The Beasts (2022)

The Beasts is the kind of thriller that doesn’t rely on twists so much as it tightens the air around you, turning a sunlit rural landscape into a pressure cooker of pride, money, and belonging. Rodrigo Sorogoyen directs with a patient, ruthless control, letting small slights and uneasy silences accumulate until you realize you’ve been holding your breath for minutes at a time. Denis Ménochet and Marina Foïs make the couple’s idealism feel lived-in rather than symbolic, while Luis Zahera brings a volatile, frightening humanity to the local resistance, so the conflict lands with moral weight instead of easy villains. It’s a grim, slow-burning drama-thriller that can feel punishing if you want comfort or catharsis, but if you’re drawn to films that are immersive, intelligent, and genuinely nerve-racking, this one sticks to you.

The Beasts is aiming for a slow-burn rural thriller about how “small” community tensions and economic desperation can curdle into something truly poisonous, and for a long stretch it absolutely nails that creeping dread. Sorogoyen builds pressure with grim realism and terrific performances, especially Denis Ménochet’s stubborn intensity and Marina Foïs’s steelier-than-she-looks resolve. Be aware, though: after a major narrative shift, the film becomes more of a somber endurance drama than a propulsive thriller, and some viewers will feel the momentum sag and the ending land a bit too muted for all that buildup. If you want a tight, twisty thriller with a big cathartic payoff, this may frustrate you; if you can handle bleakness, moral messiness, and a deliberately unglamorous finish, it’s still a powerful watch.