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The Dreadful, marketed as “An Enchanted Horror,” carries a gloomy, forlorn vibe. Natasha Kermani channels Shin Buddhist parables and England’s 15th-century War of the Roses for an esoteric brand of folkloric horror. It’s a hushed blend of black knights and gothic angst, contained to an isolated cove. The reunion of Game of Thrones favorites Kit Harington and Sophie Turner for Kermani’s dour horror-romance is noteworthy—alas, The Dreadful is not.
Turner stars as Anne, a lonesome widow living with her religious mother-in-law, Morwen (Marcia Gay Harden). Anne’s husband, Seamus (Laurence O’Fuarain), was slain by thieves while on a fishing expedition. She learns this tragic news from Jago (Kit Harington), who Morwen does not trust, chastising his jealous nature. With Seamus gone, Anne wrestles with feelings of guilt while trying to move on, under scrutiny from Morwen. Then, an armor-clad visitor comes to the area—and with it, the stench of death.
Kermani’s Dark Ages take on 1964’s Onibaba (literal translation: “demon hag”) is largely a three-hander between Turner, Harington, and Harden. It’s nestled in a woodland pocket where the behaviors of three individuals distill themes of womanhood and survival to simple definitions. Anne doesn’t want to wither away in Seamus’ name; Morwen takes matriarchal duties to unholy and wicked degrees. Jago sees an opening to act on a childhood crush; Anne finds herself stuck between chasing happiness and wallowing in sadness. There’s a rich, pungent odor of malevolence, or at the least dishonor in the air, as tension lives and dies by the weight of performances in the smallest of moments.
For better and worse, The Dreadful is a contemplative, soft-spoken film. Its fairy-tale aspects are akin to The Green Knight meets Hagazussa, while the horrors are reserved for nightmares about Medieval demons on horseback, protected by tar-colored steel. Mood hangs like soggy weeping willow branches, drooping under the grim weight of feudal hardships, and a woman’s place in society being tethered to patriarchal reins. Kermani has plenty to say through Anne’s arc, as she fights for autonomy in a world of herded sheep—but it’s too familiar for such a drab presentation. Julia Swain’s cinematography might be gorgeous, capturing the whimsy of forest locales between grim impositions, but the film and Jamal Green’s score play like a lullaby, with thrills and chills slipping away.
What’s frustrating is that Kermani’s technique is accomplished, especially in the film’s intimate framing and gorgeous pictures, but the storytelling becomes tedious. There’s an anecdotal quality to the film’s language, but an absence of emotional movement. There’s nothing hidden about The Dreadful’s narrative, which is more frustrating given the film’s trail-off of an ending. There’s hardly a rise to any occasion, as scenes float with an airiness that escapes the filmmaker’s reach. Clearly, Kermani is a force when it comes to the nitty-gritty—sounds, sights, etcetera—but none of that excuses the feeling that The Dreadful is in desperate need of a grounding anchor.
From the cast, expectations are fulfilled. Turner sheds tears but also tries to evolve as a woman shackled to stigmas. Harington is your standard steamy love interest, although his arc doesn’t muster any suspense. Then there’s Harden, in a witchy-ish zealot turn with blood on her hands that suits an actor unafraid to play antagonists. The problem isn’t their period-based pouting or overt motivations, but the film’s inability to savor the haunting silences. Everything’s too muted, despite the raw and unrighteous messages at play.
The Dreadful isn’t a wholly self-fulfilling prophecy. Kermani is an exciting filmmaker to track because even something that might not strike your wavelength still has purpose and proficiency. Those with patience for grim tales about 15th-century hardships that reflect modern feminist relevance will find plenty to indulge. Others, like myself, may miss falling in line with the aforementioned vibes. Divisive, thy name is The Dreadful.
Movie Score: 2.5/5
