For a horror fan and blogger, I must admit I’m not great at keeping up with new releases. Sure, I would like to, but somehow there just isn’t time and while I could check out the new movie getting buzz, I often end up filling some gap in my horror knowledge with an older film I’ve long meant to see, or I just re-watch something I already know I enjoy. I mean, there’s just so much coming out all the time, and since it’s pretty much impossible to see everything, the percentage of horror films released that I’ve seen grows ever smaller.
But this week I actually managed to catch up on three new films that came to streaming services in this last year and I was struck by a recurring theme that runs through all of them. Fresh (on Hulu in the States, but carried on Disney+ in much of the rest of the world), Run, Sweetheart, Run (on Prime), and A Wounded Fawn (on Shudder) all center on a woman going on a date (or something that comes to feel like a date) with some seemingly nice guy, ignoring passing moments of aggression, domineering behavior, or just gut feelings of weirdness that might have warned her away, ending up at his luxurious home, and then, finally, finding herself in the middle of a crazy-stuff-is-going-down horror film. Let’s call it “red flag horror.”
Of course, it’s nothing new for horror to feature women threatened by vicious men. Rape-Revenge movies, from Bergman’s The Virgin Spring in 1960, to 1978’s I Spit on Your Grave, to more recently, the 2017 French movie Revenge, have long done just that. 80s slashers featured so many images of women being stalked by masked male figures that many came (rightly or wrongly – a discussion for another time) to view the sub-genre as quite misogynistic. And more recently, movies like The Invisible Man (2020), Men (2022), Assassination Nation (2018), the Black Christmas remake (2019), or Promising Young Woman (2020) have all foregrounded women navigating a minefield of dangerously entitled, possessive, abusive men. Another big release this year, Barbarian (2022), also turned on whether or not a female character listens to her gut or takes a chance on a guy she doesn’t know not being a psycho or a rapist (in the beginning, she’s so very careful, but when she stops being careful, she really stops being careful and then it’s time to start shouting at the screen). There have been so many of late that it really feels like a trend, but these three that I watched this week, all released close enough together that I can’t imagine anyone copied anyone else, follow key story beats so closely – it just has to mean something, right?
Maybe it’s that, five years after #MeToo first trended, public awareness has simply grown of the exhausting degree to which so many women need to be on guard to protect themselves in everyday situations and therefore, more writers and directors are centering on that experience, tapping into a fear fresh in people’s minds to make successful horror that rings true with people’s lived experience (just as it has long been observed that, e.g., filmmakers in the 50s made alien invasion/giant bug movies that were all about communism). But it’s not like the menace a woman can feel going to a remote cabin with a man she’s just been seeing for a short time is at all new; it’s only new that it’s so openly and frequently discussed – so is it maybe just that producers see an opportunity in investing in work that is very “now,” ripped from the headlines in a utterly opportunistic money grab? Both can certainly be true.
Either way, I find it fascinating to note this repetition of not just theme, but specific actions – a nascent trope taking shape. And so, let’s have a quick look at these three quite dissimilar films which all rest on strikingly similar foundations. There will be significant spoilers, so be forewarned.
Fresh (2022)
Written by Lauryn Kahn, Mimi Cave’s feature debut starts with its heroine, Noa (Daisy Edgar-Jones), enduring the myriad indignities of app-based dating. Between jerks who tell her how much nicer she’d look in a dress and the endless, roiling sea of dick-pics, she’s not having a very nice time. Then she has what seems to be a chance encounter with Steve, a nice, funny guy (and a doctor, no less), in the produce aisle and she feels cautiously optimistic for the first time in ages that she might have actually met somebody she likes. Somebody with no social media profile that she can look up. Somebody who asks about her friends in an offputtingly wary fashion. Somebody who suggests that even though they’ve just started dating, they should throw caution to the wind and go away for the weekend together – to a beautiful but remote area with poor cell phone reception.
But he’s a super warm, goofy, charming guy and, ignoring the many vetoes of her best friend Mollie, Noa agrees. Then, on the way out of town, he explains there’s a problem and they’ll need to leave in the morning, so why don’t they stay at his place (which she’s never seen before and is way out in the middle of nowhere – but a different middle of nowhere than she’d told her friend she’d be in, also with no good reception) for the night? The next thing she knows, her wine drugged, she wakes up chained to the wall in a nicely finished cell in his basement (next to the cells of a few other girls), being kept alive so that he can cut off bits and pieces and sell them to unbelievably rich cannibals who want only the freshest meat.
