Despite being billed as a horror movie, director Adrien Beau’s Le Vourdalak is not a scary film. After watching it, no lights will stay on; winks will be gotten, and willies will remain unscared and within. No, it does not scare—at least not on the surface. There’s something more going on with it—a deeper dive into the uncanny than most horror films manage. Everything is off balance and seems to be working on its own dream logic. Its imagery and story stay with the viewer long after the credits roll.
Opening on a dark and soft-focus night, Le Vourdalak follows the young and foppish Marquis Jacques Antoine Saturnin d’Urfe (Kacey Mottet Klein). An envoy for the King of France, the Marquis has been robbed by brigands in Serbia. Unable to find shelter, he is sent to the house of Gorcha (Adrien Beau). Journeying through the woods, he meets Gorcha’s children, siblings Piotr (Vassili Schneider) and the strange Sdenka (Ariane Labed), with whom the Marquis becomes quickly smitten.
The rest of Gorcha’s clan includes older brother and all-around hardman Jegor (Grégoire Colin), his wife Anja (Claire Duburcq) and young son Vald (Gabriel Pavie). Bandits have recently raided the family’s village, and the ailing Gorcha has gone out to hunt them. But he left them with a warning. If he hadn’t returned home after six days, he would have become a vourdalak, a vampiric-like creature. On cue, just after six days, the corpse-like Gorcha returns to a frightened family.
Shot on Super 16 MM with a soft focus in dank, mist-choked woodlands, Le Vourdalak feels like it was made in a previous era. It blends German Expressionism with French New Wave and Gothic Horror. It owes itself equally to the 1922 Nosferatu as well as Werner Herzog’s 1979 remake. There’s Carl Dreyer’s Vampyr in there, but it also has just as much of 1987’s Near Dark and del Toro’s Cronos. Other directors who try to do so much often stuff their films with references while winking towards the camera. And end up having nothing worth saying at all. But Beau is inspired by these films and genres, not trying to copy-paste them, and has created what should be called Nouveau Expressionism.
Beau marries his nightmare-like visual style with a horrific sound design that adds intensity to the proceedings. Corpse like Gorcha is as far removed from the sexy, tragic vampire of modern Hollywood as possible. He is a corpse marionette that crawls around the frame, like the monster under the bed. In another film, it would feel like a gimmick straight out of an 80s B-movie, but here, Beau has used it to add another layer to the film’s uncanny tone. The characters, horrified as they are, accept it, and so must the viewer. Added on to this is the sound of Gorcha’s physical movements. Amplified and mixed by what sounds like old, damp meat dragged over a broken rock. This IS what a moving corpse would sound like.
On the surface, Le Vourdalak is a gothic vampire horror with a malevolent antagonist. But strip back the gory layers, and the viewer discovers a toxic family that has only grown worse since Gorcha developed his neck-biting fetish. Throughout it all, there are hints that Gorcha has always been this way. He is a cruel, narcissistic parent. Belittling one child while stroking the ego of another, controlling another through emotional blackmail and ridicule, domineering them all, denying any freedom. He demands their love for what appears to be no other reason than his amusement. At one point, Piotr states that a vourdalak will first drain the life of their family. They are all trapped, physically and emotionally, in the house as Gorcha fosters co-dependency upon them.
Le Vourdalak is a dark, haunting film that delights in disturbing visuals and abusive familial dynamics. It leaves an unsettling taste in your mouth that stays with you for a while.
The Vourdalak is on digital platforms on 16 September 2024
