OUT NOW: A Wounded Fawn

Serial killer Bruce (Josh Ruben) has a new victim in his sights: art gallery curator Meredith (Sarah Lind).

However his plans go awry once they are alone at his cabin in the woods.

The place seems to be haunted by another presence - one that is fully aware of Bruce's past depravity, and intent on avenging it...

A surreal, blackly comic horror, A Wounded Fawn is a pleasingly small-scale genre entry that calls back to the horror cinema of the past, with an injection of even more Ancient Greek mythology.

In concept, the film starts out as a thriller about a single woman getting involved with a serial killer. 

Visually, the film is vaguely reminiscent of Panos Cosmatos’ work and Peter Strickland’s In Fabric, in its juxtaposition of a vaguely familiar premise that lurches into something untethered from genre convention, and more concerned with building atmosphere and unnerving the viewer.

We are introduced to Bruce (Josh Ruben) first so the first act is based around the tension of waiting for him to show his true self.

I appreciate the ellipses of jumping from Bruce killing a previous victim to going on a weekend getaway with Meredith, but it made me wonder what was going on with their relationship.

He must be incredibly charming to lower her guard enough that she would go to an isolated location with him.

The film draws out Bruce’s internal mind space so it’s hard to tell how much of his odd behaviour is visible to Meredith, but he is so weird so early in the trip.

 

As they arrive, Meredith starts to experience visions of a mysterious woman telling to leave.

And then these paranormal experiences begin to affect Bruce.

After he attacks Meredith, that is the catalyst for his sins to literally come back to haunt him.

Directed by Travis Stevens, there is a scrappy, handmade quality to its visuals that evokes the fraying nature of the characters’ reality.

Shot on film and utilising a variety of non-digital effects (makeup, costuming, stop-motion animation, superimpositions and even jump cuts), the lack of contemporary aesthetics gives its horrors a visceral, earthy texture that feels both influenced by the artwork present throughout the mise-en-scene, and a tactile reflection of the Furies as creatures from another age.

The decision to go with handmade effects gives these apparitions a disorganised and unpredictable sense of life that CGI would not have.

Based on the quotation that opens the movie I am guessing The Furies’ design is meant to evoke the work of surrealist artist Leonora Carrington. Her work drew on mythology and animal mythology, which feels appropriate. She also dabbled in horror cinema - she was responsible for designing the costumes and sets for the Mexican horror movie Mansion of Madness (1973).

Anchored by naturalistic performances by the leads (which become more unsettling as the film around them becomes overtly theatrical), A Wounded Fawn is an enjoyable genre bender.

The plotting is more streamlined than the visual presentation - I was expecting something more associative and dreamlike, but that foundation does give the villain’s demise a satisfying inevitability.

Arguably, the structure of the movie resembles a classic slasher, with a set up followed by an extended chase sequence. Only in this case, the slasher is getting his ass handed to him by a literal deux ex machina.

The one element of the movie I would like to know more about is the owl figure who haunts Bruce, which he connects with his desire to kill.

In Greek mythology, owls are associated with Athena, the goddess of wisdom. Here, that is not the case since the Furies end up killing the owl figure.

I might be coming back to this one, and I am excited to check out Stevens’ other work.