Those always on the lookout for the next great A24 horror film needn't look further than Rose Glass' first feature, and if she doesn't get the same boosted recognition and opportunities as Ari Aster (after this far-superior film to Hereditary in nearly every way), then there's no hope for gender equality even in the indie sphere. This masterpiece is doing so many things at once that it's hard to describe without seeing for yourself, but I will say (very briefly outside of a spoilerbox, where the bulk of any sensitive writeup must shelter itself) that the film takes a necessary risk in treating spiritually and faith very seriously while also acknowledging the power and reality of subjective experience with equal gravity, which allows the weight bared to trigger behavior in a manner that’s understandable and frightening simultaneously.
Spoiler
Early on, we witness visual touches of lighting hitting the walls as Maud feels God around her while ascending the staircase. This is only the first instance of a series of technical choices that signify this subjective truth for Maud through her perceptions, just as our blueprint for viewing the world becomes colored based on belief and emotion, a psychosomatic exhibition of the soul’s schema. This is Maud’s reality, not because she’s crazy but because one’s reality is always skewed, and a film that approaches her psychology without judgment or ‘other’ing Maud as different than us (her condition is not glaringly only rooted in mental illness, a common default for genre films like this conscientiously avoided here), is a courageous and respectful move. It's also all the more terrifying because Maud’s tendencies for isolation, and the ensuing obsessions and compulsions, broadly mimic many of our own in the western world, and her dangerous delusions (if one reads them as such) when actualized are more extreme versions of what we are all potentially capable of if dealt a different set of cards.
It’s also very specific to the religious, and when Maud explains to one character that this is “life or death,” the open-minded viewer can understand that she is earnest rather than solely delusional. I was reminded of a comment I read years ago on a message board about near-death experiences that quickly turned into a conversation about faith.. One devout Catholic poster explained in the most transparent and self-aware message why they forcibly tried to convert their friends to the point of driving them away. The explanation was something to the extent of “I truly believe that if they don’t accept Jesus Christ as their lord and savior that they will be tortured in hell for eternity. Not just a little while but eternity, and even though it pains me to make people feel uncomfortable and it’s lonely to lose friends, it feels like an impossible obligation to ignore when I really believe -to the point of ‘knowing’ this as 'truth'- that this will be their fate. Truly loving someone is trying to protect them despite the impact it has on me selfishly.” It was much more intricate and humble than that, but even if I can't personally comprehend that point of view, it changed the way I looked at the imposing sectors of devoutly religious, and I think this film empathizes with that perspective using a considerate method that few films bother with, because few filmmakers can access the temperament to extend such an olive branch.
On one level, Maud is unmistakably suffering from mental illness, but the film leaves open the possibility (I'd argue probability) that this could be only partially sourced in the cognitive realm, and trauma-reactive rather than an actual schizophrenic disorder. Much of Maud's psychology is relatable: she suffers an acute psychological crisis, turns to faith, and quickly disposes of it in the film's terrific and surprising second act. Maud reacts based on abandonment, from a sensitivity to not getting what she feels she deserves -but that 'deserve' is just a defensive ruse for rationalizing away the emotional bottom, that she needs belongingness and meaning. This is where the film becomes reminiscent of the exceptional The Blackcoat's Daughter, as Maud seems to be shifting partners to the devil. She resigns her morals and exposes herself as an empty shell of a person, whether having sex with strangers or trying to get in on laughing at a neighboring table’s conversation, so lonely and desperate for purpose, and willing to give herself up to whoever -or whatever- will accept her.
