Most artists lend themselves to discussions that have a clear beginning, middle and end – it’s only logical to provoke audiences into linearly viewing their work. Yet, there are some to which this principle cannot be applied, because their work is too abstract and offbeat to be subjected to the same trite approach. Bertrand Bonello has been working for decades as one of the most original, inventive voices in contemporary cinema, crafting magnificent films, sprawling testaments to the human condition, filtered through unconventional, peculiar lenses that very rarely seem to bear any resemblance to the films of his peers, being a truly unique visionary and someone who cannot be adjudicated through the usual methods and instead needs to be considered based purely on the merits of his bespoke ideas. His most recent outing was The Beast (French: La Bête), in which he adapts Henry James’ seminal novella The Beast in the Jungle, setting it in the near-future of 2044, and following a young woman named Gabrielle who undergoes a procedure of “cleansing” her DNA in the hopes of erasing unnecessary memories, especially of previous lovers. The film leaps between different periods, such as Paris in 1910 and Los Angeles in 2014, and follows the protagonist as she forms relationships with various characters, particularly the mysterious Louis, who exists as a handsome and debonair gentleman in one timeline, and a vicious, vengeful incel in another. A truly unconventional work in which Bonello makes some of his boldest and most daring proclamations on the nature of humanity and our propensity for becoming too emotionally invested in experiences and people that do not add much value to our lives, and can occasionally be obstacles more than they are growth opportunities. Highly original while still very recognizable in terms of the fundamental themes lingering beneath the surface, The Beast is an impeccable work that finds the director at his peak, bringing the same amount of complexity and nuance to a notoriously challenging text, rising to the occasion and engaging critically with James’ novella and the multitude of ideas embedded within.

When Thomas Pynchon famously asked “Why should things be easy to understand”, he may not have realized he was essentially providing the guiding principle for generations of artists with a penchant for the unconventional and absurd. Suddenly, a work of art didn’t need to be understood to be considered effective, and there was even an argument towards the virtue of ambiguity as a method of artistic expression. Bonello is not someone who relishes confusing his audience, but he also refuses to succumb to the supposed need for a film to be easy to comprehend or abide by the unspoken rules of narrative structure. Instead, he chooses to take quite a dense, harrowing text that may not be entirely difficult but is still quite labyrinthine and filled with allegory that makes multiple forays into the story essential. The Beast is not a direct adaptation of James’ text, being set outside the specific milieux, but rather choosing to draw on the fundamental ideas, which are the experience of someone growing steadily more concerned that there is some lingering threat, an unknown “beast” that lurks in the shadows, waiting to pounce – and much like James’ story, The Beast defines this entity as the fear of time progressing itself, the paranoia that comes when we are so concerned with preserving our youth, we expend all our energy on preventing the natural march of time. This is the impetus for the story, but Bonello does go in many different directions, infusing the film with real-life subject matter, such as the Great Flood of Paris or the rise of incel culture in the mid-2010s, which seem to be rather odd narrative bedfellows (especially in how they’re juxtaposed with one another), but which certainly thematically relevant, amounting to a film that is fully in command of its many challenging ideas, piecing them together in such a way that the ambiguity eventually falls away and we are left with something wholeheartedly original and truly quite beguiling, even at its most disconcerting.

The Beast is a film about love and identity, and how they can be either perfectly compatible, or the foundation for a hopeless existence, depending on how one approaches something as visceral as falling in love, and whether one’s willing to hold onto the memories that are made along the way. This film presents the idea of memories as something ingrained in our DNA, a biological process more than a psychological one, and while Bonello is not the first person to explore this idea, he’s certainly demonstrating a very interesting approach, one that carries an abundance of significance in how it examines the intersections between one’s own identity and how much of it they share with others, the rest remaining embedded within their minds, potentially to be used as part of some future existence. The exact science with which this film is working is not clear, and it can’t earnestly be considered accurate enough to apply too much logic. Yet, we are still so fascinated by the way the director cobbles all of these ideas together through a precise and often clinical approach to investigating the depths of the human soul, reiterating the idea that we are not only connected to everyone around us in some way, but have lived – and will live – an infinite number of lives, each one being embedded in our genetic code, which can then be freely manipulated, but at a very specific cost. Bonello has some very ambitious ideas that he seamlessly weaves into the fabric of the film, constructing a vibrant and thought-provoking blend of science fiction, psychological horror, romance and social satire, layered with existential philosophy that instils in the viewer a sense of sincere dread that cannot be anything other than wholeheartedly authentic, despite the somewhat unconventional, far-fetched nature of the film. Bonello has always been an advocate for pushing boundaries further than anyone else, and the results are truly spellbinding, since he touches on several ideas that are oddly relevant, even when the film exists in a fundamentally more abstract, conceptual space than the usual examinations of human behaviour we tend to see emerging.

