Before Beau Wasserman (Joaquin Phoenix) even enters the world, his life is defined by terror. Beau Is Afraid, the third feature from Hereditary and Midsommar director Ari Aster, begins in complete darkness, yet we hear guttural screams that we can’t define. As we try to find our bearings at the very beginning (a struggle that will last for the next three hours), we learn that we are seeing Beau’s birth from his perspective, and that while the world that he’s being born into is loud, terrifying, and uncertain, Beau is quiet. In fact, it’s this silence that makes him equally unsettling to his mother and doctors around him. It isn’t until the doctor slaps newborn baby Beau, causing him to cry, that Beau finally makes a peep. It’s almost as if Beau not immediately meeting the horrors of the world at their level also makes him a threat to those already in this world.
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Or, honestly, who the hell knows?

Beau Is Afraid is constantly battling between two extremes: a deeply personal and metaphorical look from Aster at the bond between mother and son, presented almost as a preposterous Hero’s Journey AND an extremely dark comedy where Aster can use the freedom he’s given as one of horror’s most exciting voices to create one of the truly wildest experiments ever put on screen, one with such twists and turns that almost feel like they could be made up in the moment. Thankfully, Aster knows how to blend both of these extremes in an effective and captivating way that makes this an impossible film to predict what comes next. On one hand, this feels like Aster’s self-flagellation about his own relationship with his mother, but on the other, it also feels like Aster just going absolutely nuts and having a ball with this examination. Either way, it’s absolutely thrilling to watch Aster work this out.

Image via A24

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Part of Beau Is Afraid’s beauty is not knowing what’s coming around each corner, as every step Beau takes feels like him exploring an entirely new world—each of which is unknown, dubious, and often chilling. But at its core, Beau Is Afraid is about Beau attempting to get to his mother, Mona (Patti LuPone), despite all the obstacles in his way. Even leaving his apartment is a life-risking endeavor, as we see a world that truly feels like hell. It seems as though every time Beau leaves, he has to run at full speed to avoid the gunshots and violent bystanders ready to attack anyone that comes near them. The news is even reporting on a guy known as Birthday Boy Stab Man, a naked assailant that has killed dozens, yet no one seems too worried about it. Beau’s apartment is covered in graffiti, the elevator sparks and struggles every time he uses it, and each apartment is covered with a warning about brown recluse spiders. Even in his bare apartment, Beau isn’t safe from danger. There is nowhere for Beau to feel comfortable and safe. There is no escape from the endless nightmare that is Beau’s life.

But this is only the beginning of Beau’s journey, as Beau’s attempt to get to his mother is even more insane than this already remarkably unhinged opening. It’s nearly impossible to describe what Aster does in Beau Is Afraid. It’s like Charlie Kaufman stayed up for a week straight reading Sophocles and watching Darren Aronofsky’s mother! It’s like a fairy tale akin to The Wizard of Oz or Alice in Wonderland, but far more fucked, to the point that this would leave L. Frank Baum and Lewis Carroll crying in the fetal position.

It’s also hard to watch Beau Is Afraid without thinking of other highly-ambitious films from other directors—often also experienced in horror—attempting to tell a more grandiose, deranged stories, for which the viewer’s mileage may vary. There are hints of Synecdoche, New York and mother!, but also the apocalyptic feel of our world at an extreme in Richard Kelly’s Southland Tales, or the interconnected nature of the unseen in David Robert Mitchell’s Under the Silver Lake, and a presentation that often feels like the rug-pulling ending of Denis Villeneuve’s Enemy, except stretched out for three exhausting (in a good way) hours. For some, just comparing Beau Is Afraid to these other divisive films will certainly steer them away from Aster’s latest—and that’s totally understandable and valid!—but for those willing to go on a journey unlike any other, Beau Is Afraid is here to fuck with your brain for as long as you’ll let it.

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Understandably, Beau Is Afraid certainly feels like both Aster and Phoenix pushing themselves in ways we’ve never seen before. Phoenix plays Beau as extremely timid and petrified at all times. It’s as though he was birthed into a world that was already too loud, and he decided to keep his mouth shut and stand by while the world happens around him. It’s almost odd to see Phoenix in a role that doesn’t make him a commanding presence, but rather, almost makes him wallpaper to the craziness around him. And yet, we feel for Beau in his attempt to get back to his mother, and the constant beating the world delivers to him. In almost every scene, it’s as if Aster is attempting to find the most ludicrous ways to beat down Beau, and the result is both heartbreaking and often hilarious in its absurdity.

And Aster…man, what’s going on with you, Ari? Only five years after Hereditary, it’s remarkable how expansive and truly demented Aster allows himself to get with just his third film. Beau Is Afraid often feels like Aster is pushing the lack of limitations he’s clearly been granted, but manages to maintain this as an entertaining and confounding film. As a director, Aster’s journey is packed with stunning imagery and unforgettable moments that refuse to be shaken, such as a fantasy sequence that mixes animation and impressive staging to tell the story of a man’s life, or simple arresting scenes that we know Aster can nail and haunt his viewers with, like a mother simply demanding her young son enter a dark attic on his own. Aster manages to even make a smiling Stephen McKinley Henderson intimidating.

Image via A24

But it’s the writing of Beau Is Afraid that truly stands out. Aster manages to make a film that is deeply, deeply weird, but also manages to feel like a personal exploration of relationship with his own mother, while remaining open-ended enough for audiences to find their own meaning and emotional resonance therein. Yet Aster also ensures that Aster is a surrealist comedy of the highest order, a film that is remarkably funny, both intentionally so, but also in a way that makes the audience laugh from sheer confusion and the ridiculousness of Beau’s journey. But the simple fact that Aster can make this vision come to life in this way is truly awe-inspiring, and regardless of if you find this to be a farcical masterpiece or an ostentatious and extravagant example of artistic experimentation gone too far, it’s hard not to admire the sheer scale and design of the world Aster is creating.

Beau Is Afraid is the cinematic definition of “your mileage may vary,” a massive swing that is likely to be entrancing for some, maddening for far more. Beau Is Afraid is clearly the work of a director who, after two tremendous successes, has been given the freedom to make whatever he wants, and has taken the opportunity to go absolutely mad with this control, but also make something wholly original that could’ve only been made by Ari Aster. This isn’t the type of horror that he gave in Hereditary or Midsommar, but rather, something deeper and more ingrained in his psyche, and probably a horror more likely to scare Aster himself. Beau Is Afraid is bold, enthralling, and unlike anything you’ve ever seen before. Whether that’s a good or bad thing, well, Aster leaves how we enter this shrieking void up to the viewer.

Rating: A-

Beau Is Afraid is now playing in select cities, and opens wider on April 21.