Behemoth!

With Behemoth!, Gilroy understands that there are moments in our lives where words seem insufficient to articulate what we feel or experience; sometimes the pains and regret we replay can be the only song we hear. Grace notes, though, are never far away, and maybe new music can be born from the chaos of our lives

[Tony Gilroy] conducts an interesting, personal project that ebbs and flows like an elegant piece of music that lands the final note just in time, and in the correct tempo.

There’s finicky skill in how Gilroy has composed this grand opus, but offhand joy in how he’s conducted it, too.

The pace is electric for how commonplace the developments in Alex’s life are (new flings, work troubles, people dying), largely because Gilroy plays the metatextual scoring instrument as assuredly as the virtuoso at the heart of his story plays the cello.

In addition to presenting its musical demimonde with reverent accuracy, Behemoth! has another quality going for it: The film is playful. It’s not a symphony — it’s a scherzo.

Swaying between black comedy and bleak drama, it’s sometimes too much of a leap for audiences to truly make. But at least for the army of Pedro Pascal fans out there, there’s plenty to feast on, in what might be his sexiest role to date.

Pascal is a frustratingly insubstantial anchor to the film. For all his virtuosic musical skills, Alex feels like a distant spectator to his own life, and “the kind of guy that stuff just happens to” doesn’t make for a particularly engaging watch.