The two central roles in The Beast (and a few of those on the periphery) are beautifully constructed, but also very challenging, and require actors who are willing to embrace the madness that defines this film, giving everything they can to these difficult parts. There’s a bravery to what Léa Seydoux does in the part of Gabrielle that will astonish even her most steadfast detractors. Very rarely do we find actors more willing to challenge themselves to the point of teetering dangerously close to a breakdown, but Seydoux consistently shows her willingness to take on any part, granted it gives her something interesting to do, particularly since many of her earlier roles felt quite limited in terms of what she could accomplish. Her performance here is staggering – it’s a subtle, nuanced portrait of a soul across three different periods, each one perfectly defined on its own, but also working in tandem with the others to create this more complex portrait of the character. There’s a rawness to the performance that captures our attention from the first moment, and Bonello certainly knows how to bring out the best in Seydoux, having worked with her previously and clearly understanding her style as an actor. She’s joined by George Mackay, with Bonello taking quite a risk in casting a non-French actor in a role initially designed for the late Gaspard Ulliel – and both Bonello and Mackay work laboriously to make sure this performance isn’t standing in the shadow of the deceased actor but rather flourishes into its own unique, compelling character. Mackay possesses the ability to be both hopelessly charming and incredibly terrifying, and The Beast is the perfect example of these qualities being explored in tandem. The rest of the cast is solid but doesn’t have much time on screen – Guslagie Malanda is as fascinating as ever as the physical embodiment of the artificial intelligence guiding the protagonist through this journey, while several notable character actors and acting veterans appear for one or two scenes, contributing to the overall mosaic of characters that constitute this terrific film.

In addition to being one of the most intriguing visual storytellers of his generation, Bonello is also a visionary in terms of how he constructs his films. The Beast is one of his most formally intriguing works since it finds the director once again challenging the visual language of his work by crafting this sprawling existential epic that is as distinct as it is genuinely daring in how it is put together. His films always take place in such distinct environments, and whether making a period piece or something more contemporary, he places a lot of detail into the design of his films, which tend to be much richer and evocative than we may have anticipated. The Beast combines both, being set in multiple different periods – and each one of them looks distinct, right down to the simplest details, which often make the most substantial difference in how we interpret the film and its underlying themes. The oscillation between different periods is beautifully captured – Bonello tries many different techniques to evoke a variety of moods, and whether crafting a scene to reflect the soaring romance or pander to the deep, visceral fear we all feel deep in our souls, the film is masterfully constructed and showcases Bonello’s versatility, as well as his skillfulness at juxtaposing even the most unlikely of themes, placing them together in such a way that we are bewildered at how compatible they are in practice. The production design alone, both in the scenes that take place in 1910 and the modern and futuristic moments, is enough to make the film worth every moment of our time – the director constantly strives for authenticity, so while there aren’t many lavish setpieces, each frame is filled to the brim with unique details that make it a profoundly enthralling experience to just witness the sheer scope of ideas present in this film, and how they’re brought to life on screen. The cinematography by Josée Deshaies approaches these images as if they were paintings, each one perfectly composed with both precision and rawness, the blend of the two creating a series of unforgettable tableaux that perfectly reflect the underlying themes of the film and Bonello’s unique vision as a whole.

Not a film that is easy to comprehend, but one that is essential in both form and function, The Beast is quite an achievement, an unnerving and unconventional existential odyssey handcrafted by a director who had made it very clear that he is entirely incredulous to the concept of conventions, and will subvert them at every possible opportunity, even if it means challenging the viewer to think more deeply about their relationship with their surroundings, and perhaps even their psyche. It may not be the towering achievement that was House of Tolerance or Saint Laurent (two of the very best films of the century), but The Beast is still a remarkable work in its own right, particularly in how it presents itself as something much more profound than it seems to be on the surface. Many films have attempted to explore similar themes, often without much success – diving into the concept of human memory and identity is not an easy task, especially when filtered through the lens of cerebral science fiction. However, Bonello is up for the challenge, and spends every moment of The Beast examining the deepest recesses of these themes, cobbling them together to create a vibrant, enthralling work that defies genre categorisation, and goes in pursuit of something much more enticing, which enthralls and disturbs in equal measure. Ultimately, The Beast is a film that will either lead to an epiphany or a complete nervous breakdown – and it can be argued that both should occur for the film to be entirely effective, which perfectly encapsulates the multitudes of magnificent ideas that make up this fascinating work of art that goes against all logic and presents itself as entirely daring and profoundly compelling in both style and substance, a rare but worthy achievement for all involved.