Recent Female Helmed Horror

 

Recent Female Helmed Horror

by Kristin Battestella

This trio of pandemic era horror releases is led by female directors – each with an interesting perspective on the love, blood, and gore of the genre.

Fresh – Every female viewer will be hooked in the first five minutes of this Mimi Cave 2022 directorial debut thanks to a crappy date complaining about spicy food, talking down to the waitress, wishing women dressed nicer, expecting her to pay, not holding the door, and calling Daisy Edgar-Jones (Under the Banner of Heaven) a stuck up bitch. Phone chimes, swipe left apps, and unsolicited dick pics add to our innate fears of a woman walking alone at night, keys ready, looking over her shoulder. Snacking on carrots leads to a puffy coat and goofy sneakers for a solo grocery run, but Sebastian Stan (We Have Always Lived in the Castle) is flirting in the produce section with awkward ice breakers and demands she taste the grapes. Noa didn't think people met in real life anymore but she's excited when he texts for drinks, and the exposition is for them as much as us with his plastic surgeon jokes and her hatred of all the dating pressure and projections. Up close smiles and blurred laughter overlays visually reflect the blissful time before kisses, red lighting, and a well filmed consensual that's risque without being for the male gaze. Multiple mirrors reflect the pretenses, dual facades, or who we really are revelations as the red flags get lost in the whirlwind excitement. He's not on social media yet takes pictures of her and is ready to go away for a weekend together, but viewers notice the real world warnings beyond the horror movie. No cell service, leathery artwork, drinks,and red furniture lead to a fuzzy point of view, camera distortions, slurring audio, and drugged movements just before the credits appear a half hour into the film. It's shrewd they arrive once the premise is revealed, but it's odd to disrupt the momentum as Noa awakens chained and pleading while her captor is calm and upfront: he will keep her alive and sell her meat because he's still a nice guy, but if she loses his trust, there will be consequences. Arena rock and singing along while dicing up a leg provide demented humor amid the surgical violence, epidurals, and invasive carvings. Fifties-esque pink dresses and ironic eighties dances punctuate the captive delirium, disgust, and duplicitous layers that don't underestimate the audience. Meat presses, packing the ladies' photos, and shipping the meal plans to his exclusive clientele are all in a day's work. Chainsawing the ribs, meat grinders, jerky, and limbs suggest succulence instead of gore, however the carnivorous flashes and creepy deliveries should be the only point of view breaks and the “wistful music playing” cues for every scene transition are also unnecessary. Hectic chases and a somewhat unfinished end feel a little too long, but cowards and man meat get a taste of their own medicine. Though perhaps tough to stomach more than once, there are numerous visual references of eating with the left hand, mark of the beast dinnerware, and gory bites at $30k a plate. Women must still worry about their body, looks, and beauty to go along with the crazy men and free themselves. Tagged and labeled freezer bags create a system of ritual feast that rich white men get away with while the women are chewed up and spit out – literally.

Rose: A Love Story – A secluded couple has everything they need off the grid in this 2020 horror romance from director Jennifer Sheridan (The Snow Spider) – generators, water jugs, extra locks on the door, wind chimes alarms, and typewriters for low tech, low light living. Hunting and animal traps are a necessity with rabbits and deer a plenty in the snowy forest, but mail order leeches and a cut through the glove leave our Mrs. sickly and pale. Writer's block, semantics, and miscommunication hamper their affections, for she doesn't want him to police her and keep track but they both have to stick to the rules, keep their home secure, and take no risks. Fine lighting, UV colors, lanterns, candlelight, and shadows accent the humble, cluttered cabin while the laid back pacing matches the routine, if ominous lifestyle. They try to make saucy time, but she's afraid he'll think her gross, and the realistic relationship and honest characterizations are firmly established. Faulty electricity and sounds of a struggle in the dark mean only blood can calm her, but our husband is committed to his growling wife's care despite debates on who is unhappy or giving up on life. There is no elaborate explanation about how this happened, but arranged roadside contacts for supplies gone awry necessitate a paranoid drive into town and the rush to return home. Date night is a walk outside so long as she wears her mask, and seemingly innocuous classical music montages and reading her writing aloud foreshadow their precarious pretense. Screams in the night lead to an injured woman caught in one of their animal traps, disrupting their careful situation with bone settings, bloody clean ups, and threats to tell the police if they force the injured runaway to go back home. She becomes like a child between the couple as well as an audience anchor – doing tasks with each, gardening, and asking why they live like this. The getting away from the bustle, self sustaining model, skin issues, and sunlight troubles are crafty excuses, too, but we know there is something worse at the source. It's best to go into this cold and I don't want to give everything away, however this is not for viewers looking for full on, in your face horror. Not much happens, but the slow pace maintains the taut focus and doesn't overstay its welcome. The underlying horror, angry answers, bloody bites, and tragic violence are worth seeing to the end here.

I Wanted to Like It but...

Carmilla – Period frocks, lovely landscapes, slow still lifes, and rippling waters reflect the repressed monotony of this 2019 Le Fanu inspired British piece from writer and director Emily Harris (Borges and I). Candlelight, nibs, and no exterior views of the manor provide a claustrophobic, congested attention to detail as the sense of restless boredom grows for our budding teenager who's still treated like a child by her governess, struck with a ruler, and forced to bind her preferred left hand. She is punished for secretly reading anatomy books and left to peer around the corner as the adults talk or come and go freely while she's supposed to be practicing her elocution. Moss and greenery contrast the cold interiors amid conversations about nature and dead animals, however far too much time is spent on artistic insect shots, yearning out the window up close angles, and more crawling bugs arty awe. Such scenes and any brief point of view breaks are unnecessary once we are within the lonely character. Fortunately, thunderstorms and a carriage crash bring the unexpected titular guest who stays to recuperate. The firelight glow accents Carmilla's eerie appearance and feline eyes as the nights become bold with red hair down, loose white shifts, and bloody dreams. The girls laugh, run, hold their breath, and climb trees while the stifled governess rings the tea bell and sits alone, rigid and scraping her toast. The cross above Carmilla's bed is found on the floor, and macabre dreams escalate with disemboweling gore, gurgling kisses, smeared lips, and promises to become blood sisters. Is our ingenue sick from the blood exchange or just distraught at being separated from Carmilla after being caught bumping corsets and forced to pray? The young cast does quite well, but the brief kisses could come across as modern lez be friends baiting since neither the romance nor the vampire symbolism ever fully culminate. The slow unknown may be meant to mirror the period look, don't touch admire from afar beauty of women keeping themselves unexplored. Unfortunately, the intriguing phobias and finger pointing statements unravel in the ambiguous, arty commentary by time our jealous governess jumps to conclusions and persecutes Carmilla. Once again, the troubles may stem from a one and the same writer and director that went for something existential rather than making the vampirism clear. This is lovely for period piece fans and those looking for a unique gothic romance or lesbian drama, but the tragic relationship versus vampire blood could have been much more.