Under the umbrella of doll horror exists a very niche subcategory that features life-sized mannequins or dummies used as a conduit for unhinged characters to explore their repressed sexuality or emotions. The Lodger is the latest to join this tiny club, bringing an intriguing new take on the oft-tired love triangle in the process. It’s a fascinating and ambiguous chamber piece that strikes a unique balance between psychological horror and surreal fantasy.
Julie (Alice Isaaz) comes from a sheltered existence in a small town in the middle of nowhere. She just started university in Bordeaux and is committed to her medical studies. Julie finds a room near campus in a home owned by the eccentric Elizabeth (Jacqueline Bisset), who offers her free board in exchange for chores. The setup seems perfect, both in location and the warmth of the home’s host. The only catch is that Elizabeth behaves as if her long-deceased husband, Victor, is still around. The longer Julie stays, the more she feels his presence, sparking the start of a dangerous love triangle.
Director Baptiste Drapeau keeps you guessing throughout. Is Elizabeth unwell, unable to move past the death of Victor twenty years ago? Or does his ghost linger? Drapeau builds a compelling case for both sides of the argument while putting the increasingly complex women in focus. Minor unsettling signs of the paranormal mark the start of Julie’s living arrangements, but then small red flags that Elizabeth harbors dark secrets. Then, once Julie brings home a medical dummy from school to act as a Victor surrogate, Drapeau escalates the madness tenfold.
Nothing is ever quite as it seems in The Lodger. Bisset gives Elizabeth a deeply enigmatic yet charming quality that masks impressive rage. Isaaz’s Julie starts as an innocent girl coming of age in a city she’s unaccustomed to, which comes with a requisite awakening. Both leads skillfully present unreliable narrators, adding complexity to a story already deeply saturated in ambiguity. That’s before Julie gives in to her imagination.
For a feature that spends so much effort prolonging its mysteries, Victor’s past holds very few surprises at all. It’s a tiny but necessary blip in painting a potent portrait of the power his presence keeps over two vastly different yet similar women. Bisset and Isaaz are remarkable in their nuanced performances, delivering a twisted push and pull between two emotionally fragile characters.
The Lodger delivers a captivating tale that blurs the lines between fantasy and horror, refusing to handhold. That it veers so far into surrealism means that its payoff doesn’t quite reach the same heights as everything that came before. Still, it’s an experiential journey full of unpredictability. It may not push the boundaries of horror far enough or give tidy answers to its lingering questions, but that’s also what sets it apart. Drapeau injects an elegant fantasy into a deranged psychological tale, bringing the dread and whimsy in spades. Not since 1988’s Pin has the medical dummy been used so disturbingly and in such a warped, romantic way.
