The Scare Salon

Whenever I hear about a movie that had a substantial amount of hype building up around it after its debut at a genre film festival, I tend to try to push the film up in my viewing rotation so I can see what all the fuss was about. So after I heard that the film A Wounded Fawn was not only the talk of the 2022 Tribeca Festival, but also earned a 96% critic score on Rotten Tomatoes, and was nominated for a Fangoria Chainsaw Award under the Best Streaming Premiere Movie category (it’s streaming on Shudder, in this case), I knew I had to see it, especially after I read that it was something of a surrealistic throwback to the grindhouse films of the 1970s, but intermingled with an arthouse flair, a combination that immediately set my horror nerd senses a-tingling. I was further intrigued because it was written and directed by Travis Stevens, who is also behind two other films I really liked (2019’s Girl on the Third Floor and 2021’s Jakob’s Wife, both of which I’ve reviewed elsewhere), and who has something of a style aesthetic that I really dig.

A Wounded Fawn is set in the present day, but as it was shot on actual film (!!!) and utilizes the bright red, tempera-paint blood seen in the giallo movies of the 60s and 70s, the film gives off a pleasingly sinister, retro vibe that seems perfectly authentic and not at all like a half-assed attempt to replicate the look and feel of decades past.

At the begining of the story, we’re at an auction house, where a heated bidding war ensues over a small, Hellenistic-era sculpture called The Wrath of the Erinyes, which depicts the three vengeful Furies of Greek mythology getting ready to lay down some legendary whoop-ass on a cowering man. The three terrifying figures⁠—Alecto, Megaera, and Tisiphone⁠—are chthonic deities whose sole purpose is to take vengeance upon villainous men. This piece not only serves as an important plot point, but also a thematic touchstone as the narrative progresses.

The sculpture is ultimately won by a woman named Kate (Malin Barr), who purchases it for a cool $150,000 for her client. She takes it home to her swanky, modern house, but not long after she changes into something more comfortable and relaxes alone with a glass of champagne, her doorbell rings. She warily answers it, only to find one of her fellow auction attendees, Bruce (Josh Ruben, who I recognized from Scare Me) standing outside. Apologizing for the intrusion and staying a respectful distance away from her front door, Bruce explains that his own client absolutely must have the sculpture, and is willing to offer twice what Kate paid for it, plus an additional $25,000 fee for Kate on top of it. After a bit of negotiation, Kate lets the man inside while she calls her client to ask if they’d be amenable to the terms.

Unfortunately for Kate, though, Bruce is not who he purports to be, which becomes very clear as he begins to hallucinate a lurid red light appearing in Kate’s hallway, from which emerges a man-sized owl creature. This striking visual, we learn as the movie goes on, is ostensibly a representation of the evil that lurks inside Bruce.

Shortly afterward, we switch gears a bit and begin to follow Meredith (Sarah Lind), a young museum docent who has recently freed herself from a three-year abusive relationship. During a discussion with her friends, we learn that Meredith has met a new man who she thinks might be a serious prospect; apparently the pair have been out on a few dates, but this weekend, he’s invited her to spend a couple of days at his remote cabin in the woods, with the implication that this will be the first time they have sex.

Meredith’s girlfriends are excited for her, and Meredith herself seems hopeful and in a good place emotionally, a result of some recent therapy sessions. But when this new mystery man comes to pick Meredith up for their trip, it turns out to be Bruce, who the audience already realizes is a very, VERY bad man.

During the drive to the cabin, Bruce seems friendly and normal enough, but a few little behavioral quirks put Meredith on her guard, such as Bruce flatly refusing to stop at a roadside stand so Meredith can buy some candy and use the bathroom. He’s not overtly shitty about it, but it’s clear he wants to remain in control of the situation, which makes Meredith increasingly apprehensive.

When they arrive at the house, Meredith is further disquieted by how isolated it is, though she has to admit the interior of it is cozy, tastefully decorated, and peppered with beautiful art. Of particular interest in this regard is the statue on the coffee table, which of course is The Wrath of the Erinyes. Meredith remembers the piece quite well, because it came through her museum to establish provenance some months before it was sold at auction, and she’s surprised that Bruce is in possession of it, considering how much it sold for. He claims it’s simply a very good reproduction, but given her expertise, she doesn’t quite buy that, and her suspicions are thus raised a little further.

Over the course of the evening, Bruce seemingly plays the perfect host, but Meredith can’t help but feel on edge, especially after she hears a phantom woman’s voice telling her to leave, and sees flashes of what appears to be a woman creeping around in the dark woods. Bruce’s temper slowly begins to assert itself as Meredith’s nervousness grows, and he basically tells her straight up that she’s imagining all of these so-called paranormal manifestations.

Finally, a combination of seemingly supernatural activity and Bruce’s escalating douchebaggery culminate in Meredith insisting that Bruce either drive her back home or she’s going to call an Uber, because she is one-hundred percent not comfortable staying in this middle-of-nowhere cabin with this questionable motherfucker. He’s obviously furious, but calmly agrees to take her back to the city.

However, while she’s packing up her things, she gets a call from one of her girlfriends. See, she sent her friend, who also works at the museum, a picture of the sculpture on the table, and the friend informs her that not only was that sculpture stolen, but the woman who bought it at the auction has been missing since the purchase.

Now even more certain she’s in terrible danger, Meredith tries to put on a neutral face for Bruce so he won’t know what she’s found out, but he’s not stupid and is able to get the jump on her. Up to this stage in the movie, the story has played out very much like a standard thriller with a few surrealistic flourishes, but after this point, it goes off in a much wilder, more nightmarish direction that I don’t really want to spoil, as the way the narrative unfolded was rather unexpected and produced some absolutely captivating imagery, liberally sprinkled with garish sprays of gore.

Like many of these types of arthouse horror films, A Wounded Fawn is not for everyone, and some will find it too out there, too pretentious, or too baffling to really enjoy fully. Its third act is fairly bonkers and only really makes sense within a Greek mythology framework, so if you’re not down with bizarre images and symbolism based around art history, then you’re going to have a bad time. But I have to say that movies like this are right up my alley, so I absolutely loved the audacity of the thing, the way it took a straightforward cat-and-mouse premise and piled layers of operatic visuals and allegorical fantasias on top of it.

At its heart, the film is a simple revenge story, but the style here is really what elevates it, and the look of A Wounded Fawn is absolutely one of the best things about it. The performances are also top-notch, particularly the two main leads, whose fraught interactions are a source of almost unbearable tension. If you like your horror arty and ballsy and aren’t afraid to embrace the mythic aspects, then the movie might tickle your fancy, so head on over to Shudder and check it out if you’re so inclined.

Until next time, keep it creepy, my friends.