In the exclusive enclave of Oyster Bay, Long Island, author Agatha (Aggie) Wiggs dwells in a state of abject misery. High strung and withdrawn, Aggie tolerates the good intentions of her townsfolk even as she isolates herself from them. Having written a massive bestseller a few years earlier, Aggie now finds herself running low on funds. The accidental death of her young son and dissolution of her marriage has left her with a severe case of writer's block. Wallowing in grief, and with her editor breathing down her neck about deadlines, Aggie is desperate for some sort of divine inspiration that will help her complete the manuscript she promised to her publishers. The book, however, is a bore, as one character will proclaim, and the publishers aren't doling out any more cash advances until they see some progress.
As if heaven-sent, billionaire Nile Jarvis and his second wife, Nina, move into the mansion next door. Nile is no ordinary billionaire (or maybe he is) and he's far from angelic. In fact, Nile has recently been the FBI's chief person of interest in the mysterious disappearance of his first wife, Madison, as well as a number of shady business deals. While nothing has ever been proven, his very presence sets tongues wagging when he enters a public space; everyone knows he murdered Madison, even if her body has never been found. He's only been able to get away with it because of his vast cash reserves, and those of his equally nefarious father. On the other hand, those allegedly in-the-know (including her parents) suggest that Madison was suicidal, and simply went off to do the deed in private.
Since city life doesn't really suit him anymore, Nile and Nina have retreated to the glamburbs to escape the constant prodding and gossip from authorities and their fellow Manhattanites. Alas, the smalltown experience doesn't turn out to be a cake walk, either. Things get especially sticky when Nile decides to build a jogging path through a forest passing through the properties of several neighbors. Not everyone is onboard with this venture, most notably Aggie Wiggs. Unwilling to sign off on the project, Aggie is further exasperated when Nile's two large watchdogs wander onto her property and terrorize her and her small dog.
After a run-in with the billionaire's sinister chief henchman and a friendly-but-uneasy encounter with Nile's wife, Aggie marches over to Nile's manse to give him a piece of her mind. This hermetic curmudgeon already detests this guy without ever meeting him. And yet, by the time she leaves his house she's entertaining the notion of writing a book about him. He's a slick one, alright. The book is his idea, after all. True, he's a fascinating character and has never done a single interview, but Aggie has reservations about his intent. He claims to want Aggie to tell his side of the story but does he just want to manipulate her like he does everyone else? In any case, he realizes that he sees something in Aggie that mirrors something in himself. After speaking to her editor, Aggie convinces herself that the book will almost certainly be a bestseller. And she surely needs the cash. What does she have to lose?
One dark and stormy night, a very drunk FBI agent named Brian Abbott s shows up at Aggie's to warn her off Nile. He's dangerous! Abbot proclaims. Well, no shit, we've all figured that much out, including Aggie. Having spent years attempting to find something--anything--that will tie Nile to Madison's disappearance--and all the other unproven allegations--Abbott is now on the ropes, both professionally and in his personal life. Ignoring his advice, Aggie takes Nile on a tour of the town and spots the young man responsible for the death of her son, the drunk driver who seems to have gotten off scot-free. The very sight of him walking around the village with his buddies sends Aggie into a tearful rage: she wishes he were dead. Or so she implies.
With Abbott now sniffing around, Nile alternately coy and evasive, Nile's kingpin father and uncle keeping a jaundiced eye on things, neighborly Nina suspiciously popping by and offering favors, Aggie is a woman past the verge of a nervous breakdown: she seems unable to find her ass with both hands. Throw in Shelley's displeasure over a perceived betrayal (courtesy of Aggie...again), a corrupt FBI agent (with whom Abbott is canoodling), and the haunting memories of her lost son, Aggie is eternally verklempt. One thing about Claire Danes, the actress who plays Aggie: she cries really well. And often. Still, the show must go on, so, of course, Aggie launches her own ill-advised inquiry. When her son's killer abruptly vanishes, she is horror-stricken. Authorities seem certain he committed suicide--yet another suicide without a body--but the boy's mother thinks Aggie killed him. For her part, Aggie is certain that Nile had something to do with it. Did he actually think he was doing her a favor by taking the kid? Is this some sort of deranged tit-for-tat?
If all this sounds a trifle deja vu, well, it is. But stick around, there is a method to the madness that sometimes works and sometimes doesn't. The question is not so much who did what? but which one of these two (very damaged) lead characters will outsmart the other and live to write about it.
The interplay between Aggie and Nile are notably Silence-of-the-Lambs-ish (interestingly, Jodie Foster is a co-producer). This turns out to be a double-edged sword: it's wonderfully acted but completely unsubtle. If you have a sharp mind and some experience with twisty upscale crime thrillers, you'll be able to anticipate most--if not all--events well before they happen. That isn't to say that The Beast in Me isn't suspenseful. There's a tremendous amount of tension building throughout the show's eight episodes. A couple of particularly violent and unexpected scenes managed to catch me completely off guard. In hindsight, they were anticipatory but still shocking.
The performances maintain a level of anxiety that overrides much of the plot's predictability. Claire Danes brings a wounded, feral quality to Aggie that is as exasperating as it is solicitous. Without makeup, and ever on-edge, Danes is exhausting and wrung-out, never allowing Aggie to become a truly likable protagonist. British actor Matthew Rhys (Brothers and Sisters, The Americans), as Nile, doesn't have the cool demeanor of a Hannibal Lector but he's genuinely unsettling as an unstable man-child who is rich, crass and highly volatile (sound familiar?). With a ferocious glee, Rhys highlights his disturbing metamorphoses from scheming businessman to all-out sociopath. As the morally compromised FBI Agent Abbott, David Lyons is believably unhinged: his dogged determination is admirable but also a little creepy. The excellent Brittany Snow, as Nina, brings a degree of ambiguity to her character that calls into question her apparent benevolence, while Jonathan Banks and Tim Guinee are each scarily convincing as, Nile's father and henchman/uncle. Finally, in a brief performance that could have been merely decorative or perfunctory, Leila George succeeds in bringing the elusive, glamorous Madison to vivid life.
As far as timing goes, given the bonkers behavior of oligarchs and government officials at home and abroad--you know who I'm talking about--The Beast in Me couldn't be more relevant. It doesn't break any new ground but it provides an accurate (if well-rehearsed) reflection of Trumpian-era depravity.
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