Flirting between the genre boundary-lines of a high-stakes thriller, a gruesome virus-centric horror, and an unconventional romance — Vincent Must Die bravely traverses its sea of inundated influences with unsubstantiated strides. Borrowing heavily from Rob Jabbaz's The Sadness and Susanne Bier's Bird Box; Vincent Must Die tumbles down a familiar rabbit-hole of contrived conflicts, akin to the aforementioned titles. The genre-paradox repeats itself, with a narrative held together by a flimsy structure. Stéphan Castang's imperfect debut is infected with half-baked ideas and under-developed twists; minimising the impact of its promising commentary in the process.
The emotional pull of Vincent Must Die are the film's multi-faceted allegories; a written treatment that provides plentiful ideas and interpretations. On one hand, you can view the cataclysmic events as a literal personification of an entire population's restless anxiety. Castang explores the protagonist's deteriorating mental health with captivating realism; a survival story that's reminiscent of life after COVID lockdown. Through a sociological lens, Vincent Must Die also works as a commentary on France's terrorist mourning pains. Both interpretations are equally enthralling — adding depth to the catastrophic ripples of senseless violence.
The fear of the unknown provides inviting ambiguity. The charm & sardonic wit of Castang's genre-experiment is also sustained by his working-class depictions — adding plentiful thematic contrast against the mundanity of a 9 to 5 routine. Vincent, the film's titular protagonist, is merely another worker at a capitalist-mandated firm. Due to the simplicity and relatability of his survival antics, the viewer automatically feels Vincent's vulnerability from afar. Vincent isn't a perfect hero, or a good person by any-means; a toxic, whiny, but ultimately distinguishable character that provides the film's critical humanity.
It isn't until the underwhelming third-act, where Castang diminishes the impact of his auspicious setup. By its meandering conclusion, Vincent Must Die sacrifices the poignancy of its ambiguous metaphors, by redirecting its viewer through an apocalyptic hellscape. The sudden conversion of ideas and genre-conventions undercuts the tension of its pre-established motifs and visual-allegories. The adjacent romantic B-plot also deters the film into a pool of shoddy Hollywood cliches. The chemistry is laughably absent, where the rushed beats harm the anti-climactic resolution.
The narrative conclusions surrounding Castang's genre-piece lacks the desired bite of its gifted grassroots. There's a missed opportunity to peel back the humanity at the crux of the film's violent provocations; a desire to unearth, examine, and relish in the mental & physical ramifications of the film's traumatic acts. Since we're situated in Vincent's headspace from the opening seconds of the film, it would only make enough sense to extrapolate as much anguish & remorse from his erratic perspective. The contrast would have better illustrated the film's messaging, for the pleasures of an emotionally satisfying gut-punch. The rules of the game are virtually ignored as a result of its messy storytelling; lacking continuity with the questionable logistics behind each of its implausible scenarios. Lack of consistency is the film's unfortunate weakness. At the beating heart of Castang's debut is a lackluster genre-exercise with bountiful potential.
