Writer-director Fabrice Blin, and co-writer Jean-Marc Toussaint, have chosen a more difficult path here. Scattered images and audio portend things dark and unnatural in the approximate first third. Furthermore, alongside elements like atmospheric lighting, artful and deliberate cinematography, flavorful and pensive music, and careful art direction, those images and audio invoke a spirit of dark fantasy that rather brings to mind fare like Guillermo del Toro's 'Pan's labyrinth,' or maybe Louis Malle's 'Black moon.' 'The thing behind the door' makes headway only in its own time, and opts for darkness and sinister fun that are distinctly subtler compared to most other genre flicks; gently emphasizing the point, there is far less dialogue here than in other titles, and at that it's decidedly deemphasized or even unimportant. It's an approach that will certainly not appeal to all, and those who prefer abject visceral thrills or instant gratification may be put out. Yet for my part, I rather love it: a slice of horror that is rendered with utmost delicacy and shrewd finesse.
The premise seems simple enough as protagonist Adèle, widowed by World War I, is lured in by black magic to return her husband to her. Yet while we do get discrete violence, disturbing visions, and stunts and effects (both practical and special, and thankfully more the former than the latter), the anticipated genre facets are mostly more measured in their dispensation. Blin aims to haunt and chill more than to shock and thrill, and though we get both varieties, the entertainment this offers is more the growing underhanded insidiousness of, say, Robert Eggers' 'The witch' than the sort of romp represented in George Romero's 'Dawn of the dead.' For those who appreciate such a tack this 2023 picture is a veritable wonderland, and I greatly admire the tremendous care and hard work that went into making this. Truthfully, it's far better than I ever could have anticipated before I sat to watch.
What here is less than exquisite? I repeat myself, yet the cinematography of Davy Bauret and Catherine Briault is stupendously sharp and vivid, visualizing all the minutiae with immense clarity, and it's just as integral as Sébastien de Sainte Croix's fine editing to building the tableau in just the right manner. The filming locations are gorgeous, the sets are quite beautiful, and the props are creative and look fabulous. The basic costume design, hair, and makeup are fetching; the special makeup and practical effects are utterly terrific, and employed sparingly, even the post-production visuals are swell. Raphaël Gesqua's rich ambient score adds delicious dread airs atop what is already an exceptional wicked delight, made so through thoughtful, precisely calculated scene writing to both propel the absorbing, satisfying narrative and serve up the delicious horror sensibilities. Blin's direction is marvelously nuanced and discriminating, ensuring keen dynamics that allow both the quieter nefariousness and the more substantial violence and wilily devilish visions to achieve the maximum desired effect. And in all of this is wrapped up an attention to luscious, vibrant detail that is an absolute treat as a viewer.
Among a very small cast all on hand give commendable performances, though I don't think there's much arguing that Séverine Ferrer stands out far and above the rest as protagonist Adèle. Her acting is excellent, marked with refined range, emotional depth, and physical to solidly command the lead role. Like all else here Ferrer's portrayal is bent toward soft, creeping grimness over robust excitement, and with that unity of purpose is secured a vitality that makes the whole more enjoyable, entrancing, and rewarding than countless other features. In all sincerity, the only criticism I can even drum up is that the movie is just too short, genuinely ending more swiftly than one would assume; in a total runtime of eighty-one minutes, the end credits begin rolling when there are ten left on the digital timer. I admit I was a little taken aback - yet if this is the only drawback that comes to call, then is there really anything wrong here at all? Marked by supreme polish and judicious craftsmanship in every last capacity, 'The thing behind the door' unmistakably falls on the more subdued and understated side of cinema, somewhat blending folk horror with more conventionally constructed supernatural horror. It won't find equal favor with all comers. But all I can say is that I entered with mixed expectations, and I could scarcely be more pleased with how the outstanding skill and intelligence this bears in every regard. As far as I'm concerned this altogether superb and maybe outright perfect, a wonderfully enticing and fruitful film of the type that in recent years feels all too rare. One should be aware of the general slant it adopts, but I'm inclined to give 'The thing behind the door' my very high and hearty recommendation to one and all, and I think it deserves much more recognition!
The premise seems simple enough as protagonist Adèle, widowed by World War I, is lured in by black magic to return her husband to her. Yet while we do get discrete violence, disturbing visions, and stunts and effects (both practical and special, and thankfully more the former than the latter), the anticipated genre facets are mostly more measured in their dispensation. Blin aims to haunt and chill more than to shock and thrill, and though we get both varieties, the entertainment this offers is more the growing underhanded insidiousness of, say, Robert Eggers' 'The witch' than the sort of romp represented in George Romero's 'Dawn of the dead.' For those who appreciate such a tack this 2023 picture is a veritable wonderland, and I greatly admire the tremendous care and hard work that went into making this. Truthfully, it's far better than I ever could have anticipated before I sat to watch.
What here is less than exquisite? I repeat myself, yet the cinematography of Davy Bauret and Catherine Briault is stupendously sharp and vivid, visualizing all the minutiae with immense clarity, and it's just as integral as Sébastien de Sainte Croix's fine editing to building the tableau in just the right manner. The filming locations are gorgeous, the sets are quite beautiful, and the props are creative and look fabulous. The basic costume design, hair, and makeup are fetching; the special makeup and practical effects are utterly terrific, and employed sparingly, even the post-production visuals are swell. Raphaël Gesqua's rich ambient score adds delicious dread airs atop what is already an exceptional wicked delight, made so through thoughtful, precisely calculated scene writing to both propel the absorbing, satisfying narrative and serve up the delicious horror sensibilities. Blin's direction is marvelously nuanced and discriminating, ensuring keen dynamics that allow both the quieter nefariousness and the more substantial violence and wilily devilish visions to achieve the maximum desired effect. And in all of this is wrapped up an attention to luscious, vibrant detail that is an absolute treat as a viewer.
Among a very small cast all on hand give commendable performances, though I don't think there's much arguing that Séverine Ferrer stands out far and above the rest as protagonist Adèle. Her acting is excellent, marked with refined range, emotional depth, and physical to solidly command the lead role. Like all else here Ferrer's portrayal is bent toward soft, creeping grimness over robust excitement, and with that unity of purpose is secured a vitality that makes the whole more enjoyable, entrancing, and rewarding than countless other features. In all sincerity, the only criticism I can even drum up is that the movie is just too short, genuinely ending more swiftly than one would assume; in a total runtime of eighty-one minutes, the end credits begin rolling when there are ten left on the digital timer. I admit I was a little taken aback - yet if this is the only drawback that comes to call, then is there really anything wrong here at all? Marked by supreme polish and judicious craftsmanship in every last capacity, 'The thing behind the door' unmistakably falls on the more subdued and understated side of cinema, somewhat blending folk horror with more conventionally constructed supernatural horror. It won't find equal favor with all comers. But all I can say is that I entered with mixed expectations, and I could scarcely be more pleased with how the outstanding skill and intelligence this bears in every regard. As far as I'm concerned this altogether superb and maybe outright perfect, a wonderfully enticing and fruitful film of the type that in recent years feels all too rare. One should be aware of the general slant it adopts, but I'm inclined to give 'The thing behind the door' my very high and hearty recommendation to one and all, and I think it deserves much more recognition!