Closer in spirit to Alfonso Cuarón's Children of Men than Elem Klimov's Come and See , which deployed a more subjective use of image and sound to convey the brutality of war on a boy's psyche, Beasts of No Nation is one maximalist, long-take-dependent display of violence after another.
The Africa-set drama is a relentlessly violent, vibrant, and electric film that is at once as druggy and entrancing as Coppola’s 1979 cut of Apocalypse Now and as sonically inventive as Elem Klimov’s Come and See.
It's more wise about how something like this should look, in other words, than how it should feel, and the epiphany one has while watching it isn't that this kind of thing happens in the world all the time, across centuries and continents, but that Beasts of No Nation looks a lot like Come and See before it looks a lot like The Thin Red Line before, finally, it looks a lot like Apocalypse Now.
And while it’s very of-the-moment to apply the descriptor of ‘horror film’ to anything sporting a notably sinister undercurrent (from Mulholland Drive to There Will Be Blood), the debasing effect of war is a real-world horror so elemental and so perpetually now that an unspoken exception must be made for the expressionistic likes of Full Metal Jacket, Come and See and, by association, a lesser but still worthy film like Beasts of No Nation.