Diary entries forBeau Is Afraid
Beau Is Afraid
Well it’s definitely a film, a very long and at times very boring film, but a film nonetheless. The first hour or so is very good, interesting and visually fascinating. However, the second half of this feels like a drawn out mess. Some parts feel like pure shock value and it doesn’t stick the landing at all. Almost fell asleep several times and no matter how clever you think this is, you can’t deny it goes on too long for what it achieves. His worst film and I hope the next will be more like this first two than this.
Beau Is Afraid
"I'm sure you'll do the right thing, sweetheart." "What is the right thing?...What is the right thing for you?" Next week is the six-month anniversary of my dad's death. Today is the eight-month anniversary of the last time I got to see and talk to him on an equal footing, the last time he was alright and around. I didn't feel like a good son to either him or my mom before then, and I still don't feel like I've been one since I still have financial debt from attending a college I wasn't happy in for a major I lost faith in halfway through and never pursued a job in since. I still live in a state I've always hated that's always hated me to varying levels of intensity in each stage of my life. I still do meaningless work for a corporation that would still be there tomorrow regardless of my life; honestly even the concept of work in general has only upset me every day since his accident, which happened steps away from his own work and which we still believe was caused at least partially by his stress from overwork, because he had the audacity to care about his own meaningless work for a different corporation that is still there tomorrow regardless of his life. I still have risks I haven't taken that would benefit me in every way except the one way I actually think about and obsess about going wrong I have a lot of people in my life I love who I haven't talked to since the day of his accident, and more who I haven't talked to in meaningful capacity beyond a few words since. I'm divided into three thirds about why that is; Maybe I worry they're next, and if I keep them at distance it'll be easier on me this time. Maybe I worry I'm next, and it's easier for them if they just don't have to worry about me anymore. More often than not my brain settles on option C though, which is as simple as I disappoint them like I do everyone else and they deserve better than me, like they always have, like everyone in my life always has, and we've advanced to all just mutually tired of fighting that. I still have depression. Oh yeah, I still have depression. Pre-the accident it was actually in a better place than it was pre-COVID and pre-2016. Right now it's worse than it's ever been (that says a lot, 2016 was rough on me) For most of these months I've had nightmares, dreaming and awake, about my actions and how they each, individually or collectively, led to this point, to these physical and financial and emotional results. The one constant I vividly remember is in the not-knowing. If I'd been better about any of these things, would it have mattered? I thought I was or was at least trying to be a good person despite all of that, and yet that still happened, so was I just not good enough? If I'd been an even better person, and fixed all of those things, would anything have changed? What if it hadn't? What if because it's me, it was all always turning out this way? What if I'm just cursed? I still can't stop thinking, and overthinking, and undersleeping because of the overthinking And the guilt. Oh god, I still can't stop the guilt. The stuff I saw and asked about. The stuff I saw and didn't ask about. The stuff I saw and didn't ask enough about, because he says everything's fine so why wouldn't it be, or because she says everything's fine (either because she thinks that or because he does and that's enough for her too so why shouldn't it be for me?) and she's known him longer than I have, so if he doesn't know, obviously she does. Telling him to take it easier on his work, did I do that enough? He didn't listen, so I must not have. Of course he didn't listen to me, I don't listen to me, I'm still not taking it easy on my own work, which is far less important, so why would he have listened to me? And now she's going to unretire and go back to work she didn't take easy last time either, that's why she retired in the first place, just so she can find a way to cope and break through the silence, so this will all happen twice because I couldn't do better once, and then I'm going to have neither of them ever again. I drive away everyone, either temporarily or permanently. If I had been better, been a better son, been a better brother, been a better friend, been born straight, and been religious, this wouldn't have happened, let alone continue to happen. Just 24/7 thoughts in some passage of my mind still Ari Aster's work has a common theme of a fucked up family, either through a circumstance (Hereditary) or an incident (Midsommar) or by their own nature (The Strange Thing About the Johnsons). All I knew about Beau Is Afraid going in was a) that would likely continue, b) Midsommar has a scene that to this day is the most realistic portrayal of my first panic attack I've ever seen on-screen, it's a big reason why it's my second-favorite film ever, and the way this sounded felt like a 3-hour version of how seeing that scene for the first time felt, and c) I needed to be alone when seeing this. This was my second night-screening ever, my first alone, and I was the only one booked when I entered (two couples eventually joined, I discovered after the end credits. None of them spoke) 3 hours long. 10 minutes of which I was able to feel anything happier than dread, anxious, or stressed. Hyperventilating occurred frequently. I sobbed outright at least five separate times. I saw way too much of myself in a heterosexual Jewish character's story that included animation and a monster. It would have been overkill to have kept the original/superior title of Disappointment Blvd. If a film could make me more uncomfortable while holding a mirror to me for longer, I'm not sure I could survive it To those who exit the theater and are lucky enough to say "I don't get it": I'm happy for you. And to those who agree with Aster calling this a comedy and not horror: you sick fucking fucks
Beau Is Afraid
What the heck did i just watched? This and dream scenario sat on the same table. This movie is like my wild nightmare.
Beau Is Afraid
Yo también me desperté una vez en el cuarto de una kpoper y también me pasaron cosas similares ese día
Beau Is Afraid
Beau is an extremist amalgam of anxieties, traumas, and obsessions that Ari Aster pushes to the limit of the grotesque. It’s not realistic at all, but deeply immersive.
Beau Is Afraid
Is Beaus my anxiety personified?
Beau Is Afraid
I wasn't sure what to expect but I was pleasantly surprised. This movie was good. I felt overwhelmed at times, similar to Mother! (2017). Was hoping for a movie to give me that feeling again and I got it with Beau Is Afraid. Pacing at certain times did feel a bit slow. Loved the randomness, the funny and sad parts. Joaquin's performance as usual was great. I think that Armen did a really good job as young Beau. I think that Ari Aster did a really good job on this film.
Beau Is Afraid
Wft que acabo de ver
Beau Is Afraid
After an electric opening 40 or so minutes, Beau Is Afraid quite literally put me to sleep. A film that had a ton of potential in the beginning is squashed by a bloated runtime and ideas that are interesting in theory, but when applied here, fall flat. The saving grace of the last 2/3 of this film is Patti LuPone, who absolutely steals the show. I wanted to like this film so badly, and it pains me to have disliked it as much as I did. This might be a film that I need to research more to fully grasp what was going on (because there is a LOT going on here) to get a better idea of what Aster was trying to say, but for the moment, there wasn’t a lot that was said.
Beau Is Afraid
Caracas, Caracas, Venezuela...
