The Beach - Why I Still Love It

IT’S easy to recall why The Beach was such a hot ticket when it first came out in 2000 given that it was based on a wildly popular book by Alex Garland, marked one of Leonardo DiCaprio’s first leading roles after Titanic and boasted Trainspotting’s Danny Boyle as director.

An ode to travelling and the discovery of untapped beauty, it felt like a wild ride - albeit one that takes a dark turn. But with a fantastically propulsive score underpinning it, an eye-catchingly attractive cast and a truly stunning central location, it felt deceptively feel-good. It was easy to overlook the film’s bite.

The passage of time has, however, made each subsequent viewing seem somewhat more disturbing and prescient.

Garland’s book was always designed as both a love letter to travelling and a lament on mass tourism and how parasitic it was threatening to become; the pursuit of the natural and unspoilt, ironically, becoming its own march towards the inevitability of the subsequent destruction this causes.

Indeed, Boyle’s own film actually fell victim to the same message in many ways, with Thai government agencies, 20th Century Fox and a Thai film co-ordinator being faced with a civil lawsuit in late 1999 seeking 100m baht in compensation for environmental damage.

Fox insisted it left the location - aka Maya Bay - exactly as it had found it and that it had removed tonnes of rubbish following production. But in September 2022, more than two decades after the film was shot, the kingdom’s supreme court ordered officials to press ahead with environmental rehabilitation work.

For further context, Maya Bay also had to be closed in October 2018 to allow it to recover from the impact of a daily influx of 6,000 visitors… an unwanted legacy of the film, but evidence of just how accurate some of DiCaprio’s character’s in-film observations were.

Unsure? Then try this for size [from Richard]: “I'd really been looking forward to air conditioning and some cold beer. But, when we got to Ko Pha Ngan, I just wanted to leave again. In one moment, I understand more clearly than ever why we were so special, why we kept our secret. Because if we didn't, sooner or later, we'd turn it into this. Cancers.. parasites.. eating up the whole f*cking world.”

But the darkness doesn’t end there. For while The Beach certainly acts as a damning indictment on the global effects of mass tourism, it’s also pretty scathing about the state of humanity in general - something that feels even more biting when you view the film from a post-Covid perspective.

In one of its most alarming scenes, two of The Beach’s inhabitants are attacked by a shark. One dies instantly; the other, Christo, is severely wounded but refuses to leave the island to receive proper medical support for fear it will raise too many questions and lead to its discovery.

It’s a foolhardy decision, for as Christo’s wound worsens, and his pain and moaning intensifies, he is ostracised and abandoned by his colleagues - segregated and left to die, slowly and painfully.

But as Richard realises and observes: “You see, in a shark attack, or any other major tragedy, I guess the important thing is to get eaten and die, in which case there's a funeral and somebody makes a speech and everybody says what a good guy you were. Or get better, in which case everyone can forget about it. Get better or die. It's the hanging around in between that really pisses people off.”

The excerpt resonates so much now because of how society reacted much in the same way during Covid. At first supportive, but then impatient... as restrictions remained in place to protect the most vulnerable, discontent and anger ensued. People wanted to move on. They didn’t seem to care for those who were still exposed. They effectively left them behind to get on with their lives (something that the legacy of long Covid and the ignorance surrounding it sadly proves).

It’s also a sentiment echoed in the current portrayal by certain politicians and media of the disabled, or of anyone who has mental health problems. Support comes at the expense of growth - that parasitic pursuit of profit (aka capitalism) that doesn’t allow for the stragglers.

The Beach would now seem to confront society’s foibles and such scenes are deeply uncomfortable yet eerily ahead of their time.

And that’s without going into the homage it pays to the likes of Lord of the Flies (with its tribalism) or Apocalypse Now (as epitomised by Richard’s mid-film descent into madness).

So why, you may ask, would I still love a film that paints such a bleak picture of humanity - and whose own leading man is symbolic of mankind’s reckless selfishness: he does, after all, steal his friend’s girlfriend, then promptly cheats on her with the island’s de facto leader and is ultimately responsible for the destruction of the island's collective dream.

Perhaps it’s because of this fearlessness. The Beach keeps offering something new and arguably insightful with each new viewing.

But also, during its head rush opening half, it encapsulates an energy that comes with the excitement and fear of discovery, of venturing out into the unknown on your own, of forging your own destiny, of overcoming insecurity.

When we first see DiCaprio’s Richard, he’s a somewhat awkward loner. He’s as scared as he is excited. His desire to escape the tourist rat run feeds into our own fantasy for ideal travelling.

There’s also a wisdom to his narrative, at times, as evidenced in monologues such as this: “This is where the hungry come to feed. For mine is a generation that circles the globe and searches for something we haven't tried before. So never refuse an invitation, never resist the unfamiliar, never fail to be polite and never outstay the welcome. Just keep your mind open and suck in the experience. And if it hurts, you know what? It's probably worth it.”

But there’s also a clumsy naivety that makes him endearingly human, not least in his disastrous first attempts to win over Virginie Ledoyen’s Francoise, or his musings on the nature of his infatuation: “When you develop an infatuation for someone you always find a reason to believe that this is exactly the person for you. It doesn't need to be a good reason. Taking photographs of the night sky, for example. Now, in the long run, that's just the kind of dumb, irritating habit that would cause you to split up. But in the haze of infatuation, it's just what you've been searching for all these years.”

Boyle, too, knows how to seduce his audience. His cast is young and good looking. DiCaprio was in his youthful prime; while Ledoyen oozed sex appeal, bringing French sass and sexiness to her Francoise. She looked great in a bikini.

The music swept you along too - from Moby’s smooth Porcelain (with its ambient beats and beautiful piano) to the William Orbit produced All Saints classic Pure Shores and its similarly smooth blend of easy pop. There’s also Underworld’s bouncy 8 Ball, Unkle’s appropriately moody Lonely Soul (featuring Richard Ashcroft) and Woozy by Faithless, to name but three more.

All seemed matched perfectly to the material, infusing scenes with an urgency and vitality that was difficult to resist.

Likewise, the euphoric nature of some of the early set pieces, from the swim to the island and the deliberations preceding it, to the cliff jump to get to the beach, or the sight of Richard and Francoise consummating their feelings amid the waves and illuminous blue algae.

Boyle knows how to take a key moment and make it seem vital.

And while The Beach is far from perfect, it still manages to exhilarate (early on) before hitting you with its hard truths.

It dangles the idea of paradise before allowing reality to crash in. But for that first half of proceedings, when paradise seems within reach and everyone is having a good time, the sense of excitement and enjoyment is infectious.

If the movie’s ultimate legacy is the current state of the world that it predicts and pre-empts, then that’s no bad thing either - there are lessons to be learned for those willing to listen.

But as Richard concludes: “I still believe in paradise. But now at least I know it's not some place you can look for. Because it's not where you go. It's how you feel for a moment in your life when you're a part of something. And if you find that moment... It lasts forever.”

In The Beach’s finest moments, you’ll enjoy revisiting them over and over again.