Berlinale Film #8

Could've been so much more.

From its first to its last frame, the film is encapsulated in a bleak melancholy that never eases up but seeps into every minute of its rather lengthy runtime. This poses the apparent challenge of trying to sustain tension through a narrative that doesn’t offer much variation in its dynamics. Franz and Fiala’s choice to maintain this particular tone could be viewed as a representation of the melancholy within the character’s crumbling inner world, but the end result is a thinning accumulation of tension that lurks for too long until it dissipates. The eerie symbolic imagery is not effective enough to counterbalance such a creative decision that’s already so difficult to carry out.

The saving grace of the film is Anja Plaschg’s anchoring but devastating performance that only became stronger with every next beat, culminating in a spine-chilling confession scene near the closing of her character's arc.

It’s not just a matter of “getting it." Yes, The Devil's Bath is clear in its intention to not discredit the historical context of Agnes’ tragic arc and the suffering of all the women that have paved the path for her, but the issues of the film lie in its incompleteness as a medium and its weakness as a conductor. Instead of succeeding in its attempts to convey a strong narrative about religious oppression, it ends up boring the viewer by emptily roaming around its potential for too long.