'Beast' Review
- Peter Gray
- Apr 13
- 3 min read
Updated: Apr 14
Release Date: 04/10/26 [Cinemas]
Genre: Action. Drama. Sport.
MPAA: Rated R.
Distributor: Grindstone Entertainment Group.
The Verdict: A Must-See
There’s a familiar rhythm to a film like Beast - the fall, the fight, the fragile hope of redemption - but what gives it its pulse is how earnestly it leans into that emotional core. Directed by Tyler Atkins and co-written with Russell Crowe and David Frigerio, this is less a story about fists than it is about the quiet, bruising work of putting a life back together.
Daniel MacPherson carries the film with a grounded, physically committed performance as Patton James, a former MMA fighter trying to stay afloat as a fisherman, husband, and father. There’s nothing flashy about the way he plays Patton - and that’s exactly the point. He’s a man worn down by consequence, driven not by ego but by obligation. When he steps back into the ring to fight Xavier Grau (a suitably imposing Bren Foster), it isn’t about glory; it’s about survival. That distinction gives Beast a welcome emotional anchor.
The film is at its strongest when it lingers on that tension between violence and responsibility. Patton isn’t just fighting an opponent - he’s negotiating with his past, with his fractured relationship with his brother (Mojean Aria), and with the trust he’s strained at home with Luciana (Kelly Gale). There’s a sincerity to these dynamics, even when the script occasionally spells things out a little too plainly. Some of the dialogue lands with a heavy hand, particularly in the domestic scenes, but the intent - to show a man actively trying to be better - comes through clearly.
There’s also something compelling in the film’s idea of masculinity. Patton’s strength isn’t just measured in punches thrown or taken, but in the quieter acts: admitting fault, making amends, choosing family over pride. It’s not a particularly radical idea, but Beast treats it with enough conviction that it feels earned rather than cliché.
Of course, this is still a fight film, and Atkins delivers solidly in the ring. The bouts have grit and impact. At times, the editing cuts around the action just when it should be letting it breathe, and a few slow-motion beats feel more obligatory than inspired. Still, when the choreography is allowed to unfold - particularly in the grappling exchanges - there’s a tactile realism that keeps things engaging. The final showdown, in particular, taps into that classic underdog electricity, even if you can see its trajectory coming.
Not everything lands cleanly. Luke Hemsworth leans hard into a slick, almost cartoonishly sleazy antagonist as the fight promoter, and while it adds a bit of heightened energy, it occasionally clashes with the film’s more grounded aspirations. The score, too, has a tendency to overstate moments that would’ve been more powerful with a lighter touch, as if it doesn’t quite trust the performances to carry the emotion on their own.
And yet, despite these missteps, Beast remains watchable - more than that, it’s quietly affecting. It understands that the appeal of these stories isn’t just the spectacle of violence, but the possibility of transformation. There’s a reason these narratives endure: we want to believe people can change, that damage isn’t destiny.
By the time the credits roll, Beast may not have reinvented the genre, but it doesn’t need to. It lands its punches where it counts - on the idea that redemption isn’t found in victory, but in the willingness to keep getting back up.
