I Like This Movie

"Beau Is Afraid," More Matthew Perry moments, sad poems, rich pageants, et cetera.

There's that wonderful Tweet that states rather viciously that "A24 is kinda like Marvel for people with mood disorders." I've talked many times on TSB about my love of Ari Aster's Midsommar, especially when I'm in the teeth of a depressive episode brought on by—you guessed it—a fully diagnosed annoying (yet exciting!) mood disorder.

I think it's a beautiful movie. Something about the hypnotic color and pace and the true sense of dread or the never-fun-ness of it, the splattered old people, the romantic betrayal, the burning bear suit. All of it awakens me. 

And after multiple viewings of Midsommar, it's fair to say that I was not only a fan of the movie but an Ari Aster fan. His next one, Beau Is Afraid was released last April, and I intended to watch it in a crowded movie theater and fully immerse in it with other strange people. But I am constantly missing movies while they're in the theater, especially now that movies are in theaters for what feels like two days, and then, poof, there they are on your TV.

After I read some unfavorable reviews, and because its runtime was three hours, I chose not to go see Beau Is Afraid in theaters as God intended. I also couldn't get a complete sense of what the movie was about, but I was still intrigued, mainly because many reviewers were adamant that it wasn't even a horror movie and some of them were really mad about it.

Julieanne was away for a few days at the beginning of the week, and the kids spent the night at the babysitter's. I had a day and two nights to myself. On one of those nights, I rented Beau Is Afraid. I rewatched some of the more upsetting parts the following day and then purchased it forever via Amazon Prime in late afternoon. If I were living in a college dorm at this point in my life, I'd have a Beau Is Afraid poster somewhere prominent, possibly the front door. Confrontational? No, sir. It's a welcome mat followed by an unreserved embrace, especially for visitors who are on MAOIs. 

I can usually sniff out a mood disorder in others, too. It's like a shared language that only sometimes exists, halfway between ASL and a theremin. If the sonar is mutually detected, you have made a friend for all eternity, a lifelong bond similar to that of a summer camp friend, but one from a camp where a fire tragedy happened. It's a person with whom you can share some deep honesty about what's actually on your mind without fear of rejection. "What did I do today? Oh, I spent a good portion of it imagining what my life would be like if I were born without hands and a nose."