The Beast review: Léa Seydoux leads a spellbinding and suffocating voyage

Ever since Betrand Bonello’s “La Bête” (The Beast) premiered at the Venice Film Festival ten months ago, its arrival in the UK has been hotly anticipated. With largely positive festival reviews and a reliable casting of Léa Seydoux and George MacKay, The Beast is set to scratch the itch for anyone who wished they could have been at Cannes, but wasn’t. It will also bewitch, titillate and breed nightmares, so tread carefully.

Set between three time periods, the premise of The Beast lives in 2044, an era which has been taken over by AI. Humans are rendered useless due to their fallibility and pesky emotions, but a listless Léa Seydoux wants to make herself useful. As per the AI overlords’ suggestion, she undergoes a series of procedures to rid herself of all past traumas, so she can be a happy worker drone like everyone else.

During the procedures, Seydoux relives two of her past lives, both of which are haunted by MacKay, who she’s destined to cross paths with in every timeline. In the earliest memory, they are bewitchingly star crossed lovers in 1910s Paris, during the year the city was underwater for months at a time. In 2014, they are suffocatingly unhappy strangers in Los Angeles. MacKay plays an incel, transfixed with Seydoux’s position as yet another woman who could reject him. In 2044, the pair are mere acquaintances.

Visually, the film is worthy of a permanent place in the Louvre. It is gorgeous, especially in the blush-heavy, charming colour palette of 20th century Paris, or the retro-futuristic raves of 2044. The Beast feels as though it should live in one of those dark exhibition rooms at an art gallery where short films play, though a rather saggy two hours and 26 minute runtime would render that impossible. Even in the comfort of your own home it’s deeply uncomfortable at times, picking at the scab of a universal fear: that something, somewhere, is coming to get you.

MacKay and Seydoux are transfixing, and the film is worth watching alone for their performances (including an especially good scene where Seydoux impersonates a porcelain doll). MacKay once again proves himself as one of the most exciting young British actors of today, and he is at his best when his characters are acting in earnest — even while he’s playing someone uncharacteristically threatening. There’s also an interesting but limited appearance from Guslagie Malanda, who’s definitely an actor to keep an eye on.

It is Lynchian and Black Mirror-esque, with direct parallels in certain scenes: red velvet curtain-lined visions, nightclubs set in distinct time periods. The length makes it a little laborious, but worth it for the experience. Like a painting, The Beast is best seen once, pondered and then left as a memory. You won’t be rewatching this one anytime soon, but it will stick with you, even when you don’t want it to.

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