A double-dose of Argentine horror and cuisine was on the menu tonight. Pairing two of Demian Rugna’s spectacular horror films with some Argentine food made for a winning, shuddery night that I heartily recommend.
Rugna quickly became a filmmaker I put on my must-see list a few years ago. I’m resisting the temptation to liken him to better-known directors (Ok, I lied… If you like Ari Aster and early del Toro, you’ll dig him) because he has a style that infuses gorgeous cinematography and meticulous mise en scene with a philosophically nihilistic overview that is mesmerizing.
First course: Provoleta and Terrified (2018). When Rugna released Terrified six years ago, it quickly became a favorite smart, slow-burn cosmic horror film of mine. And believe me, it more than holds up on repeated viewings. A suburban neighborhood in Buenos Aires is beset by a series of horrifying events that seem isolated at first, but eventually coalesce as a trio of paranormal investigators begin to piece things together. They soon discover, as one investigator suggests, that it’s best not to meddle in things not of this world.
Voices emanating from a kitchen sink, inexplicable pounding on the walls, and the proverbial thing under the bed very quickly escalate to a shocking scene of horrific violence in a shower as Rugna deftly balances the slow-burn approach with scenes of startling violence. And that’s just the first fifteen minutes. But beyond the stunning set-pieces, Rugna excels at conjuring a smothering sense of dread that pervades the film and lingers long after.
I’m a sucker for paranormal investigation films, and the oddball trio of investigators here really sells this film. Rugna does little to explain the paranormal/scientific approach the investigators bring with them, and that’s one of the highlights of this film. In this universe, ghosts, interdimensional beings, and the reality that the dead don’t always die are treated with an incredible realism. For here, it seems that this particular suburb lies at a point where the dividing line between different dimensions is particularly thin. And what lies in wait in that other dimension is restless, hungry, and particularly nasty.
In one scene in particular (that I won’t spoil), nothing happens. But it’s the anticipation that something might happen at any moment had me so on edge that I said that if that thing even flinches, I’m diving out the window. Yes, it’s that good. You’ll know it when you see it.
I’m solidly impressed by directors who can evoke an unbearable tension and aura of dread and sustain it for the entire course of the film. Terrified is a film that will leave a stone in your shoe for a while, nagging at you in those quiet moments when you’re alone at night and everything is silent… or mostly silent, for what was that rustling in the walls and why is that faucet dripping? And did that shadow just move, or am I imagining things?
Provoleta (stunningly easy to make a absolutely yummy) added a comfort food element to ease the creeping horror of the movie.
Second Course: Sopa de mariscos and When Evil Lurks (2023). Rugna claimed that this film operates in the same world of Terrified, but it’s not a true sequel. It does certainly feel like a kind of spiritual continuation of the uncanny goings-on in Terrified, though. Much more of a folk horror film involving a case of a “rotten” (a person who has become possessed by an evil spirit) releasing a cascade of horror on the local rural community as well as the neighboring city. The film opens in darkness as two brothers on a farm hear gunshots in the night and, unwisely, set off down a path in the woods to investigate. What they find is a heady mix of paranormal evil and personal/governmental corruption that spirals out of control at a terrifying rate. And, as with Terrified, this film is as smart as it is bone-chilling.
What knocked me out with this film was how fully-realized the mythos surrounding possession and the protocols to avoid a full-on infestation are. I’m impressed by any horror film that doesn’t waste time with characters debating the obvious for most of the film. Here, it turns out there’s even an official government protocol to be followed in case a “rotten” should appear. And in Rugna’s hands it’s all so damned believable.
And again, Rugna pulls no punches in this film. Every time a scene appears where you think, “no, he wouldn’t do that… he couldn’t possibly go there,” he does, and he does in glorious excess. If you feel a sense of safety from established horror conventions (including things that are taboo for filmmakers), then you really need to watch this one. In Rugna's hands, nothing is off the table, no one is safe, and emotional gut-punches will leave you reeling.
The best things I can say about When Evil Lurks are that it works solidly as a terrifying film with excellent performances, some truly stunning set-pieces of horror, and a fascinating folk history. It also works very deeply on the level of subtext, and the nihilistic tone that the film embraces is what lingers long after the final credits. It’s ironic that the possessed are called “rottens” here, as everything in this film is in a rotting state of decay: love, family relationships, the economy, any possibility for hope. Frankly, it’s the most emotionally and spiritually horrifying film I’ve seen yet this year, and that’s saying a lot.
Sopa de mariscos is a favorite of mine, and this paired nicely with a juicy Malbec, although you may not want to eat for a while after viewing this one. You may just want to crawl under the bed and not come out until the sun comes up. If it ever does…heh heh heh.
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