Bertrand Bonello
In cinemas
鈥淪omething or other lay in wait for him,鈥� wrote Henry James in 1903, 鈥渁mid the twists and turns of the months and the years, like a crouching beast in the jungle.鈥� The beast in his tale was (just to spoil it for you) fear itself, for it was fear that stopped our hero from living any kind of worthwhile life.
Swap around the genders of the couple at the heart of James鈥檚 The Beast in the Jungle, allow them to reincarnate and meet as if for the first time on three occasions 鈥� in Paris in 1910, LA in 2014 and Chengdu, China, in 2044 鈥� and you have a rough idea of the mechanics of Bertrand Bonello鈥檚 magnificent and maddening new sci-fi film.
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Through a series of close-ups and red herrings, The Beast manages to be an utterly riveting, often terrifying film about love, the obstacles to love and our deep-seated fear of love even when it is there for the taking. It is also an epic account of how ordinary human timidity, once aggregated by technology, destroys the human race.
L茅a Seydoux and George MacKay play star-crossed lovers Gabrielle Monnier and Louis Lewanski. In 1910, Gabrielle fudges the business of leaving her husband; tragedy strikes soon after. In 2014, an incel version of Louis would sooner stalk Gabrielle with a gun than try to talk to her. The consequences of their non-affair aren鈥檛 pretty. In 2044, Gabrielle and Louis meet on the way to 鈥減urification鈥� 鈥� a psychosurgical procedure that heals past-life trauma and leaves people, if not without emotion, then certainly without the need for grand passion.
Somewhere in these timelines are the off-screen 鈥渆vents鈥� of 2025, which convinced people to hand their governance over to machines. Why would humanity betray itself like this? The blunt answer is: because we are more in love with machines than with each other, and always have been.
In 1910, Gabrielle鈥檚 husband鈥檚 fortune is made from celluloid dolls. In 2014, Gabrielle and Louis collide disastrously with warped images of themselves and each other, in an uncanny valley of predatory social media and manipulated video. In 2044, dolls and puppets have become fully conscious robots. One of these even begins to fall in love with its 鈥渃lient鈥� Gabrielle. Meanwhile, she, Louis and everyone else are undergoing psychosurgery to fit in with artificial intelligence鈥檚 brave new world.
No version of Gabrielle or Louis is comfortable in their own skin. They take it in turns wanting to be something else, even if it means being something less. They see the best that they can be, and it pretty much literally scares the life out of them.
Given this is the point The Beast wants to put across, you have to admire the physical casting here. Both leads exhibit superb, machine-like self-control. Seydoux dies behind her eyes not once but many times in the course of this film; MacKay can go from trembling Adonis to store-front mannequin in about 2.1 seconds. And when full humanity is called for, each actor demonstrates extraordinary sensitivity: handy when you are trying to distinguish between 1910鈥檚 unspoken passion, 2014鈥檚 unspeakable passion and 2044鈥檚 passionless speech.
The Beast may be the most indirect critique of technology ever made. Heaven knows how it will fare at the box office. But any fool can make us afraid of robots. This intelligent, shocking and memorable film dares to focus on us.
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Simon Ings is a novelist and science writer. Follow him on Instagram at @simon_ings
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