The depressing truth here is that the “meaningful relationships” she seeks cannot occur on her terms, as she tragically realizes when speaking with her replacement nurse. Maud doesn't have the social skills to execute a normalized path to support, and must return to faith as a crutch - however, her subsequent questioning of faith points to a self-awareness and more complex portrait of a woman struggling between authentic faith and mental illness. This could be a real spiritual experience with God (and Satan, holy shit) or merely psychological defense mechanisms. Her two different color eyes as she stares off into the sky near the end feel like a symbol of this bifurcated truth. The fact remains that whether or not God is real or in her imagination, she’s still alone and her loneliness drives her to unbearable pain. In that sense, this is a film much like Perkins' with a sicker twist that's apatheistic: regardless of the nature of God's existence, this woman is fucked. If He is real and speaking with her, or if it's all in her mind and there is no God, either way she's doomed. Furthermore, the devil doesn't accept her to begin with, and the unsettling implication that arguably trumps Perkins' reveal rests with the notion that nothing exists to offer this reprieve, even as just a taste, and God may stand in for the Devil in that film as a cruel, manipulative, and ultimately neglectful parent. Though Glass rejects the tangibility of The Blackcoat's Daughter's reality, and it's all the more ungrounding and psychologically destructive for the choice to stew in conclusive purgatory.
The final image seals this fate in the most cynical and horrifying transition imaginable- because it's not only selling us the power of the mind to recontextualize experience as serene when we're suffering, but demonstrating that part of her is actually experiencing that suffering. At least I take it to mean as much -and perhaps this pre-credits shift is actually emulating her own consciousness as she leaves -or is abandoned by- a state of grace into corporeal horror, or perhaps this is her burning in hell now dead (the black background is admirably obscure as either smoke on the beach or a separate unearthly space)- but that ambiguity of consciousness' potential as subjectively strong could be seen as equally optimistic; though on a purely allegorical level that parting image seems to be emblematic of Maud's tormented soul, screaming below the spiritual and psychological protective layers of barely-fastened resilience. The film even leaves enough room for a reading of an anti-Young Pope version of the struggle of sainthood! And quite honestly, if we're meant to balance two truths- that Maud is delusional and also that her experience is so real to her that it is real and meaningful in the only way that counts- then she is struggling with sainthood, even if that struggle is hers to witness alone.
I’m sure these readings are coming, but I think it’s a mistake to simply pathologize Maud even if her behavior is objectively harmful. The film goes to great lengths to refrain from dehumanizing her dignity and worth and takes an esoteric route that finds itself touching on the familiar tribulations of lonely individualistic cultural trauma in addition to her specific existential circumstances. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not endorsing her ‘way’, but the film is asking us to expand our scopes to see both her worldview and default to our preconceived judgments at once- the latter being unavoidable yet the former sadly intolerable for many rigid audience members. Hopefully viewers will be able to hold these two contradictory views together and meet the film on its singular level of brilliance and confrontation by way of diplomatic provocation.
Lastly, as I alluded to earlier with the question-mark of Satan's presence, this film has the most jarring and upsetting jump scare I've ever had the pleasure/excruciation of experiencing- not only because of its power but because the scene continued relentlessly within this internal logic afterwards with no break from the terror- planting us right into Maud's inability to escape the situation herself. I have a high tolerance for cinematic fear, and have found myself nearly impossible to actually be "scared" in horror movies, but I was visibly shaking for the remainder of the film and several hours later my heart's still racing.
It’s also very specific to the religious, and when Maud explains to one character that this is “life or death,” the open-minded viewer can understand that she is earnest rather than solely delusional. I was reminded of a comment I read years ago on a message board about near-death experiences that quickly turned into a conversation about faith.. One devout Catholic poster explained in the most transparent and self-aware message why they forcibly tried to convert their friends to the point of driving them away. The explanation was something to the extent of “I truly believe that if they don’t accept Jesus Christ as their lord and savior that they will be tortured in hell for eternity. Not just a little while but eternity, and even though it pains me to make people feel uncomfortable and it’s lonely to lose friends, it feels like an impossible obligation to ignore when I really believe -to the point of ‘knowing’ this as 'truth'- that this will be their fate. Truly loving someone is trying to protect them despite the impact it has on me selfishly.” It was much more intricate and humble than that, but even if I can't personally comprehend that point of view, it changed the way I looked at the imposing sectors of devoutly religious, and I think this film empathizes with that perspective using a considerate method that few films bother with, because few filmmakers can access the temperament to extend such an olive branch.
