Beau is Afraid is the third feature film by filmmaker Ari Aster (Hereditary, Midsommar) . Beau Wassermann (Joaquin Phoenix) is a middle-aged, anxiety-filled single man who, after hearing of the violent death of his rich CEO mother Mona (Patti LuPone), must travel back home to attend her funeral. Along his way, he is stabbed, run over by a car, chased, shot at, forced to do mysterious drugs, and borderline sexually assaulted. Once he finally gets to his mother’s house, it is revealed that she is not, in fact, dead, and has been manipulating Beau’s every move since his childhood via the employees of her company. All of Beau’s friends, enemies, lovers—they all are and have always been employees, paid in full by Mona Wassermann. Once Beau is told this, he is then seemingly put on trial by none other than Mona’s lover (Richard Kind). Regrettable and ethically questionable moments from throughout Beau’s life play on an impossibly large screen on display to every person from Beau’s past in a huge auditorium. He is judged “guilty,” and is then sentenced to death.

The Curse is a miniseries created by Nathan Fielder (Nathan For You, The Rehearsal) and Benny Safdie (Uncut Gems, Good Time) , and stars the two of them as Asher Siegel and Dougie Schecter, as well as Emma Stone as Asher’s wife Whitney. The newlywed Siegels are starting a new eco-focused reality TV show with Dougie as the producer; having moved into the small New Mexico town Española (a real place!), the couple’s show focuses on renovating houses in an environment-centered way. This plot coincides with Asher getting into an altercation with a homeless girl, who puts a curse on him. Though Asher first laughs it off, he comes to realize that this curse may hold more weight than he initially thought, as his life seems to fall apart as the show continues. His personal relationships suffer, and he slowly becomes more alone and confused. Despite Whitney’s efforts at making a cultural difference in Española (or rather, appearing as if she is making a difference), she and Asher also suffer severe trials in their marriage, leading Whitney to realize she is unhappy in her life. No longer caring about how Asher is portrayed, she and producer Dougie decide to spice up the entertainment value of their show by portraying Asher as a bumbling idiot—someone for the audience to root against and laugh at. After Asher manipulates Whitney to stay in their marriage, the curse finally truly takes effect. On the day of their first and only child’s birth, Asher wakes up on the ceiling; gravity has literally reversed for him. Over the next forty minutes, we see in real time Asher struggling to comfort his in-labor wife while maintaining his own life as gravity pulls him upward. He quickly makes the mistake of leaving their house (attributing the anti-gravity to their eco air compression system), and instantly flies into a tree. After holding on to a branch for as long as he can, the fire department (believing he’s insane as they didn’t actually see him fly up) essentially publicly executes him by cutting the branch he was holding onto at the moment Whitney gives birth at the hospital. As Asher flies upwards into infinity, producer Dougie films his suffering with a drone for the next season of their show. Asher suffocates, Whitney becomes a mother, and Dougie has a mental breakdown after realizing what has happened—the perfect ending.

Dream Scenario by Danish director Kristoffer Borgli (DRIB, Sick of Myself) is a dark satire about a middle-aged family man Paul Matthews (Nicolas Cage) quickly becoming an international celebrity after seemingly randomly appearing in many peoples’ dreams. A self-labeled author turned struggling college professor, Paul quickly tries to capitalize on his fame, attempting to use it as a way to get his foot in the door with his book (that he has yet to start writing). After a painfully unproductive meeting with a modern agency, Paul has an affair (or what could be called an affair) with one of the assistants who flirts with him in what could be described as one of the most awkwardly hilarious scenes of the decade. From this point on, the dreams people experience take a horrible turn; nightmares starring Paul Matthews are all that people dream of. Many students drop out of his class, claiming they’ve been murdered, tortured, and raped by Paul in their dreams. After many failed attempts of Paul trying to take control of the situation, he eventually gives in to his “cancellation;” at his daughter’s school play (which he has been banned from), he accidentally hurts one of the chaperones whilst trying to get in, in front of the entire school faculty, parents, and students. After this, Paul and his wife divorce, the dreams suddenly stop, and Paul is out of the public limelight forever.

