'the beast' review

By Nadia Dalimonte

George MacKay and Léa Seydoux in The Beast

The power of what it means to be human is put on ambitious display in Bertrand Bonello’s The Beast, a hypnotizing sci-fi odyssey that spans time and space. Adapted from Henry James’ 1903 short story The Beast in the Jungle, Bonello swirls a techno future with a contemporary Lynchian L.A. noir and an Edwardian era love triangle. At the core of these intertwining worlds is Gabrielle Monnier (played by Léa Seydoux), a woman who lives in perpetual fear that something catastrophic will happen. Gabrielle’s fear dates to 1910, around the Great Flood of Paris, when she was a married pianist in mysterious liaisons with an Englishman named Louis (played by George MacKay). The two characters’ first meeting feels akin to déjà vu. Surely their paths must have crossed elsewhere, whether “elsewhere” is reality as we know it, or another version fueled by subconscious drives. Bonello’s film is concerned with losing the beauty of reality and the varied spectrum of emotions, good or bad, that make us human. The fear of not feeling things, and the manipulation of that fear by artificial intelligence, makes The Beast a startling modern day horror story. In Bonello’s version, the beast is brought out of the jungle and into a bleak dystopian future.

The Beast sets the stage with a futuristic concept that is both technologically advanced in its practices, and hauntingly realistic in its ideology. Partly set in 2044, the story takes place in a society where everyone’s lives are dictated by artificial intelligence, and human emotion is considered dangerous. To achieve neutrality, citizens purify their DNAs by undergoing a “purification” procedure that deletes centuries-old inherited trauma. Past lives are eradicated to cleanse human beings of emotion, so that life can be surface-level and free of complexities. When Gabrielle undergoes the procedure, she is faced with simulations of her past lives, among them an esteemed pianist in 1910 Paris, and a club-hopping house sitter in 2014 Los Angeles. In each decade, she encounters different versions of Louis (MacKay). The film introduces his character at a 1910 high-society party, where he exudes the energy of a tempting and passionate suitor. Yet there is something about his interactions with Gabrielle that carry an aura of impending disaster, as though another version of Louis is lurking in the shadows, ready to pounce. The 2014 storyline drags the most horrific version of him into the light: Louis Lewansky, a 30-year-old virgin of incel ideology who vlogs about how magnificent he is, and that women deserve to be punished for not being with him. Through this despicable character, Gabrielle still senses her past lover buried deep within; for instance, after an earthquake rattles the streets of L.A., she notices him outside her temporary home and invites him inside.

The film leaps through time to show how “the beast” takes on many different forms. Bonello first uses a green-screen environment to frame the story. It is unclear whether Seydoux is playing herself, or simply another version of Gabrielle, as she is instructed in a scene to act afraid of something that doesn’t really exist. Her palpable fear in this introductory scene sets the tone for a recurring sense of dread. Whether in the form of a natural disaster (flood; earthquake), a technological disaster (cyberattack), or a man-made hell (Louis Lewansky), fear ravages through The Beast like a plague. On the surface, the film presents as a sci-fi romance about two lovers reconnecting across space and time. Buried in the passion and yearning lies a deeply unshakable horror story about artificial control and existential dread. Continuing a page in the book of many great horror films, Bonello grounds horror in real fears. The film explores the beasts that we cannot see, hiding in plain sight. Much of what Bonello has to say involves the concerning rise of artificial intelligence, particularly the replacing of humans to generate images void of real emotion.

The 2044 storyline is populated with dystopian designs and muted expressions. An invisible substance cloaks the air, prompting Gabrielle to wear an enhanced face mask outdoors. The “purification” centre is surrounded by buildings marked with a year – 1972, 1980, 1963 – and each space has a disco with era-themed music. In Bonello’s future, lives of the past are within easy reach. Most of the scenes are visions of Gabrielle’s past that she experiences during the procedure. In reliving these moments, she becomes torn between wanting to continue living out the past and being fearful of spoiling the present. The play on time travel is a fascinating subversion of storylines that often populate the sub-genre. The story moves back in time not to change something from happening, or to analyze the ripple effect of one incident, but to hold onto what it means to be human. The dread that Bonello explores is that of losing emotions, and reaching a point where artificial intelligence causes a new way of life. Gabrielle speaks of such dread when she reveals, “I’m scared of not feeling things.” Whether good, bad, or everything in between, emotions make us feel alive. To love is to feel, and the romance between Gabrielle and Louis goes against all odds to survive a bleak future.

Bonello’s vision for The Beast is brought to life by a spectacular Léa Seydoux as Gabrielle Monnier, the film’s protagonist. Seydoux has the complex role of playing different versions of the same character, across various time periods, within an unconventional narrative structure. The story can be muddled and tricky to fully understand, but the majority of The Beast finds a steady anchor in Seydoux. The role plays to her incredible strengths of timelessness and emotional vulnerability. She carries just as much persuasiveness in the 1910s as she does in the 2010s and 2040s. Seydoux also establishes a powerful heart line that connects all these versions, so that they feel part of one entity. Gabrielle’s heartache for humanity is transfixing to watch, as is her chemistry with George MacKay, who plays her lover scattered across time. MacKay is an actor of impressive range, and he flexes his chameleonic muscles as three versions of his character Louis. The 2014 timeline in particular gives MacKay the most material to work with. He delivers a truly unnerving performance as Louis Lewansky that keeps you in a perpetual state of fear, and leaves you with the depressing fact that many versions of this character exist in real life.

The Los Angeles narrative in its entirety gives interesting context to the film overall, while also working as an effective horror standalone. The classical music adds to the nightmarish quality. The Beast marks the first soundtrack composed by both Bertrand Bonnello and his daughter Anna. Together they’ve crafted a mix of intense sounds that can shape a sweeping romance one moment and cut the tension of a murderous spree the next. Much of the imagery also lends to the nightmarish feeling of the L.A. narrative. One of the most frightening scenes takes place in a video call exchange between Gabrielle and an online psychic, while a dangerous figure looms around the house. The psychic, who initially appears in the 1910 timeline as a fortune teller, has an extremely Lynchian quality, from her surreal mannerisms to her ominous dialogue. Even in the face of potential danger, her tone is eerily neutral.

In a 1910 scene between Gabrielle and Louis, Louis refers to the doll factory that Gabrielle’s husband owns, and questions why all dolls have the same expression. Their faces are neither happy nor sad, just neutral. The subject of neutrality is often explored through the recurring symbol of dolls in The Beast. The 1910s lay the groundwork, followed by a modern talking doll in the 2010s, and a life-size companion doll (played by a tremendous Guslagie Malanda) in the 2040s. Malanda’s character encourages the endless possibilities of artificial intelligence (“I have many options you know, make the most of me”). This companion can be anyone and anything to Gabrielle, but nothing can recreate the real emotions that Gabrielle fears losing.

The Beast is full of bold ideas and grand executions. While the story is not the most coherent to follow, the creative vision puts you in a compelling trance nonetheless. Bonello wraps the intense fear of love with an ambitious sci-fi tale of 20th century affairs, contemporary horror, and a future that isn’t so fantastical. The dependency on technology and advancements of artificial intelligence put humanity in an increasingly vulnerable position. But human emotions are impossible to shake. The Beast tells an expansive, daring tale about what it means to really be alive.

The Beast arrives in theatres in Toronto and Vancouver on April 19.​