'Beef': The Explosive Childish Adults

Whether by design or as a reflection of the times, Hollywood in recent years has been swept up in an Asian wave. It started with the blockbuster success of "Crazy Rich Asians," followed by Youn Yuh Jung clinching the Oscar for Best Supporting Actress in "Minari," and the record-breaking director Daniel Kwan and Daniel Scheinert with "Everything Everywhere All at Once." These triumphs repeatedly underscore the visibility and influence of Asian industry professionals, a significantly rising trend.

The acclaimed independent film distributor A24 has also hopped onto this trend, joining with Netflix to release the absurd yet sharp series "Beef." However, the creative team doesn't intend to limit themselves, even though the focus is on Asian Americans. The narrative transcends discussions about race and immigration, deftly blending dark humor, anger, and universal experiences of being lost. With this, they boldly collide with the audience, unraveling the serpent lurking in everyone's hearts. As for the conclusion, is it a resolute distillation of life or a futile struggle within the confines of a Möbius strip? Are we the architects of our own exit or prisoners of our circumstances? These questions, "Beef," are left unanswered.

Hence, as we approach the tale's end, "Beef" refrains from providing concrete conclusions. Instead, it serves as a reminder that the answers lie in how far and deep we are willing to journey within ourselves.

Let's focus on the theme and start afresh. First and foremost, it's noticed in many works that truths initially emphasized often get overturned by the narrative itself. "Beef" is no exception, much like the statement, "Anger is merely a fleeting state of consciousness."

From a psychological standpoint, anger, a primitive emotion that stimulates action, is often an instinctual response to dissatisfaction, such as hunger, poverty, or violation. Thus, the essence of anger lies in rejection, control, and even subversion, as individuals seek to right the tilted course of life through the outward release of aggressive energy. Therefore, the core demand of anger is not merely emotional catharsis but a pursuit of change.

Compared to the essence of anger, if the situation doesn't improve, one continues to be entangled in infinite loss of control and absurdity, much like the protagonists Danny and Amy. Life seems like a train repeatedly losing speed, hurtling towards a cliff, experiencing successive falls. They drag their hearts imprinted with a mesh pattern, depending on anger to numb the pain, as if administering a dose of stimulant, briefly sensing the pleasure of wielding power in that fleeting illusion. After all, anger is humanity's most instinctual response when faced with helplessness. Even if it can't eradicate the problem, it's enough to pry open some space for respite.

Unfortunately, as depicted in "Beef," living too forcefully and coiling oneself into a hedgehog only turns revenge, lies, and manipulation into accelerants for disaster. Anger becomes like a bouncing ball; the more strongly it's thrown, the stronger the recoil. Therefore, merely roaring is insufficient to silence the inner screams and the anger without a place to rest. As Amy's husband, George, assumed, it's not a temporary deviation. The notions of contentment and letting go, towering above, are only the elegance reserved for the privileged or a haughty creed of those who refuse to eat humble pie.

Following the preceding discussion, could it be that the essence of "Beef" is still the old-fashioned act of forgiving oneself, or perhaps the Zen philosophy pursued by the West? Not entirely. Returning to anger, as the plot unfolds, we gradually understand that whether the anger stems from jealousy, inferiority, or deprivation, the emotions it stirs are remarkably complex. It's not just about dissatisfaction with the present; it conceals various fractured experiences that go unnoticed and unacknowledged by others.

For instance, Danny, besides failing to meet the expectations of his first-generation immigrant parents for their second-generation son, also needs to conform to the stereotypical image of the American masses. Through academics, he rises against the odds to become an exemplary minority. The vast gap between ideal and reality shatters Danny's self-esteem and sense of worth. As a perpetual outsider, he disguises himself as a victor in life, inserting himself into the vacuum of a fabricated existence. Inevitably, he repeatedly realizes the hollowness left by repression.

On the other hand, seemingly ascending to the upper echelons, Amy finds herself in a similar predicament. As a charming woman with an aura of Eastern mystique, she must constantly maintain a specific, wise, and broad-minded image, even when internally burning. This is to ensure that her "personal brand" continues to be favored by the Western elite. The acquisition case in the series subtly mocks the lingering colonial mindset of Western mainstream society, continuing to use money (force) to deprive and occupy the pride of vulnerable cultures. They wear a benevolent facade, advising the other party to embrace ambition and stay diligent.

But let's refocus on Danny and Amy. As previously outlined, both of them must wear masks in life. This mask is exceedingly cunning, like the witch in Amy's heart, gradually occupying every inch of the gap between external reality and inner self. This prompts the two to drift away from themselves with time unknowingly. Hence, when we say they are each other's shadows, it's not just because they are both kidnapped by anger but because they share the same loneliness and loss. Each passing moment is embraced with the mentality of an impostor, feeding emptiness with emptiness, ultimately nurturing a bottomless black hole that devours others, their passions, and any semblance of tenderness.

In addition, through the story of the angry duo, a shocking fact emerges: anger is not only a personal physiological response or a failure in temper control but also arises from the distortion of societal structures. Just as scholars of institutional ethnography repeatedly emphasize, the fractured experiences of minority groups often originate from human society. They overlook the inseparability of personal experiences, attempting to use extreme classification to sort everyone's position. The result is the brutal dissection of souls that should be whole and coherent. Not only do they lose their right to speak, but even the will to break free becomes shattered, like bodies advancing by inertia.

Moreover, Danny's incessant murmurings echo: Western psychotherapy is useless for Eastern minds. This repeats and reflects the earlier discussion of fractured experiences. The so-called mainstream Western values, the imagined world, cannot align with the real situations of Asian-American communities. Lack of cultural insight, as illustrated by "Beef," doesn't lead to healing but squeezes out more islands of division.

In conclusion, as explicitly stated in the series finale, the male and female leads are like childish adults. Despite their bodies having matured, their inner selves remain fragile, even lagging behind physical development. Be it past bullying experiences or the suffocating feeling of poverty, these factors have left the two tangled in the dominance of complex trauma, turning them into, in the words of Alfred Adler, the unfortunate who must spend a lifetime draining their youth and childhood.

Cleverly, the writers ultimately choose to strip the protagonists of everything, driving them to confront their abyss and discover that stepping into desolation and traversing tunnels brings not only the anticipated destruction, freedom, and rebirth. Helping others shed doctrines that fundamentally don't fit, they rediscover long-lost pure experiences. It could be a genuine sense of joy, or it could behope and restlessness for the future. Thus, they regain a complete understanding of what it means to be alive, rather than oscillating between abandonment and rampage, ultimately reaching a period of silence. In the end, much like the Jungian quote used in the tenth episode title, to truly comprehend the essence of life, one must not cling to the outlines of light but must venture into the darkness. Only then can one learn how to penetrate suffering.