And yet, there is still a kind of chemistry – he is still noticeably interested in her and while she now knows him to be a sociopathic, woman-eating killer, he is no less charming and funny (Sebastian Stan, who I only knew before as Marvel’s Winter Soldier, really threads a needle here – at once so likeable and so awful). Thus, after a period of despair, and losing one round roast in the name of haute cuisine, Noa continues the date, hoping to placate Steve and stay alive and relatively whole until she finds an opportunity for escape.
Edgar-Jones delivers a really nuanced performance. As she dines with him, makes cannibal jokes, flirts, and bides her time, you get the sense that she is full of contradictory emotions. She’s terrified, but he’s also surprisingly easy to spend time with. She hates him and what he’s done to her and the other women being held prisoner, but the food (though morally repugnant) is actually delicious, he makes her laugh, and if you could just forget the whole false imprisonment and involuntary surgery, there is a genuine spark between them. Or she’s just acting the part to a tee. Just playing him until she gets her chance. It’s never clear and it feels as if it might not even be clear to her either – maybe everything she does is calculated and in control and maybe this is an example of how it can be so hard to leave an abusive partner. It can’t be overstated how enjoyable the interchange is between these two performers. It is a delicate dance.
I will say this is a really fun watch: blackly comic without robbing its subject matter of its weight, and rooted in real world problematics, from gender based violence to late stage capitalism. Noa’s plight is never less than horrifying, but Cave uses a pretty light touch, and while Noa chooses to ignore signs she shouldn’t have, it’s easy to go along with her decisions. Nothing is glaringly amiss before she wakes up in the basement. He never explodes in anger. He doesn’t stare at her fingers, licking his lips and talking about how tasty she looks. But it’s clear that even the gentlest, funniest guy could be a monster, and if your best friend tells you not to go, you probably shouldn’t.
Run Sweetheart Run (2022)
Shana Feste’s film follows Cherie (Ella Balinska) a secretary and single mother who is sent by her boss to entertain Ethan (Pilou Asbæk), an important client, due to a scheduling conflict. She assures her baby sitter that it is not a date, but dresses in such a way that she can choose later to keep things business-like or go for a sexier look. Picking him up at his home, she finds him living in an amazing, temple-like mansion and they head out to dinner. He is rich, handsome, and charming, and one moment notwithstanding when he shouts at someone whose dog gets too close to him, explaining he had been seriously bitten as a child, she has a good time and the evening moves closer and closer to date territory.
Of course that one moment of screaming at a stranger in a restaurant was aggressive and kinda scary. And he seems a touch too smooth to believe. And maybe a bit on the dominant side, but there is an attraction, and when she drops him off back at his place, he invites her in. She almost doesn’t do it, almost listens to that little voice inside and goes home to relieve the babysitter, but it’s been a nice night so far and she wants to go for it, so she does.
At this point, we get our first clear sign that Ethan is more than just a run-of-the-mill creep. Before following her into his house, he holds up his hand, stopping the camera from following him (something like this will happen a couple more times, suggesting a control he maintains over the narrative). The door closes and the camera just watches it. Faintly, we can hear shouting and some kind of crashing until, about a minute later, Cherie bursts through the door and escapes into the night.
Without her phone (everything is in his place), she goes looking for help, but is everywhere met with suspicion, and when she goes to the police, they arrest her for public intoxication (she had a glass or two of wine, but all bloodied, she apparently looks suspicious). Eventually, we learn that Ethan is some thing of great power and that her boss had given her to him as a “tithe” so that he could hunt her, chasing the smell of her blood (and of course, her period’s just started). I will say that when we finally get an explanation of what he is and what he is doing, I was underwhelmed – it was all a bit too on the nose – awkward fantasy world building and political messaging so explicit as to render the remaining run-time strictly allegorical. But until then, it was a really intriguing, exciting, frustrating chase. There is a moment when, backed into a church, he tells Cherie that she ‘will always lose because people believe in me’ before showing her his true form (which we can’t see). In the moment, I wondered if he was Jupiter? If he was God-the-father? If he was the concept of patriarchy made flesh? I kind of wish the question hadn’t been answered because it was much richer not knowing.
But with the exception of this one element, so much of the rest of the film really works. From the moment when she’s leaving the Police Station in the middle of the night and each figure on the street could be Ethan (tension), but isn’t (relief), but is still some man she doesn’t know (tension again), to the discovery that she is but the most recent girl that her boss has sent to Ethan over the years, the film paints a dark picture in which a woman can reasonably trust no man, in which every guy on the street is a potential threat, in which the men of the world conspire together to preserve their own power.