These three pieces of cinema have several similarities (beyond their release year of 2023), some more apparent than others. They all focus on middle-aged, lonely men, struggling to find their place in the world, who find themselves at the center of a seemingly impossible conspiracy (that may or may not be supernatural) which ultimately leads to their demise. All three also feature Jewish protagonists (with Judaism and spirituality being a continuous theme in The Curse). While this makes inherent sense for The Curse as Asher and Dougie are played by the show’s creators, this seems to be a conscious choice for all three projects; Adam Sandler was initially in line to play Paul Matthews before Cage was attached. However, the most apparent and important similarity of the three is their artistic intent: human suffering to cause spiritual awakening.

The name of the protagonist in any great work of fiction is almost always relevant. In these works, they are clues leading us to the goals of the filmmaker. Beau Wassermann (which literally means beautiful water man) is an innocent soul who is corrupted by the world of his mother until he literally dies by drowning. Asher, also being a Jewish prophet in the Bible and Torah, also ironically means blessed or happiness in Hebrew. Even the face value interpretation of his name (signifying ash or fire) is tragically ironic, in his death being brought upon him by firefighters. While this may seem like simply a subtextual joke (which it is), it also exemplifies the goals of the series. Despite Asher’s misfortunes, Dougie consistently is strangely envious of Asher in regards to the curse itself. It is left intentionally vague how much Dougie actually believes in the supernatural, but it is implied that he wishes he was the one who was cursed; he is envious of the spiritual significance; he would rather experience misfortune for a reason than the seemingly pointless hardships he has endured in his life. Paul Matthews, on the other hand, is a name comprised of two Biblical names—two apostles of Jesus. The film even puts emphasis on his name, making it clear that he took his wife’s last name when they married rather than her taking his. These three protagonists differ from the common main character in film; they are horribly flawed, and experience very little joy throughout each of their stories. These three men, Beau, Asher, and Paul, are all morally questionable people, yet they are the one. There is a reason (both from a creative standpoint from the filmmaker and a spiritual standpoint within the stories themselves) that they are the protagonists: the viewer’s worst traits are embodied on screen to reflect how the viewer may see themself and the world. Hell, Asher and Whitney’s eco-homes are literally made out of mirrors, with Whitney proclaiming they artistically reflect the community; Paul Matthews is killed by an evil doppelganger of himself in a dream; Beau discovers his long-lost twin in his mother’s attic with opposing traits from him; these stories are meant to reflect certain traits of the humanity in all of us, and the important balance that these traits uphold in the self.

Within the worlds of these stories, spirituality plays a varying degree of importance in the story, and in culturally different ways. In Beau, spiritualistic concepts are not (directly) addressed, being relegated to religious propaganda in the background, like the giant graffiti piece directly outside Beau’s apartment window claiming “JESUS SEES YOUR ABOMINATIONS.” In life, even that of a Christian life, religion and purpose are often pushed aside for focusing on immediate worldly troubles; this is the essence of Beau is Afraid. As Beau’s Mom says: “It’s like you were born without the mechanism to choose. You let it dissolve itself in the absence of you. You make everyone else do it for you.” Beau, being preoccupied with the torment being thrown at him from all aspects of his life, has no time to focus on why these things are happening to him. This ultimately leads to his negative judgment at the hands of his creator, Mom.

The Curse leans into spirituality in the same ways many theological people do. Asher (and Whitney after she converts) are practicing Jews, but lifelong Jew Asher doesn’t seem to understand the reasons behind any of the religious practices of Judaism. Even once the curse finally proves its reality in Asher’s literal flight, he doesn’t pray. His lifelong religious beliefs mean nothing once he is confronted with death. It isn’t until he is literally in the process of dying in Earth’s atmosphere that he seems to find some sort of spiritual enlightenment. Asher looks towards the light of the sun he is flying towards and simply says “wow,” out of astonishment and beauty.

