The beef in question is not a high-end Wagyu cut. Yet that’s the kind of food Amy (Ali Wong), a wealthy Calabasas lifestyle entrepreneur, could order on a lazy date night with her model-handsome husband (Joseph Lee). It’s also not the thin-sliced Korean barbeque that Danny (Steven Yeun), a struggling construction contractor, barbecues outside his run-down LA apartment building.
This is the type of dispute that Amy and Danny have when a road rage incident in a parking lot turns into a protracted, weirdly life-affirming feud – and Amy’s white whale of an SUV becomes a subject of Moby Dick-like obsession.
Danny and Amy would have no incentive to interact under normal conditions. Yeah, they’re both East Asian thirtysomethings living in Los Angeles, but Amy’s life revolves around glamorous gallery openings, a self-designed show home, and closing multimillion-dollar transactions. Danny’s universe consists of Burger King chicken sandwiches, minor frauds, and a Korean church band. Amy would almost certainly not pay Danny to clear her drains. No way, not with those Yelp reviews.
Beef, like its protagonists, fails to establish an immediate emotional connection, and for good reason.
The script is tough to categorize since it is neither comedy nor drama, but it is also not another of the low-energy LA dramedies that streaming services have converted from quirky cottage businesses to mass export products. It’s a gloomy, existential thriller about cynical individuals confronted with inner grief. Nevertheless, despite numerous amusing pieces of conversation, this does not easily transfer to light entertainment. Nevertheless, when marinated in author Lee Sung Jin’s distinct perspective and tenderized by surprising story turns, this Beef quickly becomes a delicacy to savor.
If you’re familiar with Wong and Yeun’s work, Beef’s excellence won’t surprise you. He is a Walking Dead alum who has starred in well-regarded films in the United States (Nope, Minari) and South Korea (Burning). She is the stand-up comedian whose bawdy, feminist perspectives on family life – notably her most recent, pre-divorce Netflix special – make her an excellent choice for the role of Amy, a woman whose secret stress relief involves masturbating with a pistol.
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They’d previously collaborated on the bird-themed cartoon Tuca & Bertie (Wong played song thrush Bertie; Yeun portrayed Bertie’s robin partner Speckle; Lee wrote the script), but never on a project that needed such clear emotional engagement.
Beef also proudly wears the imprint of A24, the achingly cool indie film firm, and achieves at least one moment of psychoactive, soul-swapping bliss, reminiscent of A24’s recent Oscar winner Everything Everywhere All at Once. Beef’s existential desire, on the other hand, is fewer hotdog fingers and more Herzogian despair.
The Ecstasy of Being Alive and The Birds Don’t Sing, They Screech in Pain are among the episode titles, and each title card features unique artwork by artist and former Vice TV contributor David Choe (who also co-stars as Danny’s criminally inclined cousin Isaac). Without a doubt, the Beef-themed additions to A24’s popular merch collection will be available soon.
Beef, like most of A24’s production, makes progress in onscreen representation, with another drama about folks who don’t get enough screen time. I don’t mean Asian Americans – though they are, too – but rather incredibly furious individuals.
In these very therapeutic times, the assumption is that we do the work, find the balance, and process any outsized emotion in a healthy, balanced manner. It must be especially true if you come from a Zen culture and live in the wellness heartlands of southern California. “I’m sick of smiling, guy,” Danny laments at one point. But he also knows that any temporary mask slip will be recorded by someone’s Ring video doorbell, put on Nextdoor, and shared on social media in perpetuity.
Despite their disagreements, Amy and Danny are joined by an irrepressible desire to oppose this self-imposed 24-hour surveillance. Wait till you see what they do later if you believe their proclivity for petty grievances and poor decision-making is clearly established in early episodes. Amid this amusing turmoil, there’s also the thrillingly subversive idea that speeding down the fury superhighway can be the quickest way to feel alive again – whatever your therapist says.
Beef may be found on Netflix.
