How does a TV project get approved (in the West)? Answer: You pitch an idea, and if the pitch is convincing enough, then you’re allowed to make a pilot; and if the pilot works, then the drama series or sitcom gets the green signal.

How many times does it happen that just the pitch gets the go-ahead without any head-scratching? Rarely. Well, it happened with the latest Netflix series Beef created by Lee Sung Jin. Once you finish watching its creatively contrived 10 episodes, you’ll know why.

The series has been categorised as a ‘dark comedy’. The fact is: taxonomy will not do justice to what the makers of Beef have been able to accomplish. It’s a work of art, classifying which would be a bit of a misrepresentation of what it actually projects. Its concept is as vast as the vicissitudes of life emanating from as one-dimensional a subject as… road rage.

At the heart of the story are two diametrically opposed characters: Amy (Ali Wong), a lifestyle entrepreneur married into an artistic family, and a building contractor Danny (Steven Yeun). The former has a husband George (Joseph Lee) and a young daughter June (Remy Holt). She wishes to breathe afresh and have a life of her own by selling her relatively small business to a bigger businesswoman Jordan (Maria Bello).

The latest Netfl ix series Beef has been categorised as a dark comedy. But it’s actually a work of art

The latter is a financially challenged man in his thirties who wants to get a house for his Korean parents. As can be gauged, living in Los Angeles, both come from entirely contrasting segments of society.

It is in the very first episode that the story gathers momentum which doesn’t dissipate throughout the length of the series. Amy and Danny engage in a road rage incident in a parking lot — she is driving an SUV, he is in his truck. Both don’t see each other’s faces. As the row reaches its pinnacle, Danny manages to capture her vehicle’s registration number on his phone. She goes away, he doesn’t forget. That’s it — the plot of Beef.

Life’s seemingly insignificant issues snowball into giant existentialist questions when Danny decides to, in a manner of speaking, visit Amy’s house and does something nasty. Amy’s response is intense but in the process both get entangled in a web of circumstances from which they find it impossible to extricate themselves. This is where existence as a hydra-headed monster makes them realise the cost of trying to bite off more than they can chew.

Keeping this simple storyline in the foreground, the writers and a remarkable set of directors push the viewers, albeit imperceptibly, to go deeper into the rabbit hole of ideas in which the story has stashed many a query… and perhaps some answers.

The trick to discovering or chancing upon them primarily lies in the lines that are seemingly devoid of philosophical overtones. For example, “Sometimes rock bottom is your trampoline”, or the now much-quoted “Anger is just a transitory state of consciousness.” They basically give away Amy and Danny’s inner suffering.

Critics have claimed that, despite belonging to different worlds, the two characters are alike in their struggle to move away from the bubbles they exist in for a better psychological atmosphere. I’m not so sure about it, because their struggle from the common man’s perspective is pretty generic — the magic is in its presentation.

Ironically, things go from bad to worse. In that context, the line that, arguably, best represents the 21st century post-Covid dilemmas is: “It is selfish for broken people to spread their brokenness.” This explanation makes Beef sound like an ontological journey. It is.

It would be unfair not to mention the superb cast of Beef. All of them fit their roles like a dream. But Ali Wong and Steven Yeun deserve Emmy and Golden Globe nods for their work, especially Yeun, whose range as an actor is astounding. There is a scene in a church, when he is seen juggling with his demons and the spiritual side of his personality that he wants to conceal. It’s an acting master-class.

Three directors have worked on the series: Hikari, Jake Schreier and Lee Sung Jin, who helmed the 10th and last episode. All three have imparted their distinct flavour to the series without disturbing its nomenclature. There’s an urgency and eeriness to Hikari’s direction; Schreier keeps the sensational aspect of the plot intact; and Jin’s dialogic and theatrical spin on the whole saga in the shortest episode transports the story into a meditative domain.

Just brilliant!

Published in Dawn, ICON, April 30th, 2023