I bring up spirituality in part to make the connection between these films and the Gospels; the story of Jesus Christ. All three of these stories contain countless parallels to that of Christ to where it cannot be ignored by the audience. Beau is a virgin, born of a mother and seemingly no father, who, after going through many painful trials, is put to death by his creator while being watched and unfairly judged by everyone in his life. Asher discovers a supernatural aspect of his life which no one believes, which leads to the diminishing of his personal and professional relationships, which ultimately leads to his condemnation and death (albeit it unintentional) by government workers and fellow members of his community, all while he is stuck on a large piece of wood (a tree) for others to watch and judge. Paul, upon discovering his supernatural talent, is also put through social and physical trials, misjudged by society due to the nightmares, and, while not literally, is socially put to death by his community, left to be divorced and alone, and forced to converse with lowlifes and other problematic men; a terrible fate. In addition, his fall quite literally releases what Christians call The Holy Spirit into the world in proving dualism. All of these stories essentially follow the same arc of the Gospels. Not to mention that, again, these characters are all, like Jesus, Jewish men.

I am not attributing depth where there is none. In the middle of The Curse, Asher’s hand is pierced by a metal nail. He later rubs the scar on his palm, saying “Maybe this is all happening for a reason.” The first word spoken on screen by Asher in the opening scene of the show is literally “Jesus,” before instantly focusing on a crucifix on the wall. In Dream Scenario, the film also opens with Christian imagery, with a set of keys with a frog keychain falling from the sky. In the book of Exodus, God rains frogs on the Egyptians for their refusal to free the Israelites. With this Magnoliaesque symbolism, it instantly applies the context of scripture to the film in a way which shapes our understanding of the purpose of said film. Beau’s apartment number (like Neo of The Matrix) is 303, signaling the number of Christ (33) and the trinity; he is also stabbed in the palm of the hand (like Asher) then awakes three days later; Beau enters a cave before his metaphorical “rising,” and Asher drags himself out of his cave-like bungalow before his literal rise, being induced by a doula with the name of Moses. I could continue with the countless biblical Easter eggs sprinkled throughout these stories, but I hope this suffices to solidify the context of the religious implications of these films.

I am not implying, however, that these filmmakers are advocating for their audiences to convert to Christianity. Nathan Fielder is a self-described Jew, Ari Aster has said he’s “not very religious,” and Kristoffer Borgli has not commented much on his religious views, aside from a spiritual short documentary from 2018. The goals of these pieces of art are not simply to get the audience to believe in what Christianity calls God, but rather to let the viewer come to their own spiritual conclusions based on the outcomes of the story. However, the idea of a creator (the filmmaker) creating a world (the story) to sacrifice their child (the protagonist) for the betterment of society cannot be ignored, and doing so would negate the purpose of the stories themselves.

There are also metatextual levels to these three stories that point to the intent of the filmmakers. In Beau is Afraid, one of the first things we see on screen is the logo for Mona Wassermann’s company, seamlessly mixed in with the other production company logos; Mona herself is one of the producers of the film she is in, with full control over every aspect of Beau’s existence. During Beau’s trial, what starts as previously unseen security footage playing on the giant screen eventually changes to scenes from the film itself. The film exists within itself; it exists for itself.

In addition, theater and plays are a prominent aspect in both Beau and Dream Scenario’s stories. In the former, Beau watches a play in the woods while on his journey home, in which he seems to be magically transported into the story of the production. He is so invested in this story that it infects his consciousness. Within his life in the play, he faces many metaphorical trials and tribulations that oddly relate to his own life. He eventually, after living what seems to be decades in this play’s world, finds himself at the same stage where the play is being performed—all while still watching the real play unfold. He watches his life’s story be told on stage in yet another play; a play within a play within a film within a film. He even, after hearing his life’s story being read from the book onstage, stands up in the seated audience and claims “this is me. This is my story,” in a Christ-like self-realization. After nearly twenty minutes of screen time in this play sequence, Beau finally wakes up, confused and saddened at his return to seemingly meaningless reality. In Dream Scenario, there are three instances of a theater play. It is first at the theater that Paul first discovers his supernatural dreams, in a chance encounter with an ex-girlfriend. Once the dreams have turned to nightmares, Paul experiences a violent death at the hands of himself in a nightmare. Being quite literally hunted by a doppelganger Paul wielding a crossbow, he’s shot in the neck and back with arrows before literally appearing on a stage before an applauding audience the moment he is shot; he then wakes up. Theater doesn’t return to the story until Paul attempts to watch his daughter’s school play, from which he has been banned due to his controversial status. He, having been looking forward to seeing his daughter perform, forces his way into the auditorium, accidentally hurting a chaperone in the process. Everyone in the audience is quick to restrain Paul, who at this point seems completely unstable.

