asking about what happened, clearly unafraid of being seen by security cameras or the thought of being captured, even inviting a homeless couple inside, telling them there is plenty of food, adding a Buñuelian touch of the macabre when they have a feast and gorge themselves, where it all looks so ridiculously out of place, perhaps the only carefree zone in the entire city that is not affected by what is being described as terror attacks.  Occasionally one or two of them will have thoughts about what might happen to them, even thinking the worst, but they’re only really thinking of themselves.  Without warning, or revealing how they found out, a SWAT team moves into the ground floor and works its way up each floor, radically altering their smug view of themselves.  Immediately, two films come to mind, the fatalism of van Sant’s ELEPHANT (2003), where viewers remain clueless to the killer’s motives throughout, yet the camera wanders the halls first revealing the banality of just another ordinary day before the armed killers alter the mood entirely by seeking to execute anyone they see in those same halls, but also Fritz Lang’s M (1931), where the police systematically go floor by floor in a similar multi-floor office building that is closed for the night, hunting a trapped criminal suspect who is hidden somewhere inside.  But Lang builds an extensive psychological profile of both the deranged criminal and the police while all but inventing the police procedural film, while this in comparison feels overwhelmingly empty, void of any real purpose, with characters we never really get to know, where you couldn’t even call these kids terrorists, but in this day and age the police have little choice but to mercilessly treat them as such.  This film feels like terrorism light, as it’s not the real thing, becoming more of a satire on how easily kids can confuse grandiose ambitions with reality.