Reviews
‘The Devil’s Bath’ Tribeca Review – Veronika Franz and Severin Fiala’s Bleakest Horror Movie Yet
Austrian filmmakers Veronika Franz and Severin Fiala already established a reputation for bleak, atmospheric horror with their debut feature, Goodnight Mommy, and their bleaker follow-up, The Lodge. Their latest, The Devil’s Bath, continues that trend with their most despairing effort yet, mining period horror from history. It’s an affecting yet grueling depiction of life in 18th-century Austria, immersive in the way it creates profound, methodical empathy for a tender-hearted woman trapped by isolation.
A shocking act of violence opens The Devil’s Bath, one that lays the narrative groundwork while offering ample horror to hold fans over as it shifts into a meticulous character study. It’s the type of cold open that’s unsettling and taboo, shaking up the filmmakers’ usual depiction of evil children. From there, the film introduces Agnes (Anja Plaschg), a gentle soul with an affinity for kindness and nature. We meet Agnes on the day she’s to wed her betrothed, Wolf (David Scheid). The village-wide revelry shows promise of enduring happiness for the new couple, but Agnes quickly finds herself struggling to adapt to Wolf’s way of life.
Combined with societal pressures, the young bride finds her desperation mounting as isolation sets in, escalating until it pushes her down a dark path toward evil.
Photo Credit: Courtesy of Ulrich Seid Film Produktion and Heimatfilm. A Shudder Release.
Shot on glorious 35mm, Franz and Fiala painstakingly recreate the period to depict the harsh realities of the 18th century. The gentle Agnes is wholly unprepared for the labor intensive life on Wolf’s land, from the physically grueling work of mongering fish from Wolf’s muddy pond to the strict schedule her mother in law, Mother Gänglin (Maria Hofstätter), expects her to already know. Agnes’ despair grows increasingly dire the more she fails her wifely duties.
It’s not just the stunning production design that conveys the crude way of life but the subtle character details that shape Agnes’ daunting arc. Scheid infuses Wolf with a sympathetic nature but one duty bound to his responsibilities. Wolf loves and cares for Agnes, but he, too, is shackled by the societal norms of this era. His pure but unromantic love for Agnes eschews 18th-century norms, and it further catalyzes her psychological unraveling.
Photo Credit: Courtesy of Ulrich Seid Film Produktion and Heimatfilm. A Shudder Release.
Of course, this film belongs to Plaschg, who instantly endears with her kind-hearted nature but rips your heart out with the film’s emotionally devastating finale. The horror here stems from reality and historical accounts centered around depression in an age where medicine was primitive. Franz and Fiala take it to physical extremes as Agnes resorts to more and more desperate measures to cauterize her suffering. But it’s Plaschg that makes Agnes’ anguish palpable, delivering a rousing, heartbreaking emotional breakdown in the climax.
The Devil’s Bath saturates itself so thoroughly in misery and psychological distress that it’s difficult not to be affected by Agnes’ plight. But it also leaves you so wrung out emotionally that it’s not one that you’ll want to revisit again any time soon. That the horror stems from grim reality and historical accounts leaves no room for levity or escapism; it’s two hours of escalating suffering, building toward a horrific finale that packs a potent, somber punch. The exquisite craftsmanship and powerhouse performances keep you deeply invested in this downward spiral, but buckle up: it’s a downer of the highest order.
The Devil’s Bath opens at the IFC Center in New York June 21 before arriving exclusively on Shudder on June 28.
Reviews
‘Her Private Hell’ Review: Nicolas Winding Refn Returns With a Hypnotic, Inscrutable Neon Fever Dream
Nicolas Winding Refn considers his first feature film in ten years, Her Private Hell, a resurrection. At the Cannes Film Festival earlier this year, the filmmaker revealed that his return was inspired, in large part, by his own mortality. His need to create art kicked into overdrive after beating death in 2023, when his heart stopped for 25 minutes.
Her Private Hell is pure art, too, bearing the filmmaker’s neon and synth signatures, as well as a deep disinterest in scrutable storytelling. Much like The Neon Demon, Refn’s latest demands you bend to its wavelength: an expressionistic vision more interested in the artistic process than the narrative.
That’s not to say that Her Private Hell lacks plot; this sci-fi horror noir features two central overlapping plots. At the forefront is actress Elle (Sophie Thatcher), who lives in the penthouse suite overlooking a hazy neon metropolis with her father, Johnny Thunders (Dougray Scott), and young stepmom Dominique (Havana Rose Liu), who happens to be Elle’s former best friend before marriage got in the way.
To say that Elle has daddy issues would be an understatement, made worse by insecurities, the arrival of a new acting ingenue (Kristine Froseth), and a vicious killer prowling the city: the Leather Man.
The secondary plot follows the enigmatic Private K (Charles Melton), an American soldier in Japan with resolute vengeance on his mind. Whereas Elle’s world exists in a space of glamour and opulence, Private K pummels his way bare-knuckled through the sweaty backstreets ruled by local crime syndicates down below.
Refn, who co-writes with Esti Giordani, manages to corral a variety of seemingly disparate genres and influences into a clinically cold and cryptic whole. The filmmaker infuses his signature style with everything from ’60s sci-fi to Golden Age Hollywood melodrama to Japanese folklore, hung on the framework of a Dario Argento-style Giallo. There’s a prominent psychosexual edge to both Elle and Private K’s separate journeys, one that dials up to zany excess when it comes to the former character.
There’s an overarching sense of mystic mythmaking to Her Private Hell, with elusive seamstresses, played by Shioli Kutsuna and Aoi Yamada, dipping in and out like folkloric, omnipotent kitsune as they seemingly preside over the increasing chaos that entails brutal knife fights, Freudian melodrama, and a supernatural killer that brutally rips his victims apart. All of it told with Refn’s detached, sterile style.
It’s less a conventional movie and more a stream of consciousness, a collection of inspirations and personal thoughts and themes. Nothing is really explained in this nonsensical fairy tale fever dream. Thatcher gives herself fully to the spoiled Elle, whose affluent privilege makes her a bundle of raw, primal emotions that erodes her sense of identity and reality. It makes her the tonal and visual opposite of the elusive Private K., and much credit goes to Refn, Melton, and Thatcher for wringing compelling performances out of such nebulous, vague characters.
As with most of Refn’s work, you’re either on his frequency or not. Her Private Hell is wholly uninterested in explanation or convention. It’s also heavily disjointed and unhurried in its eclectic, sparse amalgamation of genre inspirations. Still, it’s tough not to fall sway to the magnetic allure of its exquisite, pulse-pounding sights and sounds, complete with an incredible score by legendary composer Pino Donaggio.
While it never fully pulls you into its tangled web of artistic musings, there’s a lot to admire in a technically stunning feature this fearless in its incomprehensibility and ambition.
Her Private Hell releases in theaters on July 24.
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