The plays and meta references throughout these films can be attributed to their goals in eliciting a spiritual awakening in the audience. Not necessarily to answer questions, but to encourage deep thought in the viewer, leading to their own conclusions. With these protagonists being stand-ins for humanity (warts and all) in these stories, it forces one to identify with them and their struggles with existence. The hints of Beau and Paul’s fictional realities are to provoke the viewer to approach their own life in a similar way: is this a test or simulation, so to speak? Is our current human consciousness the purest form of reality? Does everything happen for a reason?

The Curse is more subtle with its metatextual elements, but its intent remains the same. Like Beau, there is also a show within the show, so to speak. “Fliplanthropy” (later renamed to “Green Queen”) is Asher and Whitney Siegel’s reality TV series where they rebuild homes as eco-friendly living spaces. Despite the show’s seemingly good intent, the people of Española are more concerned with gentrification and affordability than paying the absurd prices the Siegels are asking for when it comes to “passive living.” The meta elements at play are in the filmmaking itself; what is most apparent when watching The Curse is its cinematography style. Most shots are from behind a corner, through a fence, in the reflection of glass; it is as if the camera is filming something it knows we should not be seeing. While some purely attribute this to parodying real-world reality TV shows in their presentation, I argue that while that might be true, the show’s visual style goes beyond that, and is imperative to the show’s themes and artistic intent. There are several times a character will actually notice the camera within The Curse. It’s often disturbing, seeing a background character looking straight at you as you watch the scene. The first time this occurs is after Asher is cursed, during the last shot of the first episode. Other times show minor characters, members of the community, seemingly aware of this invisible camera that logs their every action. Fielder and Safdie use the camera itself as a vehicle for spiritualism within the show, mimicking a handheld camera man from afar, while also conveying an omnipotent presence that seems to directly interact with the characters on screen. The cinematography style changes only once in the series (aside from the segments of Green Queen shown), at the climax of the story. Once Asher is dead with his body floating into the ether of space, the camera returns to Earth; no longer does it seem bound by a handheld handicap; the camera smoothly flows between scenes, giving us one last look (and a unique one given the style shift) at the town of Española, his reality. Asher has transcended, as has the consciousness of the show itself. The show is him, and he is the show—just as transcendental practices lead to the belief that one’s experiences surmount to their existence.

In parallel to Asher’s tie to the existence of The Curse, as is Green Queen’s tie to Asher; as Asher is inseparable from the show he stars in, the metatextual show within said show is equally tied to the series’ existence. In other terms, Green Queen is the fuel burning in the engine that is The Curse, and Asher is both conductor and passenger. Asher’s death concretely puts an end to these three things in one event—it’s perfect; quite literally immaculate. Asher dies, so he obviously does not exist in the show’s reality anymore. He is no longer in Whitney’s life, allowing her to live a happy life as a mother, ending the show of The Curse that these characters live in. No conflict means no story, and no story means no show; no sin means no humanity, and no humanity means no consciousness, at least in how we know it. Furthermore, Asher’s death even implies the end of Green Queen, as producer and showrunner Dougie breaks out in tears after Asher is gone, claiming “I’m sorry for everything I’ve ever done.” Dougie, burdened by hardships of his past, finally seems to go through a real change of character after an entire series (perhaps lifetime) of blaming others for his misfortunes. This is not the Dougie who proudly put his name on manipulative TV shows that ridicule burn victims. It can be assumed that he does not continue a path of reality TV, or at least not in the way we have seen him do throughout the show. Point being that Asher’s death puts an end to all aspects of The Curse’s existence; the network executive behind Green Queen in the show literally says at one point “if there’s no Asher, there’s no show.” This may seem frivolous to focus on, but the idea behind the mystery of reality can be thoroughly explored through this concept in film.