It’s in that last point that I think the film overreaches in a way that serves neither its story nor its mission. I could be wrong, but I doubt patriarchy is perpetuated by men so explicitly, with some powerful leader definitively ensuring that “men keep all the power” (all while twirling his mustache). I feel making a motivation that obvious, that intentional, that comic book supervillain-esque effectively masks real systemic/psycho-social factors at play, whereas a monster could be used to embody them and hence, bring them to light (something horror is uniquely good at).
A Wounded Fawn (2022)
This is Travis Stevens’s third feature and also his third film to highlight women abused, targeted, or undervalued and unfulfilled by men (I particularly enjoyed his second feature, Jakob’s Wife). Here, we meet Meredith (Sarah Lind), who works at a gallery and has recently recovered from a particularly bad breakup. She’s excited to tell her friends that she actually has plans for the weekend as she’s going away with this guy she’s started seeing to his cabin. She’s had a hard time of it and it’s been difficult for her to open up again, but she’s been making the effort and he’s really nice.
Of course, the first time we see him, we know he’s bad news as we already watched him murder a woman in the cold open, an art dealer who beat him at an auction in buying a statue of the three furies harrying some hapless fellow. He seems to have been compelled to carry out his attack by some mysterious, golden, owl headed figure for reasons unknown, but this doesn’t stop him from keeping the coveted statue for himself.
In the car on the way out of town, there are So Many Red Flags. While driving, he puts his hand on her knee in a proprietary fashion. He drifts off into strange silence when she describes her thesis in university (how women artists have been stolen from and erased from history). He gets weird when she asks about his family. And when Meredith asks to stop at a roadside market to use the bathroom, he gets angry at her because ‘they’re almost there – can’t she hang on just a bit longer?’ It should be noted that it’s the afternoon when this happens and when they arrive, it’s full on night time. Also, as a clear visual pun, when they drive past the market without making the requested stop, the camera pans over to a string of red flags, flapping in the wind above the produce.
What follows is a very uncomfortable sequence in which Meredith clearly does not feel safe, but is now out in the middle of nowhere with this guy who has revealed an explosive temper. Still, she tries to relax into the evening and enjoy herself, or at least manage not to set him off. Finally, after a series of odd occurrences (apparently unrelated to him), she puts her foot down and demands that they go back to the city. Of course, that’s when the owl “makes” him try to kill her and the film takes a major turn for the weird.
The rest of the run time is given over to Bruce. Having come to after she’d knocked him out with the statue, he is hounded by the furies himself, their faces and voices provided by his recent or attempted victims (the art dealer from the cold open, Meredith). As he keeps deflecting blame to the force that makes him kill, the thing in his head that’s not him, the owl spirit, the furies attack him mentally, physically, and spiritually (it gets pretty trippy), demanding that he finally take responsibility for his own actions.
Was there really a mythic owl-headed force making him kill, or does he do it cause he wants to and this is how he justifies it to himself? Is he being hounded by Greek Eumenides, or is Meredith somehow doing this and his insane imagination just processes it this way? This final act is interesting and boldly creative, but also difficult and could try one’s patience if not exactly in the mood for it. Regardless, the first act is a powerhouse, layering tension upon tension, Meredith alternating between listening to her gut and telling herself it’s ok and trying to make it work, between desperately wanting to leave and being so careful not to say or do the wrong thing around this man she no longer trusts.
—
And so, there we have three recent films, all of which could have been cut short if the woman at their center had just trusted her instincts sooner and not gone along with this rich, handsome, charming, but somehow-something’s-not-quite-right-about-him man. Is it merely a coincidence that they all came out within a few months of each other? Does it rather tell us something about how we as a society are currently viewing the dynamics between men and women? About our current fears? Does it speak of a kind of progress in terms of a growing understanding of social inequalities that need to be remedied? Maybe. It’s possible. That would be good.
But to be fair, those inequalities, those dangers that have traditionally and disproportionally fallen on one half of the population have been around for a long time, at least that half the population has always been all too aware of this fact, and both halves have long been willing to turn blind eyes to keep business running as usual, so I don’t know that some parallel plot points in three direct-to-streaming horror flicks can really be taken as evidence of a real sea change. Of all of the powerful men that got ‘cancelled’ in the heat of the #MeToo moment, many have returned to their former work or positions (though some ended up in jail, so that’s something).
That said, however, one of the things I love about horror, especially lower profile, lower budget work that never really takes the spotlight, is the way that it can reveal things people are thinking about. Maybe these films speak to that – these and the many others previously listed that have come out recently and which carry a more modern awareness of the enduringly persistent violence of power-gender dynamics. And on top of that, they are fun, weird movies. If I haven’t completely spoiled them for you, I suggest checking them out.
