(Life Through the Lens - Photo Illustration/MetroCreativeConnection)

“I really thought I was gonna die my whole life.”

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Being a child is laced with silent guilt. There is a burden inherent in your reality: you were given the precious gift of existence, and it is your job to repay your generous benefactors.

Children spend their whole lives trying to live up to those expectations.

As a former child, those expectations are sometimes debilitating.

As a current parent, I can feel the pull toward possession: these children are mine to own, mine to direct, mine to demand of, and mine to return if defective. It feels very natural to control and require.

I am learning an alternative, though. My children did not ask to be born. They were placed here by MY choices. They owe me nothing. They need not be the source of my happiness or my disappointment. They need not carry the weight of my expectations or my shame. My failures and my successes need not follow them through life.

Each of my children is uniquely individual, each carrying their own baggage and hopes. Life is hard — life is complicated … what they really need is a companion not a master. I want to be a source of support to my children not an ominous and omnipresent source of stress. I want to encourage the freshness of life for the first time instead of donating my stale life as it once was.

My children are not extensions of myself. They are not my chance to do it right this time. Their destiny is not their daddy’s. Their fate is not their father’s.

Simply stated: Beau Wassermann (Joaquin Phoenix) has issues. Beau is crippled by his anxiety. Everywhere he looks is death and destruction, spiders and stabbers. Paranoia is his native and only tongue. Fear keeps him medicated. Dread keeps him homebound. Guilt keeps him isolated.

As we meet Beau, he is preparing to fly to his mother Mona’s. Although his psychiatrist enables him, Beau has reservations. He timidly packs; he hesitantly exits his apartment; oops … he forgot his dental floss! As Beau quickly reenters to grab this crucial item, his keys are stolen from his door. No amount of medication can calm his anxiety now! How could he leave while his apartment is compromised?!

Every moment is unbearable. Every thought is an endless pit of misery and insignificance. He is chased by his feelings of contempt. He is run-over by his feelings of resentment. He is and has always been a prisoner.

Beau goes deeper and deeper into his feelings. At the core is his mother. At the center of his trauma lies this foundational and formational relationship. She has restricted and relegated — she has degraded and denied. Alive or dead, near or far, she is still holding his life and growth in her tight grasp, slowly squeezing the remaining gasps from his tired lungs. Beau is afraid.

As I sat to watch this movie, Andrew Was Afraid! It is three hours long (menacing music enters) — it is written and directed by horror master Ari Aster … and I don’t even like horror movies (music builds) — it was a school night (music reaches its gloomy crescendo)!

I expected a lot … but this movie is as unexpected as an Acme anvil falling from a cloudless sky. It makes itself known right away: this is like no other movie ever made. It is an experiment into purely subjective filmmaking. Beau’s mental state is given free rein; we are just along for the ride.

The experiment is undeniable — its effect is unshakeable.

Writer/director Ari Aster’s sunny-day-anvil has flattened me into a Looney Tunes pancake. I am floored by his creativity, his tenacity, his uncompromised vision, his depth, and his breadth. Beau Is Afraid is revolutionary in its attempt, even if the execution leaves some of the audience a bit tangled.

I believe Ari Aster to have shown his genius here. The movie is furiously funny, ceaselessly surprising, and unstoppably unique. It is a work of art without comparison. For me, the beauty of the movie is its insane yet understated simplicity: it is difficult to overcome inherited trauma. So difficult perhaps that it infects every aspect of the traumatized person. How they see. How they speak. How they move. How they perceive each-and-every-thing in their lives. It is a heartbreaking truth to behold.

Aster’s magnum opus was aided by each contributor. The music by The Haxan Cloak was mesmerizing and amusing (Mariah Carey’s “Always Be My Baby” will never be heard quite the same). The cinematography by Pawel Pogorzelski is energetic and alive. The editing by Lucian Johnston is purposeful and fluid. The production design by Fiona Crombie is oozing with personality. It all works together in this mess-of-a-masterpiece.

Joaquin Phoenix is perfect as Beau; he is tragic and triumphant! Amy Ryan (as Grace), Nathan Lane (as Roger), and Kylie Rogers (as Toni) are scene-stealers in their mundane mayhem. Zoe Lister-Jones (as Young Mona) is commanding in her calm control. My only disappointment is with Patti LuPone (as Old Mona); she brings off-the-wall energy … but it lands a bit strange.

When the work concluded, the credits ended, and the screen faded to black, I was speechless. It has since sparked many conversations and a burning desire to see it again (and to get an ointment for that burning). Know this before viewing, though: it is extreme, experimental, and exhausting. It won’t be to everyone’s taste.

***

REPORT CARD: Beau Is Afraid.

Grade: A+.

Assessment: As ambitious as anything I’ve ever seen.