When Asher (as well as the titular curse itself) is lifted in the finale, the people in the community watching this happen are not saddened or disturbed; they don’t know what Asher or we (having experienced this reality through the literal lens of the camera) know. They are confused and certainly amused, but are not concerned much with Asher’s safety, let alone his overall well-being. “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” Just as the Romans did not know their crime in crucifying Jesus, the people of Española do not realize the theological and spiritual significance of Asher’s situation, as well as the metatextual level of what his cosmically-driven death would mean for their reality.

This meta-focused, self-referential style of art has been dubbed transcendental media, referring to how the art itself aims to allow the person experiencing the art to transcend what we call reality. It has become increasingly popular in film, with other recent examples being Poor Things (Yorgos Lanthimos, 2023), Synecdoche, New York (Charlie Kaufman, 2008), Taxidermia (György Pálfi, 2006), The Lighthouse (Robert Eggers, 2019), and most notably Twin Peaks: The Return (David Lynch, 2017), but examples can be found throughout cinematic history from 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968, Stanley Kubrick), to 8½ (1963, Federico Fellini). These films commonly feature a character coming into existence and going through hardships to discover truths about their deeply integrated reality, and often portray the world of the film through the warped lens of the protagonist’s psyche. It is not necessary for transcendental media to have a horror angle, though nowadays it is more common than not. An obvious reason is that horror films often utilize supernatural elements in their plots, which allows for metaphorical application of said elements in the greater story of the film. The second reason is that horror films are simply extremely marketable, so an artist aspiring to create a transcendental film experience may lean into horror elements to get the project made, such as what Ari Aster did with his directorial debut Hereditary (2018), which ended up being A24’s most profitable film at the time, grossing over eighty-seven million dollars at the box office.

On a broader level, the recent resurgence of the horror genre I believe is a response to the current zeitgeist of western culture. We live in a time of strict political division, fear among the masses caused by the media, and an overall feeling of hopelessness or impending doom. In the age of social media, one’s self is not who they are. One’s portrayal of themself is who they are. If the meaning of the self has been dissolved, being replaced by the value we place in how others see us, then art must reflect this to stay meaningful to modern audiences.

No longer is a serial killer enough to create a memorable, scary cinematic experience. Rather, having said killer film the character’s murder to then livestream it to thousands of viewers heightens the fear and anxiety to the fullest possible degree. It transcends the private, intimate death to something that is viewed by many for mere entertainment—this is truly horrifying, all the more due to the current public’s era-defining anxieties.

This type of film is a subgenre I have personally deemed “public horror,” essentially embodying the aspects of transcendental horror in a personally revealing way. This term does not limit itself in a strict, literal sense; it’s not just public executions that funnel films into this subgenre. Recent examples of films that lean into this concept include I’m Thinking of Ending Things (Charlie Kaufman, 2020), Black Swan (Darren Aronofksy, 2010), Midsommar (Ari Aster, 2019), Inland Empire (David Lynch, 2006), Kinds of Kindness (Yorgos Lanthimos, 2024), and The Substance (Coralie Fargeat, 2024), which harken back to philosophically dense films like M (Fritz Lang, 1931), A Matter of Life and Death (Powell & Pressburger, 1946), and Panique (Julien Duvivier, 1946). Much like in the post-war creative drought of the mid 20th century, in the current age of public humiliation and cancellations, these films choose not to stray away from obverse themes that stain people’s everyday lives. These filmmakers dig into the roots of these issues and try to make the audience think deeply or differently about them. Not only does this chiefly provoke thought regarding the zeitgeist in the viewer, but it often correlates with spiritual elements of a final audience and judgment, which allows for the philosophical combination of these elements to occur in one film watching experience.

These various factors of modern life have led to more psychological horror films, “public” or not, with varying degrees of depth. If the horror genre is a place for people to reach catharsis via confronting the fears within reality, then transcendental horror can be described as reaching catharsis by questioning the fundamentals of reality itself. When a corrupt TV personality becomes president, violent wars are being broadcast daily, and a worldwide pandemic breaks out all within the past decade, it leads one to ask “why?” As we enter a new age of civic unrest and uncertainty, this counteractive artistic movement only seems to strengthen; each new tragedy transformed into a spiritual learning experience. And as for “why,” perhaps this movement is the key to finding out.