Nights of Horror: The Devil's Bath (2024)
Des Teufels Bad a.k.a. The Devil’s Bath (Austria, 2024)
The Devil’s Bath is probably one of the most beautiful period films I’ve seen in the past decade. Written and directed by Veronika Franz and Severin Fiala (the duo behind Goodnight Mommy), it is a horrific slice of life for women in 18th century Upper Austria. This doesn’t necessarily mean it is a horror film, and it isn’t necessarily marketed as one. But it is nonetheless horrific. The opening sequence, of a screaming baby unceremoniously dropped off the edge of a waterfall by an unemotional woman whose executed corpse makes several appearances throughout the rest of the film, is horrific.
The rest of the film follows our protagonist, Agnes, from her wedding to a well-meaning (but narrowminded) Wolf into the drudgery of a life of hard labor to which she’s far too sensitive and innocent to adapt. Her sexually disinterested husband being the least of her troubles, his overbearing mother cannot stay out of the picture long enough for Agnes to find her own style of managing a household. She’s blamed for everything that goes wrong, she’s not pregnant yet, she sleeps too long, she’s physically incapable of performing the hard labor expected of her, she can’t cook anything the way Wolf likes it (according to Mother), she’s not pregnant yet, she prays too much, she gets up too early, she’s an embarrassment, a living sin, and a burden.
Maybe if she could get pregnant, she could be worth something around here. Of course, her equally depressed gay husband would have to fuck her first, but he’s mourning his lover, who committed suicide soon after the wedding and has been left in the field to rot, denied a burial by the church. Agnes visits him sometimes. She also visits the headless woman on the scaffold, still there, slowly being picked to pieces by animals and luck-seekers. The more she attempts to assimilate into the life she’s been handed, the more she stands out, the more her despair goes unnoticed, the more harrowing her unraveling, which we witness in scenes that might overstay their welcome if they weren’t so visually stunning.
This film has way too much respect for its characters to descend into full-gonzo madness. Instead, it is an examination of depression and emotional isolation, bound by the fear of God and the freedom that only absolution can grant. In another movie, they may set this up earlier, but this film waits until the end to explain.
In 2017, Ira Glass interviews historian Kathy Stuart for an episode of This American Life about the phenomenon of suicide by proxy that swept across 17th and 18th century Europe. People who wanted to kill themselves would often resort to murder, so they could be executed via an ecclesiastical loophole: After confessing their crime to a priest, cleansed of sin, they hoped to enter heaven and thus avoid the eternal damnation that awaited suicides. The majority of these people were women, and the majority of their victims were children. The way they saw it, it was a win-win. Not only would the confessed killer gain absolution and go to heaven, but the victim, being an innocent child, would go to Heaven as well.
As I said before, I don’t think this is necessarily a horror film, despite its subject matter crawling under my skin and hurting my feelings. It is horrifying, haunting, and brutal. I cried when it was over. I don’t know if I’d recommend it to horror fans who are seeking action or violence or fun in any way. This is something to be survived, not enjoyed. But if you want a mood piece to accompany The VVitch in terms of realism and tone, seek out The Devil’s Bath.
Available on Shudder.