The Beasts [2022] – ★★★★1/2
True horror lies not in the actual presentation of the said horror, but in the certainty of its imminent arrival, in the feelings of expectation, the wait and the dread…persistent, insidious, mentally-torturous. Spanish director Rodrigo Sorogoyen knows exactly how to portray this most effectively on screen since his slow-burn drama-thriller The Beasts (As bestas) is one highly palpable, mesmerizingly ensnaring exploration of psychological persecution and bullying, grounded in stark realism. When French couple Antoine and Olga (Denis Ménochet and Marina Foïs) arrived to a rural community in Galicia, Spain, they wanted only the best for the area and its people, quietly starting their farm, restoring old houses around them, and connecting with the local market. However, not everyone was happy to see them, and when the new wind energy project suddenly needs more signatories, two local brothers Xan (Luis Zahera) and Lorenzo (Diego Anido) think that a terror campaign against the French expats is the only solution.
There is something about French-produced films about eccentric outsiders who come to rural communities and disrupt lives there (Jean de Florette (1986), Chocolat (2000)) which simply intrigue – the core of the drama is a person pinned against his new environment and neighbours. The Beasts, allegedly inspired by a real story of 2010 (see documentary Santoalla (2016)), also purports to tap into just this wealth of opportunities for drama. However, the end product here is not just some run-of-the-mill domestic drama, but one exquisite savagery.
After such films as The Candidate (2018) and Mother (2019), in The Beasts, director Sorogoyen is again in a familiar territory of intricate drama at the heart of which are complex inter-personal relationships that work as catalysts for emergencies to come. Antoine and Olga seem to have settled in rural Galicia and work as farmers and home restorers, and they also have friends, two friends, in fact, the only friends – another local farmer and his wife. The time then comes when Antoine and Olga are hesitant to sign a document handled recently to local residents for the permission to convert most of the local land to a renewable energy project. That would give some money to the residents, but would also rob them of their land. Thus, immediately, this tale feels very modern (the opposition to a renewable energy development) and as old as time (a friction between old and new neighbours) at the same time. Local man Xan is angry about Antoine’s stubbornness not to do what businesses in the area demand, but his hatred for his neighbour seems to have deeper roots as the attacks on Antoine and Olga grow in a crescendo fashion, from cruel jokes (targeting Antoine’s nationality) to poisoning their water supply. It is when the police turn a blind eye on the happenings that Antoine starts to believe that recording the bullying is the only weapon he has.
And, where this film turns truly harrowing is when we realise the extent of Xan and Lorenzo’s psychological abuse campaign against Antoine and Olga. A seemingly straightforward, unassuming plot of a neighbours’ conflict takes on proportions worthy of a tactic in a historical battle as the camera circles Antoine and follows his movements around the area, from a local pub to a shop, from his dog walk to his car trip. The danger is constantly there, in the very air. Once, Antoine’s car breaks down, and Xan is seemingly willing to help. Will he? The genius of the film is that we do not know what kind of a blow Antoine would receive or when – it is just the certainty of the trouble to come that is clear.
As the tensions in the story mount so the film gets more nuanced. The best scenes are to be found in the film’s middle and end, where the dialogues (between Antoine and Xan, and between Olga and her daughter Marie (Marie Colomb)) display the film’s range of intricacies and insights into the human nature. There are no special effects or other tricks here to distract the viewer – just simple magic flowing from immersive, direct film-making. The dialogues are raw, hidden emotions finally coming to the surface, human interactions filmed to perfection. The conflict is self-interest, greed, envy, frustration and misunderstanding that can no longer lay dormant. And, the fear – it is primal, innate – the music sets the tone. The score (by Olivier Arson) is hypnotising minimalism full of “tribal beats” that underscores either the moments of intimacy between Antoine and Olga, or the pivotal confrontations between the couple and their neighbours (and there is even a visual reference to The Silence of The Lambs (1991)).
Sorogoyen also seems that kind of a director who can elicit the most from his cast. As the duo of expats who hope to make it as farmers in their new locale, both Denis Ménochet and Marina Foïs give performances of much nuance and conviction, the former almost in the role of one “gentle giant” who tries to be friendly to everyone, but still has to be on guard seeing all the xenophobia directed at him from all corners. Our intense sympathy for Antoine comes partly through Ménochet’s ability as an actor to be so reserved and yet say so much through the unspoken displays of humanity and hope as the role of a victim is forced upon him and he finds himself with torn feelings and contradictions. A man should be able to defend himself and his family if needed, but Antoine is already at the disadvantage both culturally and linguistically, not to mention being perceived an outsider and feeling so isolated in his community.
The Beasts shows that enmity can be subtle and insidious, but no less frightening for that, and the film’s distinction resides in its painstaking exploration of a very human drama, a very vivid drama, a drama handled so sensitively and yet with such vigour. The Beasts is first and foremost a film of palpable tensions and unwavering conviction.