Beef is the best new show Netflix has debuted in at least a year
Netflix has plenty of likeable, escapist shows. But something truly ambitious and great? That’s rare. Beef is that rarity.
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No one is complaining there’s nothing to watch on TV. There might be a torpor that comes from choice paralysis, but everyone is acutely aware of just how many options there are when it comes to streaming.
But there is a difference between what is merely diverting, enjoyable or very watchable and what is truly bold storytelling, a show that isn’t just trying to hit certain genre tropes or follow a template for “likeable” TV.
Netflix used to be quite good at commissioning ambitious ideas, in the days when it seemed as if it was competing with prestige TV maker HBO before it became more a volume business.
Those shows didn’t always work, or they weren’t always widely watched, whether it be the Emma Stone-fronted Maniac, a bonkers sci-fi spectacle that took its fans on a subconscious odyssey, or the irreverent Bojack Horseman or the punchy energy of GLOW.
But they were trying something different – they cared about the form as much as the function. Having a hit was nice but it had to be good. Really good. Shows like Mindhunter, Russian Doll and Black Mirror.
Those shows still exist on Netflix but like any product that is now in its second decade, the priorities have changed. So instead of a curated approach to TV with a specific creative vision, you get a lot of middle-of-the-road but appealing-enough shows.
It makes sense that shows such as The Night Agent or Emily in Paris become hugely popular. They have compelling hooks, pretty people and enough twisty drama to keep the momentum going. They’re also squarely within existing, proven genres that are familiar. It’s escapist fare, not audacious storytelling.
Which is why new series Beef is so exciting. It’s the best new series Netflix has debuted in a year, probably more.
Beef is the kind of show that you don’t expect Netflix to make anymore, the kind of character-driven, confident TV that is hard to classify, hard to characterise and not easily digestible.
It’s demanding, it asks the audience to really come along with it and consider its story and its characters through a prism that can be challenging and can provoke questions about their own lives – and mental states.
Wednesday, a very good show, never asked its audience if they were depressed or why modern malaise has made us raging lunatics who can’t respond to conflict in a proportionate manner. Beef does that.
Created by Korean-American writer Lee Sung Jin, Beef stars Ali Wong and Steven Yeun as two Los Angelenos who escalate a bitter feud after a road rage incident.
Amy (Wong) and Danny (Yeun) are strangers when they end up in a biffo in the carpark of a hardware shop. He pulls out in front of her, she honks him and it’s on. What should’ve been a drive-by annoyance becomes all-out war as they each try to destroy the other.
That’s the hook but Beef’s layers go so much deeper. Amy is a successful self-made successful businesswoman who’s about to sell her company for millions of dollars to a much larger chain. She is under immense pressure to close the deal she’s been working on for two years.
On the homefront, after the deal goes through, she wants to be more present for her young daughter, whose caretaking has primarily been left in the hands of her husband Nakai (Joseph Lee), the ceramist son of a famous artist dad.
Amy is one of those women who seemingly have it all, and will tell you that it is possible to live your dream life but is inwardly in so much turmoil, not just from her present pressures but also stemming from the unresolved tensions over her upbringing. So, she snaps.
Danny (Yeun) is the eager-to-please son of Korean immigrants, carrying with him the burden of responsibility and guilt for his parents’ wellbeing, especially after a mistake led to them losing their motel business.
He’s desperate to make up for it, and he’s spent his whole life trying to do the right thing. He’s running his own small construction business and trying to take care of his younger brother Paul (Young Mazino), who wiles away the day playing video games and trading crypto.
But nothing ever works out the way it should, and Danny is five straws past breaking the camel’s back. So, he snaps.
The carnage Amy and Danny wreak on each other – some petty, some dangerous – is a symptom of what’s really going on with them, and the deeper emotional truths they’re both unwilling and unable to confront.
Lee, who has written for excellent shows including Tuca & Bertie, Dave, Silicon Valley and has been tapped to rewrite the script for upcoming Marvel movie Thunderbolts, has crafted this intricate character study which also ramps up the intensifying drama with stunning command.
Beef sometimes feels loose and chaotic, but it achieves that by being disciplined and weaponising aggression and passive aggression through its characters’ actions. You don’t see the seams because it feels so natural, but everything is so deliberate.
And if the core of the series wasn’t already so impressive, it’s also managed to tell this tale about second-generation immigrants that isn’t screaming “this is an immigrant story!”.
It does the thing where these characters don’t exist as leads of their own show because their story is about their challenges as part of the diaspora community. Broadly, their journeys could’ve happened to anyone, but the specificity of their backgrounds – the marks left on them by their parents, for example – grounds them in these rich character histories.
Supporting characters portrayed by David Choe, Ashley Park and Justin H. Min merely reflect that Amy and Danny exist in communities with other Asian-Americans just as there are white Americans. That’s what metropolitan cities in Western countries look like.
It’s an important distinction and it’s encouraging to see more characters created in this vein as an evolution of how mainstream projects are playing in the representation space.
Beef is such a smart show and just because it is demanding and has a touch of existential dread doesn’t mean it isn’t also a breezy watch. It’s sassy and funny and has a killer soundtrack of 1990s and early 2000s indie rock bangers (Incubus, Hoobastank and Tori Amos among them).
Tell me that isn’t the perfect package.
Beef is streaming now on Netflix
Originally published as Beef is the best new show Netflix has debuted in at least a year