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martyrs_tp01

Director: Pascal Laugier
Year: 2008
Country: France

I’ve been doing a bit of research for a chapter in the book I will probably never write on the “New Wave of French Horror,” the foreign bastard cousin of torture porn that seems to have taken the world of horror by storm. Ostensibly a subset of the “New French Extremity” label, a term coined by Artforum critic James Quandt to describe a collection of transgressive films by French directors over roughly the past ten years or so, these films are few in number yet have managed to become ingrained in the collective thought of die-hard horror fans as being brilliant in nearly every conceivable way. The reviews are often glowing, or rather, what can be considered glowing when compared against the typically vile reviews given to American horror films, and they make their rounds at all the popular films festivals, stateside or otherwise.

In an interview with Pascal Laugier at DVDTimes, the controversial director casts aside the notion that France is experiencing a resurgence of quality films in the horror genre, citing the relative difficulty in getting financing for a horror picture, especially one such as Martyrs.

…What I mean is that even the horror fans, the French ones, they are very condescending about French horror films. It’s still a hell to find the money, a hell to convince people that we are legitimate to make this kind of movie in France. So I know from an American point of view and probably an English one too, there is a kind of new wave of modern horror film, but it’s not true. It’s still hell.

The genre is hardly given credence in France, so the task of proving it’s a credible genre is on the filmmaker. It then is no wonder the few films that do come out of France are widely popular stateside, where the best we can hope for is the remake du jour or another film about zombies. One of these films is the wildly popular Martyrs by the aforementioned Pascal Laugier.

Martyrs fucks your brain into oblivion, dispensing annoying foreplay in favor of an hour and a half long tantric mindfuck. When you’re done you’re exhausted and a little ashamed. It possesses a type of dichotomy, both thematically and stylistically, that makes for a confusing yet ultimately satisfying ride. The film is neatly bisected into two different sub-genres; a bloody, terrifying, and utterly depressing revenge film gives way to a slow crescendo of brutality and utter depravity. The first half of the film centers on Lucie, a young woman who, after being imprisoned for more than a year, escapes her captors and ends up in an orphanage. At first catatonic, she eventually opens up to Anna, the only person at the orphanage to whom she gives any information as to what happened. Lucie, in addition to being haunted by the horrific memories, is tormented and attacked by an unseen creature. Fast forward fifteen years. Lucie has tracked down those she believes to be responsible for her imprisonment all that time ago. Madness ensues. The second half of the film centers on her friend Anna, who unwittingly stumbles across the dungeon that served as Lucie’s home and enters the same world that Lucie fought so hard to destroy.

…what? So I suck at synopses, so sue me.

Martyrs is a brutal thrill ride punctuated by all the elements necessary in constructing an effective horror film. Laugier got all the elements right. The music is composed by French duo Seppuku Paradig and alternates appropriately from bleak to ethereal; the blood flows like wine, though gore is conspicuously absent until the end, allowing the film to avoided the dreaded “torture porn” moniker; the acting is spot on by all, with Morjana Alaoui turning in an impressive performance as the brutalized Anna, carrying the latter half of the film with her transition from emotional to strong to stoic. The movie is truly the sum of its parts, and they all coalesce into near perfection.

Laugier’s attempt at conveying utter brutality succeeds admirably, though not without the minor hiccups that plague the genre. Unlike his contemporary Alexandre Aja, Laugier manages to keep the suspension of disbelief to a minimum, and thus not allowing it to interfere with the overall impact the film has on the viewer. At one point I became fairly convinced that Laugier simply copied small chunks of the script in an effort to make it longer, though the reasoning behind this becomes apparent with the balls-out crazy finale.

Martyrs pushes the boundaries of the genre, delving into situations that vilify it with nary a care.  Laugier embraces the extreme. My only hope now is a cage match to the death between him and Alexandre Aja.