MALEFIQUE

The French are no strangers to darkness. From the atrocities of the French Revolution, where the guillotine painted the streets crimson with the spilled life of the aristocracy to the infamous trials of Peter Stub and other accused werewolves, French history reads like a lurid paperback novel. This unholy marriage of historical violence and the macabre found artistic reflection in the theatre of the Grand Guignol, where graphic torture, rape, and death shocked and titillated thrill seekers long before 'splatter' became a cinematic catch phrase. With all of this unfettered rage and sensationalism, one would think that the French would have been frequent contributors to the horror genre, yet this has curiously not been the case. Never embracing the genre with the enthusiasm of the Italians or Spanish, French horror films have been relatively scarce. Still, the French have made up in quality what they have lacked in quantity, giving us some truly poetic, lurid, and titillating nightmares. Such influential titles as Eyes Without A Face and Beauty and the Beast hail from that country as does Jean Rollins. And lately, a new revolution has been forming. The streets of France run with blood once again, but this time the carnage is on the screen. A new wave of daring young filmmakers have been unleashing a torrent of bold, bloody, and intelligent nightmares on the world, outdoing the visceral outrages of both Italian and Asian shock cinema with a profusion of taboo themes and a visual intensity lacking for some time in the genre. Malfique, the newest shocker to hit our shored from France, is both graphic and intelligent, as capable of arousing terror through the strength of its imagination and depth of characterization as with its generous spillage of blood. Completely and unrepentantly chilling, the greatest accomplishment of this supernatural prison drama is its marriage of dark atmosphere and nihilistic philosophy.

An inventive blend of traditional occult themes and gritty realism, Malefique centers around four prisoners in a prison cell who discover a haunted journal promising to free them from their bondage. Carrere is a young CEO imprisoned for fraud, and the story revolves around his smoldering rage, love for his son, and interactions with fellow inmates: a transsexual part way through his sex change, an idiot, and an ex-intellectual who murdered his wife. Amidst the drab and spirit killing tension of prison there appears a book found behind a loose stone. It is the journal of Danvers, a child killer and practitioner of esotericism who mysteriously escaped his holding cell through magic incantations. When Carrere discovers that the journal is a recipe of occult puzzles , spells, and diagrams, he and the others try to master these dark rituals to escape their own plight. With disastrous and hair raising consequences. For each layer of magic they penetrate, further and increasingly dangerous phenomena occurs, until it becomes tragically clear that the book is using them, and that the demonic forces raised first by Danvers and now by them are going to give them exactly what they want. In the worst ways possible.

A horrific hybrid of occult thriller and prison genres, Malefique is also a parable against messing with things left best alone. A modern reinterpretation of Faustus, this emotionally involving and thematically complex descent into the dangers of the occult and forbidden knowledge works so very well precisely because it doesn't preach. The characters in search of esoteric knowledge/power are documented wrestling with the unknown, and while many malignant (and surprising) terrors and tragedies result, never does the director suggest that this is a warning or condemnation of the occult. The tragedies that occur are simply the end result of desperate men's intentions. This along with the moral ambiguity of the characters and situations makes the entire affair so much more disturbing than if too emphasized a moral message had been hammered down our throats. In fact, there seems to be no justice or salvation afforded these men, which is its bleak and nihilistic point. Serious horror for thinking audiences, there is enough gore, shocks, and intriguing supernatural manifestations to make it as fun to watch as it is to ponder. More importantly, the supernatural and fantastical elements are grounded so deeply and naturally in a context of realism and social context that they -- and the characters -- are not only convincing but capable of drawing some degree of empathy. The characters ARE the story. Not simply window dressing, these men despite (or perhaps because of) their transgressions and pasts, their nightmares and desires, lend authenticity to the dark miracles that stem from the book (and feed on their ignorance and desires). Visually speaking the entire experience is surrounded by grays and darkness, mirroring the mental states of the inmates and their dire prediction. A noir-like feeling, complete with overwhelming moroseness and despair, underscores why these men are willing to play with fate. Likewise, the gritty brutality and helplessness of the prison environment provides an intriguing counterpoint to the dark majesty of the occult. A dreadful puzzle box of Faustian proportions, Malefique is malevolent, merciless, and magnificent.

BCI offers this atmospheric and terse horrific drama in a visual presentation that faithfully represents its dark, bold vision. The picture is preserved in satisfying 2.35:1 widescreen, clean and without any troublesome grain or flaws. Colors are consciously drab, adding to the bleak action, but skin tones are believable, and the supernatural, when it does occur, is more startling precisely because it is so much more colorful than the depictions of everyday prison drudgery. Audio is featured in DTS French and French language 5.1, with the later sounding more even in distribution of effects and dialogue. Both tracks are free of distortion or background hissing. The only disappointment here is the lack of supplemental materials, which would have added context and interest to this marvellous piece of macabre. All we have are two Trailers.

Review by William Simmons