You know when you’re about to reverse out of a parking, after checking that it’s clear to go, and someone stops right behind you, rendering you stuck seemingly forever? At that moment, there’s no one you hate more, making you want to scream and punch the air with road rage.
That’s how it feels to watch the new Netflix show Beef. Comedian and actress Ali Wong does what she does best — good, dark, existential humour for the soul. Viewers will be familiar with Wong’s standup specials (which are great by the way), and suave Steven Yeun in The Walking Dead, but when the two come together, it’s a match made in heaven. By match, we mean mortal enemies with “beef”.
In Beef, two worlds collide in a twisted twist of fate. Danny Cho (Yeun) is a poor construction worker who dreams of bringing his parents from South Korea to the US where he lives. Amy Lau (Wong), is the owner of a fancy plant store that’s about to be acquired by a large hardware shop. Despite her comfortable life, she is stressed.
They encounter each other in a relatable parking-lot incident. The two do what we’ve all thought of doing at one time or another — they memorise each other’s number plates and launch a war of terror on each other.
Viewers are given insights into Danny and Amy’s opposite lifestyles, which slowly blend. It is a refreshingly modern “the grass isn’t greener on the other side” story.
The two become rivals, constantly hitting each other where it hurts most.
Danny urinates on the fancy floor of Amy’s shop while masquerading as a helpful contractor and Amy spray-paints “I’m poor” on his truck. These back-and-forth jabs at each other’s insecurities and sources of stress are balanced with the occasional civilised gesture.
We found this series instantly bingeable but it doesn’t warrant a second season. How much more back-and-forth can one plot have before it starts turning into a show about pranks and stunts?
The point of Beef is to build empathy for the two protagonists who have many people depending on them and are crumbling under the stress. It lifts the lid to expose the realities of Asian-American stories previously untold to wider audiences.
Another feather in its cap is that it comes from A24, the studio that produced award-winning movies Everything, Everywhere, All at Once and The Whale. A24 shows us and the industry you can really trust young creatives to tell the stories that feel instinctive to them — and their audiences will follow. — Kimberley Schoeman
From the moment the latest Netflix series Beef dropped early last month, I had a strong case of fomo. Ordinarily, I don’t immediately watch the most popular series of the moment because I don’t want to be swayed by others’ opinions. This time I couldn’t help it, I caved in, with high expectations. And, man, was I underwhelmed.
Let me preface this by saying I’m clearly not the target audience. And I admit the storyline is strong and thought provoking.
Steven Yeun and comedian Ali Wong give outstanding performances as lead characters Danny and Amy — meaningful, gripping while, paradoxically, brilliantly annoying. Trust me, just about every character in this series is annoying.
Beef has plenty of dark humour, which is not my cup of tea because I don’t find inappropriate behaviour masked as comedy funny.
I appreciate the way director Lee Sung Jin successfully intertwines Danny and Amy’s contrasting lives. They trigger their own insecurities, which are similar in many ways, forcing each other to be accountable although they are enemies.
Although the story is intriguing — many people harbour rage in various forms — I was often confused by the plot changes, especially towards the end of the series. Beef only starts developing in the sixth of the 10 episodes. By then I was distracted and uninterested. I’m not a fan of plots that drag on. Get to the point.
One of the themes is the culture of toxic positivity in today’s society. This is to have aspirations from being a billionaire to #couplegoals and #friendshipgoals but not finding happiness in a perfectly curated life.
As a black woman, toxic positivity is all I know — it’s the story of my ancestors and all the women who surround me still. We are forced to be the carriers of society’s burdens and the world’s problems. Our life choices are political and often we’re taught to normalise unhealthy behavioural patterns.
While watching Amy journey in the creative world as privileged American-Asian, I could empathise but not relate. Frankly, it seemed far-fetched to me because the likelihood of being accepted and respected in that world as a black African woman is slim to none.
Danny’s turbulent relationship with his brother Paul (Young Mazino) wasn’t as emotionally riveting as I’d hoped. It’s the common story of black households where the eldest is responsible for younger siblings.
However, it’s a great series if you find humour in darkness or get a kick out of testing your concentration levels while watching psychological thrillers. — Bongeka Gumede
