"Beatriz at Dinner" is a film with a fire in its belly. It’s a caustic comedy of manners that simmers at a slow-burn pace, culminating in an explosive satire of the American elite.
The film is written by Mike White and directed by Miguel Arteta, the team behind "Chuck & Buck" and "The Good Girl." Like those films, "Beatriz at Dinner" is uncomfortably intimate, making us feel as though we're eavesdropping on moments of private pain. Therein lies the comedy — in the relief that others are struggling alongside us in trying to make sense of this increasingly absurd world.
"Beatriz at Dinner" finds a Mexican health practitioner (Salma Hayek) trying to knock some sense into a brash billionaire (John Lithgow) during a dinner party at her patient's palatial mansion. When they first cross paths, he mistakes her for a maid and barks out a drink order. When they sit down to eat, the first question he asks is whether she came into the country through legal means. This kind of man exists, and worse yet, he's running the country right now.
Although White wrote the screenplay long before Donald Trump took to the campaign trail, Lithgow's character, Doug Strutt, bears a striking resemblance. He's a real estate baron reeking of racism, plowing through poor countries and forcing people out of their homes to make way for his garish hotels. When Beatriz confronts him about the damage he did to her village, he changes the subject, grilling her about how she emigrated from Mexico. Like Trump, he turns to bullying in any given situation.
One of the film's most powerful scenes revolves around Strutt boasting about a rhinoceros he slaughtered on a safari in South Africa. It recalls the story of the dentist who killed one of Zimbabwe's most beloved lions back in 2015. Strutt's description of his hunting experience is chilling. Through his dialogue, White masterfully evokes the aggression and entitlement infecting America at the moment. And he voices his concern through Beatriz, who gracefully fires back at Strutt about how real patience and courage lies in healing things, not hunting them down and destroying them.
Arteta draws dazzling performances, especially from the two leads. Hayek explores the reckless anger beneath Beatriz's grace while Lithgow finds the humanity in Strutt's monstrous behavior, revealing the vulnerability behind his bravado. Hayek anchors the film, persuading us to follow Beatriz into the dark as she pushes Strutt and the other dinner guests out of their comfort zone.
The tension between these characters fills the theater with a timely chill. You could say it mirrors the tension between liberals and conservatives, but it's also much deeper. Like the best films, "Beatriz at Dinner" taps into how we're feeling right now, and it stays with us long after we leave the multiplex. As much as we need escapism at the moment, we also need movies like this — films that hold a mirror up to our world while transporting us to another, films that expose warts and all. Without darkness, we'd never see the stars.