Dir. Fabrice Du Welz, 2005, Belgium, 90 mins
Cast: Laurent Lucas, Jackie Berroyer, Philippe Nahon
Backwoods horror has become a peculiarly successful sub-genre all of its own. From the rednecks of Deliverance to the cannibal family of Texas Chainsaw Massacre, it has presented a rich history of terrors awaiting the unsuspecting city boy, pandering as it does to urban cinephiles’ ingrained phobia of wide open spaces and the yokels, bumpkins and, in the case of this rare European variant on the theme, cow-abusers (bovosexuals?) that populate them.
For its first 40 minutes at least, Fabrice Du Welz’s contribution to the genre breathes fresh air into its tired conventions. True, we get the classic breakdown in a rainy forest late at night with the hapless driver being led by an apparent madman to a creepy inn. But then the innkeeper leads him to a tidy, clean room and abruptly bids him good night. No hint of rural menace whatsoever. Indeed, as the following day dawns, it seems our hero, Marc Stevens, has landed in an idyllic retreat with a jovial landlord who also happens to be a mechanic and ex-comedian.
This is where the film hits its stride. Jackie Berroyer, in a brilliant performance as Marc’s host, Bartel, dominates every one of his scenes, playing with our preconceptions by being both distant and nervously amusing. Du Welz’s background in TV comedy comes to the fore here, as he introduces a disconcerting light-heartedness that sets the audience up for a blackly comic pay-off. And Benoit Debie’s clever cinematography further unsettles the viewer by moving between the bright, attractive landscape outside and the murky, low-lit interiors of the hotel.
But – of course – all is not as it seems. The innkeeper’s bonhomie hides an obsession with his missing wife and soon Marc is forced to take her place. It’s a role the victim is powerless to throw off when the other villagers come to share Bartel’s delusion. As the situation spirals out of control, The Ordeal reveals itself as an allegorical portrait of a world without women in which their absence has reduced men to little more than wild beasts. Furthermore, there’s a suggestion that the whole scenario could be the nightmare of Marc himself, a singer and entertainer at rest homes who casually dismisses the advances of his elderly admirers. Is his assumption of the role of vulnerable female in a male domain a Kafkaesque projection of guilt, to atone for rejecting them?
And if you were wondering about that title (Calvaire/Calvary), don’t worry – the Christ imagery is about to kick in with a vengeance. In fact, the film is nothing so much as a perverse Christmas story in which an innocent reaches the inn one night only to find himself reborn as the Ideal Woman – Gloria – for every man in town. The fact that every character also puts on a performance at some point only underlines the sense of roles being cast in a twisted Nativity play. And that’s not all – the ordeal of the title puts one in mind of the 40 days and 40 nights spent in the wilderness and there’s a gory crucifixion to endure before the end credits roll. Du Welz is certainly ambitious – Calvaire feels like the whole Gospel in one go.
Sadly, what also kicks in is the protracted, gratuitously nasty violence and the barrage of references to films like Straw Dogs and particularly Texas Chainsaw, from which Du Welz not only lifts one whole scene but even specific shots. The film declines into a messy bloodfest without the integrity to fully explore its many themes and therefore make good on its early promise of overturning genre expectations. Ultimately, the audience is left feeling they’ve gone through a cinematic ordeal – and with no return…
Michael Bartlett
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