A cursory glance at IMDB indicates that there are roughly 54 feature length films that carry the title “Revenge.” And even in the face of that not-insignificant number, it’s somehow still difficult to imagine any of them living up to that title with anything like the pungent, primordial power of Coralie Fargeat’s French language thriller. Unadorned, unhinged, and uncompromising in its portrayal of righteous bloody vengeance, there’s no time for hand wringing or musings on the pointlessness of payback. It creates a scenario where retribution is no less than a matter of absolute survival. And in laying out its case via the use of high cinematic style, Revenge works overtime to earn every inch of its gruesomeness.
Jennifer (Matilda Anna Ingrid Lutz) is our heroine, introduced sucking on a lollipop; a lithe figure of almost cartoonish temptation. She is the mistress of Richard (Kevin Janssens, oozing sociopathic charm), a wealthy family man who clearly fancies himself a master of the universe. And it isn’t more than three minutes between when we meet her and she drops to her knees to replace that lollipop with something of a far fleshier vintage.
But while it’s all sex and candy from the outset, the film doesn’t take long at all to establish its feminist bonafides: while Jennifer is clearly a self-styled trompe l’ oeil, it’s Richard’s casual nudity that dominates. The camera practically licks its lips, fixing it’s gaze on Kevin Janssens’ exquisitely sculpted form as he parades around his sleek hunting lodge in the moonlight.
Their erotic and physically symmetrical bliss is interrupted by the early arrival of Stan (Vincent Colombe) and Dimitri (Guillaume Bouchède), his toadlike hunting buddies. Unspeakably average looking in the face of such beauty, they are instantly transfixed. Stan in particular has an eye for Jennifer, one that will end poorly for pretty much everyone involved.
For those who have been here before, this will come as no surprise, but newcomers should probably be aware that this film falls under the category of the “rape revenge” subgenre, which is exactly what it sounds like. As one might expect, the majority of these types of films tilt towards the lamentable edge of the scale. But as the saying goes, “it’s not what the film is about, but how it is about it.” And when there is a strong, conscientious hand behind the camera (like, for instance Abel Ferrara on Ms. 45), the results can be sublime.
And so Fargeat overcomes the troubling nature of the genre through a combination of pure style and elemental power. Stripping away nearly every detail audiences might latch on to for a sense of comfort or safety, up to and including civilization itself, lends the film a certain mythic power; its characters, which are not at all well-developed (intentionally so), function less as characters and more as players acting out a cosmic myth of unholy retribution.
For all her slinky sensuality in the opening scenes, it’s a brief shot as Stan and Dimitri arrive unexpectedly that does more to reveal the truth at the heart of Jennifer when we first meet her. In her startled reaction to their unexpected appearance, the camera frames her in a way that makes her seem almost childlike in their presence.
Fargeat revels in these tiny moments, using them to flesh out what are, for all intents and purposes, genre archetypes. We get practically nothing in the way of backstory, and yet everyone involved feels achingly human.
Until they don’t.
The moment things go wrong and Richard sheds his person mask to reveal the monster within and exactly how far he will go to preserve the life he’s made for himself, and Jennifer in turn is forced to become something both more and less than human to survive, there are no people anymore, no characters.
There are only the hunters, and the hunted.
And neither is quite sure which is which, until it’s too late.
And while much credit is due to the excessively named Matilda Anna Ingrid Lutz for a remarkable, near silent physical performance that makes turning from sex doll to action figure look as easy as flipping a light switch, it’s really Fargeat and everyone behind the scenes that fuel Revenge’s glory: The cinematography by Robrecht Heyvaert bathes all the gory goings on in a shimmering, day glo haze that makes death in the desert seem strangely inviting; the extraordinarily visceral sound design makes dripping blood sound like cannon fire and buries an ominous drone in the background mix of the opening scenes, creating a baseline of foreboding tension even in the happier, sexier pre-mutilation moments.
Revenge more than earns the title, and ultimately, to say much more than that would be rather redundant. Given the title, we all know what we’re here for, and the movie delivers it with an almost morbid glee. And you can’t ask for much more than that.
Revenge opens in theaters May 11, 2018.
