The Origin of Evil Featured, Reviews Film Threat
RIGHT IN THEATER! I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: leave it to the French to show the rest of the film world how it’s done. Without a trace of arrogance, overt moralizing, unnecessary stylisticism, sentimentality or stereotype, filmmaker Sébastien Marnier creates a compelling and deeply involving mystery thriller about The Origin of Evil itself. Worse yet, Marnier and his formidable cast make it look completely simple. Hysterically dark, intelligent and suspenseful, The Origin of Evil is one of this year’s (admittedly lackluster) best films so far. Revealing the film’s plot would spoil many of its well-deserved surprises, so I’ll try to summarize it as briefly as possible. An aging, antisemitic, extremely wealthy playboy is on the cusp of death. He’s surrounded by scheming ladies: his daughter, his wife, his granddaughter, his maid. They all seem to await his death with bated breath. One day, a middle-aged woman arrives at his impressive mansion by the sea, claiming to be the patriarch’s long-lost daughter. Shocking revelations ensue.
Marnier uses striking contrasts: the film is both cold (monochromatic color palette) and sensual (deeply erotic tones); at once funny (its distortion of the upper class) as well as sad and startling (its palpable dread). There are no “good guys” in Marnier’s world. The characters are trapped in their own stereotypes and pitiful “ambitions”, ignorant of basic human things – but they are paradoxically watchable, having Perhaps because we all see, shamefully, a part of ourselves in these people. Deeply psychological, The Origin of Evil is above all an extremely entertaining horror film that will keep you guessing. Marnier eliminates embellishments, except for two: he uses multiple split screens, where seeing multiple reactions simultaneously adds a lot to the plot, and he changes the aspect ratio in a key scene near the end of the film. Some of the mysteries in the plot may remain unanswered, which is okay because life is complicated and not all secrets need to be revealed.
The cast is uniformly splendid: Doria Tillier was born to play the brittle, classy, traumatized George; Dominique Blanc steals scenes as the wry Louise; Suzanne Clément perhaps comes closest to portraying real human empathy as a crucial character– but it’s Jacques Weber as the multifaceted patriarch Serge and Laure Calamy – as our “can’t take your eyes off her” lead – that will hold you most rapt and leave the most lasting impression. Marnier reminds us of human evil, how easily it can grow and spread, and how deep down, we are just Venus flytraps – a memorable succinct image in the movie – waiting to attack our next distraught victim. It dissects class differences, our fear of death, our crazy obsession with money, oppressed men and even powerful women (although one could argue argue that it’s actually a feminist ode to the latter). Evoking many eclectic influences – from HBO’s Succession to The Talented Mr. Ripley, Knives Out and the films of French director Claude Chabrol, the filmmaker also goes back to the formal origins of it all, inspired by Shakespeare’s King Lear. The result is a feast for the eyes and mind, produced with a nonchalance that would make even the most seasoned filmmaker jealous.