On one level, Maud is unmistakably suffering from mental illness, but the film leaves open the possibility (I'd argue probability) that this could be only partially sourced in the cognitive realm, and trauma-reactive rather than an actual schizophrenic disorder. Much of Maud's psychology is relatable: she suffers an acute psychological crisis, turns to faith, and quickly disposes of it in the film's terrific and surprising second act. Maud reacts based on abandonment, from a sensitivity to not getting what she feels she deserves -but that 'deserve' is just a defensive ruse for rationalizing away the emotional bottom, that she needs belongingness and meaning. This is where the film becomes reminiscent of the exceptional The Blackcoat's Daughter, as Maud seems to be shifting partners to the devil. She resigns her morals and exposes herself as an empty shell of a person, whether having sex with strangers or trying to get in on laughing at a neighboring table’s conversation, so lonely and desperate for purpose, and willing to give herself up to whoever -or whatever- will accept her.
The depressing truth here is that the “meaningful relationships” she seeks cannot occur on her terms, as she tragically realizes when speaking with her replacement nurse. Maud doesn't have the social skills to execute a normalized path to support, and must return to faith as a crutch - however, her subsequent questioning of faith points to a self-awareness and more complex portrait of a woman struggling between authentic faith and mental illness. This could be a real spiritual experience with God (and Satan, holy shit) or merely psychological defense mechanisms. Her two different color eyes as she stares off into the sky near the end feel like a symbol of this bifurcated truth. The fact remains that whether or not God is real or in her imagination, she’s still alone and her loneliness drives her to unbearable pain. In that sense, this is a film much like Perkins' with a sicker twist that's apatheistic: regardless of the nature of God's existence, this woman is fucked. If He is real and speaking with her, or if it's all in her mind and there is no God, either way she's doomed. Furthermore, the devil doesn't accept her to begin with, and the unsettling implication that arguably trumps Perkins' reveal rests with the notion that nothing exists to offer this reprieve, even as just a taste, and God may stand in for the Devil in that film as a cruel, manipulative, and ultimately neglectful parent. Though Glass rejects the tangibility of The Blackcoat's Daughter's reality, and it's all the more ungrounding and psychologically destructive for the choice to stew in conclusive purgatory.
The final image seals this fate in the most cynical and horrifying transition imaginable- because it's not only selling us the power of the mind to recontextualize experience as serene when we're suffering, but demonstrating that part of her is actually experiencing that suffering. At least I take it to mean as much -and perhaps this pre-credits shift is actually emulating her own consciousness as she leaves -or is abandoned by- a state of grace into corporeal horror, or perhaps this is her burning in hell now dead (the black background is admirably obscure as either smoke on the beach or a separate unearthly space)- but that ambiguity of consciousness' potential as subjectively strong could be seen as equally optimistic; though on a purely allegorical level that parting image seems to be emblematic of Maud's tormented soul, screaming below the spiritual and psychological protective layers of barely-fastened resilience. The film even leaves enough room for a reading of an anti-Young Pope version of the struggle of sainthood! And quite honestly, if we're meant to balance two truths- that Maud is delusional and also that her experience is so real to her that it is real and meaningful in the only way that counts- then she is struggling with sainthood, even if that struggle is hers to witness alone.
I’m sure these readings are coming, but I think it’s a mistake to simply pathologize Maud even if her behavior is objectively harmful. The film goes to great lengths to refrain from dehumanizing her dignity and worth and takes an esoteric route that finds itself touching on the familiar tribulations of lonely individualistic cultural trauma in addition to her specific existential circumstances. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not endorsing her ‘way’, but the film is asking us to expand our scopes to see both her worldview and default to our preconceived judgments at once- the latter being unavoidable yet the former sadly intolerable for many rigid audience members. Hopefully viewers will be able to hold these two contradictory views together and meet the film on its singular level of brilliance and confrontation by way of diplomatic provocation.
Lastly, as I alluded to earlier with the question-mark of Satan's presence, this film has the most jarring and upsetting jump scare I've ever had the pleasure/excruciation of experiencing- not only because of its power but because the scene continued relentlessly within this internal logic afterwards with no break from the terror- planting us right into Maud's inability to escape the situation herself. I have a high tolerance for cinematic fear, and have found myself nearly impossible to actually be "scared" in horror movies, but I was visibly shaking for the remainder of the film and several hours later my heart's still racing.