Beasts of the Southern Wild is the sort of film that defies classification or description, by nature of its inherent simplicity and the complexity of interpretation.  It’s nominally the story of a girl whose community is devastated by a hurricane, but that’s merely the surface.  Beasts of the Southern Wild is one part environmental fable, one part coming of age story (maybe), one part morality tale about the links of the universe, and possibly many more things, all wrapped around one truly remarkable and unique performance.

Six-year-old Hushpuppy lives with her father in “The Bathtub,” a poor, rural community separated from the world (and the nearby city) by a levee.  Hushpuppy loves the Bathtub, where the citizens all have a bond created by shared poverty and hardship that they refuse to let dampen their spirits.  She narrates the film, giving the audience a view of her life that’s an interesting combination of childish innocence and world-wise maturity.  She describes the numerous holidays the Bathtub celebrates, and she narrates her trip to “school” where she learns about the melting icecaps and the monstrous Aurochs who are frozen there just waiting to be released.

Yes that’s right, monsters from the ice, because that’s the kind of movie Beasts is.  At times it’s a dark tale of poverty in America, particularly its toll on children, and at others it’s a fantastical take on the world and the interconnectedness of all living creatures through the eyes of a child.  The film treats devastating floods and life threatening illness with the same seriousness as fables and monsters, much in the same way a child meshes reality with fantasy with equal weight.  This is the film’s greatest strength and its greatest weakness: its unique perspective allows us to view things in unexpected ways but it means the Beasts lacks narrative focus.  We’re never really sure whether the Aurochs are real or a part of Hushpuppy’s imagination.

In the end it doesn’t really matter, because Hushpuppy is such a captivating character.  As played by Quvenzhané Wallis, Hushpuppy is fierce, as much a force of nature as the Aurochs.  She faces the challenges of the world with a strength rare among adults, confident in her ability to create change.  It’s a remarkable performance from someone so young (she is now the youngest ever nominee for the Academy Award for Best Actress), and the film is as much a vehicle for Wallis to be Hushpuppy as it is an actual story.

Beasts of the Southern Wild was made almost entirely by first time filmmakers and non-actors, which gives the entire film a raw feeling that suits the subject matter.  It’s gorgeously shot at times, capturing the awe and wonder through Hushpuppy’s eyes.  It’s a movie filled with possible messages to take to heart: about the shared fate of humanity, about environmental responsibility, about the effects of poverty and isolation, about community and about inner strength.  And while many people might leave the theater saying, “I don’t get it,” there’s no denying the power of Wallis’s performance or the painful beauty of the film.  Beasts is truly unique, and these days that is worth celebrating.

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