Rape revenge has always been a controversial and contentious genre. Helmed primarily by male filmmakers who depict rape and assault with the same disgusting voyeurism as they depict the enraged, violent killing sprees their main character goes on after, the genre often feels like an empty excuse for feminist horror, which requires female trauma before the women are granted the opportunity to be the protagonists in their own films. 

Historically, any and all rape revenge films require a woman enduring assault before she is allowed to feel empowered or strong, and they often indulge in needlessly graphic depictions for the sake of provocation. The form of the genre is so fixed and linear, shoving narratives of assault and trauma as related to womanhood in a box. But with Revenge, director Coralie Fargeat is not interested in making a rape revenge film that caters to the misogynistic norms of the genre. Revenge is about Jen (Matilda Lutz) and her fight for survival after being left for dead following a sexual assault. Her narrative is not merely about the assault, but Jen’s ferocity, her unencumbered will for survival, her need to fight; the film is indeed bloody and violent, but the moments of trauma are reserved for the predatory, evil men that Jen hunts down on her quest for the titular revenge. 

The inherent voyeuristic misogyny may be inevitable to the fabric of the genre, but Fargeat’s stunning vision offers an enticing counterpoint. She rejects the requirement of seeing the actual assault, but still depicts all the gore and violence that follows the rapist and his accomplices. By obscuring the gaze and expectation of the viewer, she confronts the history of the genre, and begins to offer a different future for feminist horror by way of French extremity. Going beyond the “good for her” euphemism bestowed upon this film, and many others like it, Fargeat consistently questions the notions of the genre and seeks to forge something even stronger; just as Jen’s agency goes beyond the assault, her vengeful quest examines something different than merely catharsis. Fargeat also plays on and distorts male fantasy throughout Jen’s journey. In order to conceal a wound, she heats up a piece of a discarded beer can and brands the logo on her skin, a triumphant eagle just above her hip. Her appearance commands the screen, but Fargeat encourages us to question what our gaze towards her means. 

It makes perfect sense that David Lynch would be an essential inspiration for Fargeat, not only in the Lost Highway-like shots in The Substance, but in the passionate empathy that transcends from the director’s chair to the screen. I bring him up not only because he is still on my mind, and on every film lover’s mind, in the wake of his passing, but because Fargeat is a rare filmmaker in her ability to maintain Lynch as an inspiration without veering into pastiche or mimicry. Rather, she has her own distinct style as a horror filmmaker (even after two features!), bringing a fresh sense of commentary and a penchant for climaxes that feature lots and lots of blood, along with an essential awareness of the history of the genre and themes she explores in order to probe them further. 

Revenge is a must-watch for body horror and slasher fans – especially in a theater, where each grotesque kill is made more impressive on a big screen. Even in her debut feature, Fargeat exhibits such a talent for genre filmmaking that remains as creatively violent as it is essential and feminist; it should come as no surprise that her sophomore film was a smash-hit. Revenge is an unrelentingly violent slasher that manages to carry meaning threaded throughout its style. With a delicious New French extremity background and an incisive directorial gaze, Fargeat is, simply put, the future of horror.

Revenge
2017
dir. Coralie Fargeat
108 min.

Screens Friday, 1/24, 11:59pm @ Coolidge Corner Theatre
Part of the Coolidge’s month-long tribute to New French Extremity