THE ABANDONED

Review by Pat LeCat

PROMENONS NOUS DANS LES BOIS aka Deep In The Woods 2001   Artisian Entertainment Rating: USA: R

		Review by Pat LeCat
SHOULD YOU? TIP JAR PROMENONS NOUS DANS LES BOIS aka Deep In The Woods - 2001 Artisian Entertainment Rating: USA: R

Let’s take a stroll in the woods
While the wolf isn’t around
For if he was he would eat us up…

Every French kid knows this lullaby, which gave some of them their first taste of transgression. Aside from (or because of) the obvious sexual implications, it is also the perfect soundtrack for a smart retelling of the “Little Red Riding Hood” tale, which is what this movie aims for.

French horror fans had their hopes stirred when it was announced that a promising young filmmaker had completed “the first French slasher movie of the post Scream generation.” And indeed, the first full length feature of 27 years old Lionel Delplanque has everything one could hope for: assured directing, a talented cast, beautiful visuals, a classic but efficient soundtrack, enthralling atmosphere . . . everything but a decent script.

Well this never stopped Dario Argento, whom Delplanque professes to be a great fan of. Unfortunately this reviewer still clings to the old fashioned notion that form, no matter how brilliant, can’t be substituted for content.

The tale itself is mostly used for decorum, as in the promising prologue where the husky voice of Marie Trintignant is heard reading it behind her son’s bedroom door. A scene that ends gruesomely though not that unpredictably for the genre.

Cut to a troupe of five comedians (good-looking Matthieu, beautiful Mathilde, sexy Wilfried and so on…) driving towards a castle in the country. This sequence alone should tip off the viewer to what the movie really is : an EVIL DEAD “homage” (read: imitation) with a bigger budget. Unfortunately the most striking connection to the Sam Raimi shot-on-a-shoestring but inventive horrorfest is their static plot development.

The actors have been invited by Count Axel de Fersen (an impressive Francois Berleand) to perform “Little Red Riding Hood” at the birthday party of his orphan grandson. “Party” is a generous appellation for what turns out to be a dinner where the comedians are the only guests and the main dish is notoriously loathed by the feted child.

Tension is increased by the sexual dynamics around the table. Though lesbian lovers Sophie and Jeanne are accepted without any fuss (this is France, not Alabama. [Whut-choo tawkin' 'bout boy? Alabamian men jest LURV LUV them dang ol' lezza'beans! Hot damn! WOO! Hey, Molly! Gwan n' tut'cher there! Gaw-Damn! Roll Tide! -feo]), Sophie has to fight off the amorous solicitude of the butler (a suitably creepy Denis Lavant), while her mute girlfriend is resolutely looking the other way. Meanwhile their host is making goggle eyes at Wilfried, who himself has a knack for unbalancing his colleagues’ sexual orientation.

So far so good. An interesting if somewhat classic premise. Hints of steamy things to come. Hints of things much gorier (Prokofiev’s “Peter and the Wolf” is heard early on.) Mystery. Atmosphere. Add a serial killer masquerading as a wolf, enough sick-but-slick gore and a few stuffed animals (no, not the cast and yes, we got the homage.) It looks all the more a waste when the ingredients go stale for lack of a recipe.

Though the movie takes in its form the opposite approach to US teenage slashers, its contents are pure grade Z material, and the editing doesn’t do much to help. A scene, which explained the comedians’ decision to go off into the woods (to rescue a character) was cut, according to Delplanque “in order to focus on the transgression issue.” The cut mostly serves to insult the audience. As for the transgression, it looks as if the characters had come across one of those on-line “horror movie survival guides” and just had to rebel against it (“if a serial killer is out loose, barricading yourself in is an acceptable option.”) Of course they get lost, which is a cue for another of those tired steadycam shots springing from behind a character (Aargh… it’s you!! Aargh… it’s the cat! Aargh…it’s - yawn - the killer.)

Meanwhile Wilfried and Jeanne make love against what appears to be the only tree thick enough to support them in the forest. The scene seems to have absolutely no reason to be, character or plot wise, except as an excuse to show off Wilfried’s ass. Since it’s quite a nice one we’ll accept the excuse, at least this time.

No in depth reading of the fairy tale is ever offered, and hardly any second degree. Horror cliches are tied together in a rather skilled fashion but without any apparent distance a la SCREAM. There are however a few shots at Cohen brothers humor. The best gag has the survivors bursting in a suspect’s room and ignoring a whole panel of murder victims portraits on the other side of the door.

More macabre humor is brought on by Denis Lavant as the gamekeeper-cum-butler who greets the troupe with a : “If you’ll excuse me, I have a few more traps to set.” Lavant, ex enfant terrible of post new wave French indie movies (yes, there is such a thing - more or less), brings a creepy intensity to each part he plays, from Romeo to Neron (he performed both on stage.) The casting underlines the filmmaker’s desire to give horror some credibility: Lavant and Trintignant are household names in France, Berleand a respected character actor, and Clotilde Coureau looks set to be the rising star of the year. To U.S. viewers, this would amount to having Jude Law, Christina Ricci and Gary Oldman in a Friday the 13th sequel. At the very least, it would be more fun than anything in “The Scarlet Letter.”

After 45 minutes, what remains of a plot drags on, filled with increasingly gratuitous shots, increasingly gratuitous nudity (but with such a good looking cast, we’re not complaining) and increasingly gratuitous gimmicks such as the lights suddenly going out (twice). The outcome is so obvious that you’re almost bluffed into thinking it has to be something else. For all its slick look, the end result looks like a 12 years old’s idea of what horror movies are about.

This despite an overt ambition to take the film to a higher level. A deliberate low-key approach makes the performances at once realistic and surreal: lines are often half whispered, screams are silent. Bathed in moody lightning, the cast moves (almost dances) sensually to the sound of a classic but efficient score. The resulting failure makes is all the more galling. If so many talented people didn’t realize a script was missing, this can only means one thing: they killed the writer and the whole movie is a front to cover it up. Now come to think of it, that’s a scarier thought than anything you’ll come across in these woods.

Two Shriek Girls

This review copyright 2002 E.C.McMullen Jr.

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