Patric Chiha's "The Beast in the Jungle" is one of two adaptations of Henry James's short story released in 2023, alongside Bertrand Bonello's version, simply titled "The Beast". Both films feature top French actresses - Léa Seydoux in Bonello's adaptation and Anaïs Demoustier in Chiha's. I recommend both, though they take remarkably different approaches: Bonello's film delves into the risks of artificial intelligence and critiques incel culture in relation to past masculinities, while Chiha's adaptation adheres closely to the original message, whilst delightfully exploring multiple eras of clubbing.
This story resonates personally with me, as a terminally ill friend and old movie buff often quoted its key line in relation to his own life. Increasingly, we find ourselves grappling with loneliness, and James's cautionary tale becomes ever more prescient. A 2018 Ipsos poll revealed that over 54% of Americans sometimes or always feel that no one knows them well. Many remain unmarried and lifelong strangers to love's intimacies.
The drama unfolds in an unnamed Parisian nightclub, where we meet May and John, linked by an unusual promise of companionship - he, the sentinel of the space, and she, the soul-flower. The costumes on display are simply fabulous; Demoustier's May is first seen in a dramatically ruffled white shirt topped with an embroidered bolero jacket, evoking the glamour of classic Hollywood. Other memorable outfits include a flouncy organza piece and a boldly minimal jacket that accentuates her figure. The film not only captures the essence of various club vibes but also reflects poignant political and cultural events from the eras depicted. The heartbreaking moment, "Klaus Nomi is dead," transitions into a stunning visual of smoke dissolving, akin to a personality fading-an effect that lingers in the mind. For those unfamiliar, Klaus was a unique performer with a versatile voice, reminiscent of Bowie-a true visitor from another planet.
The romantic narrative is thought-provoking but may resonate differently with viewers. Why does John so intently listen to his internal voice? What drives his resistance to deeper companionship? Is it a contemporary equivalent of sacrilege to flout love's imperative? I found myself wondering if autism influences John's behavior; his self-oriented neurology may render him casually disrespectful without awareness. Throughout the film, I hoped he would allow May to gently take his hand and lead him onto the dance floor.
In a world increasingly marred by disconnection, the film reminds us to love fully, love wildly, and cherish one another-everything else is for the birds.
