Beautiful Beings Review- The Haunting Duality Of Lost Causes And Friends Who Save Us

Icelandic Academy Award submission Beautiful Beings from writer and director Guðmundur Arnar Guðmundsson is a snapshot in time of a group of four teen boys on the cusp of disaster or metamorphosis. The violent but tender film with carefully placed moments of magical realism is impactful and haunting. It is a movie that will stick with you and make you think about how fragile we are in the moments we try our hardest to pretend otherwise.

Kids are capable of such innate cruelty and moving kindness. Yet, at times they can turn on a dime, becoming bullies when just a moment before, they were protectors. What makes a boy a target for some and something to be cared about by others? Balli(Áskell Einar Pálmason), a neglected, dirty adolescent with a tumultuous family life and a vicious attack as his first entry into the movie, is achingly vulnerable. His mother is rarely home, and his stepfather is even worse. Luckily he is seldom there, but when he is, he inflicts the worst kinds of abuse on the family.

When Addi(Birgir Dagur Bjarkason) sees a news story about this poor child recovering in the hospital and forced to wear a mask to protect his healing facial bones, it sparks something in him that is ignited when he sees him at school. He unexpectedly invites him into his group, and as things spiral toward a violent conclusion, Addi begins to have visions of what might be. But will he heed those warnings and save himself and his friends before it is too late?

When Addi shows up at Balli’s house with his friends, it sets them on a path that might be their salvation or their end. Addi is joined by Konni(Viktor Benóný Benediktsson), a brute of a kid with a horrendous home life that makes him look for a fight around every corner. He spends his days avoiding his father, who he is terrified of, and bruising for battle. Addi claims Konni is the leader of their group, but his penchant for trouble and short temper makes him more the muscle to Addi’s oversight. The fourth member of the group Siggi(Snorri Rafn Frímannsson), is a twitchy little hyena of a boy who slithers through life just trying to avoid starving and being beaten. His nerves make him reluctant to accept Balli until he realizes he is no longer the lowest rung on the ladder.

Guðmundsson’s screenplay adeptly features the casual ruthlessness of these boys’ language. They wield slurs and barbs like weapons designed to elevate themselves within the group while masking their exposure. At times it’s hard to hear but all too natural for comfort. As a result, Beautiful Beings sounds and looks like the fluid, languid lives of kids everywhere.

Addi is a literal and figurative golden boy compared to these troubled souls. Handsome, flaxen-haired, and smooth baby-faced, he has the best home life. His father is mostly absent, but his mother is doting and present. She cares about her son even if she doesn’t realize just how much trouble he is in. It is from her that Addi’s intuition and visions come.

There are moments when you can feel that different parenting and better decision-making could change these kids’ outcomes. Tragedy and trauma don’t have to be inevitable for all of them. Addi gets pulled into Konni and Balli’s chaos, but although he ignores his mom’s concern for what happened to Balli the night before on the news, the next day, he finds himself drawn to the boy. The group even goes so far as to bring him food, help him clean up his house, and even sweetly make an attempt at self-care. Kindness in these boys who jockey for position and push boundaries allows them to care for each other as quickly as they land blows. They keep their friends’ secrets, save them from as much pain as possible, and worry about their well-being even if they don’t always know the right way to help.

Beyond the boys themselves are questions. Can these kids be saved? Are they doomed to be their parents? Between every painful, sympathetic twinge, there are beats of violence so extreme it leaves little space for compassion. Konni, in particular, is a lightning bolt for tragedy. You are terrified of him even as badly as you wish you could protect him from his father’s fists. He flings himself through life swinging even when there is no reason to fight.

More than anything, Beautiful Beings is about how toxic generational masculine violence can be. This film shows the cycle can be almost inescapable. Like a boat anchor holding you down or in place, our friends and their baggage can keep us safe or drag us to cold dark places even the bright blue Icelandic sunlight can’t touch.

The stellar cast is shot voyeuristically. Every shot of soft bangs, peach fuzz, and acne lingers as if the camera lens wants to preserve these boys’ lives even as it is tasked with distantly shooting them. Camera work by DP Sturla Brandth Grøvlen(The Innocents) is a master at capturing the harshness of childhood. His lens dances between the boys’ sneers and smiles, never allowing us to forget both exist. All of it shot through a fog of cigarette smoke and dappled sunlight that suspends you in dread.

Pulled tight with worry, you are still shocked when Konni wages a bizarre and largely unprovoked attack on a group of boys at a party. A dreamy, woozy atmosphere more akin to the early moments of a nightmare than a daydream allows the subtle magical realism moments to shine. The understated hallucinations convey a wealth of truth in their simplicity.

It’s not often that a film about boys who so scare me also makes me feel so maternal. Most heartbreaking is that as awful as their language and behavior can be, a chink of innocence remains. A tiny ray of hope that there is tremendous sweetness in these boys that should be protected and nurtured. A seed to cling to even as despair sets in. Maybe they don’t have to be the ruin of each other. It shapes every interaction and scene, filling Beautiful Beings with such poignant emotion that you lay as battered and bruised as the boys at the film’s end.

Ultimately, Beautiful Beings is like the boys themselves. It is vicious and tender, breathtaking and brutal, and utterly unforgettable.