To say that The Devil’s Bath is oppressive, violent, and scathing would be, besides being true, almost redundant. Of course the newest film from Severin Fiala and Veronika Franz, best known for bringing us the sweet childhood fable Goodnight Mommy and the classic Christmas tale, The Lodge, is going to fuck you all the way up. Franz and Fiala’s films will probably never attain wild success or even become cult classics because, and I don’t think my experience is particularly unique here, once I watch one, I never want to see it again. They are important and necessary additions to the horror pantheon, but I’d rather see copies of Goodnight Mommy buried in a pit somewhere than risk watching one again on cable or in a 4K steelbook release. Once is plenty.
But here they are again, back on their usual grind with their meanest project yet. Based on court documents and historical accounts of the true story of a rural Austrian woman named Agnes in 1750, The Devil’s Bath brings a stomach-turning authenticity to Fiala and Franz’s work for the first time. Used to be, you could find some measure of cold comfort in the pair’s grim storytelling with the assurance that it was firmly set in a fictional world. Not this time. But despite being true, the story of The Devil’s Bath remains true to the spirit of Fiala and Franz’s prior works by not fully explaining what you’re meant to take from them. Lots of fucked up ideas and imagery, sure, but beyond that it’s up to you. At least you can assure and possibly prepare yourself for the inevitability of a really, really bad time.
Fiala and Franz, always the cheery pair, open the film with a baby being dashed over a waterfall. If you’re after gore or violence and don’t mind when a child bears the brunt this will certainly do the job, you absolute sicko, and it sets the mercilessly bleak tone as we embark on a deep exploration of our protagonist’s motives for the meat, so to speak, of the film. Agnes (Anja Plaschg) is a young woman in a deeply religious, close-knit community in 1750’s Austria. Life is good, and we see her communing with nature in preparation for her wedding day. A small but lovely celebration ensues, portending good fortune for the happy couple. But there’s definitely something off, and the severed human finger that Agnes receives as a wedding gift to bring luck to the union and a future pregnancy is a sign of something entirely darker. To say nothing of the jarring ritual sacrifice of a chicken as part of the ceremony, presented with little left to the imagination.
We soon find Agnes trapped in the rituals and routines of marriage. Domestic life for her doesn’t match up with her hopes, as her husband Wolf (David Scheig)  is also shackled to routine and responsibility. He’s far from abusive, but perhaps the love – too pure for Agnes’ tastes which hints at a latent queer prolivity – he shows for his wife is a trigger for her depression, a disease that was neither defined nor substantially treatable in that era. After an extended period of putting up with boredom, her husband’s disinterest, and then the crushing realization of the rote emptiness and pointlessness of the life she’s signed onto, Agnes is driven to suicide. But knowing that her deeply-ingrained Catholic faith explicitly forbids it, she must find another method. This alternative ends up being a loophole in the rule against suicide, and the employment of what historian Kathy Stuart coins as ‘suicide by proxy’. Since the penalty for murder in the community is execution and a priest absolves the accused before their final punishment, this is the only self-determining way to die and still make it to those big pearly ones.Â
This is a film that hinges upon the viewer’s sympathy for Agnes’ plight, and the walls-closing-in-ness of her situation that precludes any alternative to the most horrific act imaginable. Plaschg is the unquestionable MVP of The Devil’s Bath, putting in a heartbreakingly authentic performance as Agnes and also, somehow, finding the spare time and leveraging her immense talent to compose the film’s score as well (the actor’s musical project is called Soap&Skin). For their part, Franz and Fiala take the greatest pains yet to develop the oppressive atmosphere in and around the desperate woman’s life and circumstances, and between the baby murder, the severed finger as wedding present, and a scene that shows exactly what’s in store for Agnes should her plan come to fruition, there’s a strong sense of crushing inevitability to it all. The film is, ahem, bathed in grainy greys and muted blues and, despite much of it taking place outdoors, there’s a definite atmosphere of a world closing in around Agnes.
There is no actual Devil present in The Devil’s Bath, at least not onscreen. In fact, if there’s a culprit for Agnes’s actions and her idea that committing the most monstrous of crimes is the only way to avoid an afterlife at the foot of the Devil himself, it’s the constricting rules of the Catholic faith. But if you believe in a Devil, a shadowy presence driving people to the most unspeakable acts and the darkest reaches of their capabilities through desperation, it’s there, lurking in every moment of The Devil’s Bath.
The Devil’s Bath is now playing on Shudder.
