Mention of sexual assault ahead.Absolutely brutal. Women as object, victim, and aspiration, but never equal or companion; young men so repressed and confused that rape is the only way they can conceive of sexual contact. A violent son, internally condemned by his horrified parents, even as they protect him for fear of negative consequences for the family, should his crimes become known. Women who express desire, condemned as sluts, while their married fathers are admired for their many sexual partners.What makes The Fear so devastating, though, is the hermetic seal around the world it depicts. There is no one who considers the possibility of a world outside of this decaying farming village, and certainly no one who dares to consider escape. Yes, Anna (Elena Nathanail) managed to go away to school, but she returns home at every opportunity and then marries a local boy — we can see on her face that she knows she's condemned herself to the same, soul-destroying life into which she's watched her stepmother sink without hope of rescue. This small town and its ancient, ruthless rules have claimed them all; escape is impossible.While the film's title most obviously refers to the paranoia of the murderous rapist who becomes convinced the police are on the verge of finding him, it's fundamentally about the experiences of its women: they way they're constantly under threat; their powerlessness; how are forced to depend upon the good will of the men of their community for every day of safety and bodily autonomy.All of this terror and brutality is accompanied by a dissonant score, unsettling closeups, and unconventional editing, the result of which is impossible, exhausting tension, and a film one simply hopes to survive intact.
This film is everything I ran away from in North Dakota. It captures the tension and hidden horrors of rural life. You can feel the sun burn down. Hear the wind whistle through the wheat: much in the same way it does with reeds in “Onibaba.” At any point, it could all go belly-up from the water. I’m really confused why one reviewer considered this “just exploitation.” This is a rural drama. There’s no rape-revenge or hicksploitation. That honestly cheapens the performances, location, cinematography, and music. This film’s score spirals and grates: you can hear the wind blow, old machinery roar, and the calls of animals. The son is not only staged like a classic Hollywood monster - but his eyes dart madly with a perfect nervousness. His performance is so alien and otherworldly. He reminds me of the lead in “Angst.”Even the sex scenes are short: either offering short relief for their characters or acting as a trigger for the son. The daughter and her soon-to-be husband beyond the hay carried a similar energy to the sad sex scene in “Who Saw Her Die?” She briefly distracts herself and feels a sense of stability against the tense crimes of her family.This might be one of the tensest dramas I’ve ever seen. The score is so gripping! Every look and stare becomes an eternity in the hell of rural life. This Greek film transcends its country because it doesn’t really dwell on customs or mythology. And that makes it as truly timeless as a myth. It’s universal. This film captures a patriarchal judgement that still persists. Mondo Macabro killed it this month! There’s a theme of bodily autonomy throughout these releases whether it’s assault and repercussions of this film and “Night of the Executioner,” the loss of independence and self when having a child in “Broken Mirror,” and the self-discovery of “Ravishing Dany.” I’m excited for what comes next for Mondo!
Kostas Manoussakis's horrific drama, The Fear, is a slo-mo slithering nightmare of sexuality and terror that effectively hooks its teeth in you. It quietly unravels amidst an atmosphere of patriarchal oppression and threatening sleaze, as the men and women of this rural Greek village are shackled into their roles and libidos as if a cloud of iron soot weighs over them.I don't recall a single smile or laugh in this entire escapade, outside of the one scene where a local man revels in his retelling of assaulting a young woman. This came from a side character and as we watch our central family plod along into the plot we can see just how claustrophobically misogynistic their world is. The daughter, Anna, is cautious of her brother, Anestis, who, with his creepy glass-eyed appearance, seems to crawl around the farm and nearby fields like he's caught in between being a dangerous child and a vicious man. The Kanalis family maid, Chrysa, disappears early on in the film then comes back again. A mute woman who seems perpetually terrified of this family's toxic presence and the son Anestis's raging perversion. Eventually you can see where this all leads. Chrysa disappears again. Anestis is wracked with guilt and paranoia. Ditto Mr. and Mrs. Kanalis. Anna is suspicious. They're all lost and flailing violently within the empty barns and bleak hay-fields. It's a punishing experience and one that would be much harder to digest if it wasn't so beautifully executed. The avant-garde orchestral score shakes you to your core, pushing each dramatic peak over the edge. The camera is a smooth menacing eye on all the simmering degradation. The monochromatic imagery here, as gorgeous and as powerful as you need to consume this subtly depraved experience. It all comes together with an unnerving and cathartic climax. Really profound film."What'll become of your soul, you dog?"
