BDirected by Christopher Smith Starring Eddie Redmayne, Sean Bean, and Carice Van Houten Review by Jon Kissel |  |
The plague of the Middle Ages is the setting of Christopher Smith's Black Death, and the film doesn't shy away from the despair of the time. Bodies in various stages of decay line streets and roads, and those still living all know someone who died an agonizing death. The religious fervor and shame inflicted on the populace by the Catholic Church is no spiritual balm, as this is all surely happening because of something the sufferer did and not because of the rats skittering through the opening frames of the film. There's little to grab onto in this world as constructed by Smith, with varying degrees of less-wrong all that separates many of the characters. It's easy to see why so few films tackle this bleak period, a fact that also makes Black Death's existence exceptional all the way through to its bitter end.
Taking place in 14th century England, Black Death begins in the throes of the plague. Young monk Osmund (Eddie Redmayne) has just been released from quarantine with a clean bill of health, but his real concern is his forbidden paramour Averill (Kimberly Nixon), who he sends from town to outrun the sickness that has only recently descended here. She does so, promising to wait a week for him at a secret meeting place, but failing that, will have to find her own way without him. Osmund prays for guidance, and his prayer is answered in a team of witch hunters traveling in the same direction as Averill. Led by Ulric (Sean Bean), they have been sent by the bishop to investigate a town rumored to have avoided the plague completely. Their mission is not to learn from them, but to interrogate and torture them for information on the witchcraft they have so obviously been practicing. Osmund eagerly volunteers to go with Ulric and his band of rough men, forming a medieval road movie through death and brutality.
A strength of Black Death is how it takes what's expected and adds a period-appropriate twist to it. This might be standard swords-and-armor production design, but the detail and the philosophy on display are transporting. Men in those iconic beaked masks stalk the streets of Osmund's town, and Ulric's rolling torture cart is well-stocked with the nefarious implements of the day. As with horror films of this kind, Ulric's caravan is warned off their destination, but here, the warning is delivered by self-flagellating fanatics wading through a murky creek. Death is everywhere, and the characters, with the exception of the barely-hopeful Osmund, are appropriately fatalistic in all things. Downtime conversation appears friendly enough on its surface until getting-to-know-you talk is replaced by anecdotes about the time all the women in a village were burned at the stake, just to be safe. This road trip has its various personalities that Osmund gets to know, but each one belongs to a murderer and a sadist in the thrall of a distant, unseen holy man.
The journey aspect is one part of Black Death. Another is the cult aspect, a personal favorite of mine. Upon arriving in the healthy village, things are appropriately creepy, becoming moreso when the village chief Langiva (a perfectly cast Carice Van Houten) appears. Seductive and confident at a time when either trait could get her accused of a hanging offense, she immediately puts Ulric on edge, and he cannot help but assert his muscular piety on the village, putting himself and his crew in danger. This is the rare cult film where the cult's existence is not only legitimately called for, but they might actually be the good guys compared to the indiscriminate injustice of the dominant religion. Smith and writer Dario Poloni don't settle there in the village's depiction, making things more complicated while also deepening Langiva's character beyond simply being a charismatic leader.
Black Death is submerged in its time period, well-cast, and intriguingly written, but it does falter in places. The fight choreography is inelegant and poorly shot, with the impetus being how dirty Ulric's men fight and not on a clear understanding of who's where and what they are doing. Averill is never much more than a McGuffin, not given the time or energy to make the character anything other than an object for Osmund to chase after, and an otherwise strong ending is marred by an unnecessary voiceover that does not even fit with what happened during the film. These moments briefly break the world that Smith and his team has worked so hard to create. With the commitment of something like the years-later The Witch, Black Death could've surpassed its action and characterization issues. Even without measuring up to that new standard, Smith impresses with his adherence to an appropriately dark tone for this ugly milieu. B
A strength of Black Death is how it takes what's expected and adds a period-appropriate twist to it. This might be standard swords-and-armor production design, but the detail and the philosophy on display are transporting. Men in those iconic beaked masks stalk the streets of Osmund's town, and Ulric's rolling torture cart is well-stocked with the nefarious implements of the day. As with horror films of this kind, Ulric's caravan is warned off their destination, but here, the warning is delivered by self-flagellating fanatics wading through a murky creek. Death is everywhere, and the characters, with the exception of the barely-hopeful Osmund, are appropriately fatalistic in all things. Downtime conversation appears friendly enough on its surface until getting-to-know-you talk is replaced by anecdotes about the time all the women in a village were burned at the stake, just to be safe. This road trip has its various personalities that Osmund gets to know, but each one belongs to a murderer and a sadist in the thrall of a distant, unseen holy man.
The journey aspect is one part of Black Death. Another is the cult aspect, a personal favorite of mine. Upon arriving in the healthy village, things are appropriately creepy, becoming moreso when the village chief Langiva (a perfectly cast Carice Van Houten) appears. Seductive and confident at a time when either trait could get her accused of a hanging offense, she immediately puts Ulric on edge, and he cannot help but assert his muscular piety on the village, putting himself and his crew in danger. This is the rare cult film where the cult's existence is not only legitimately called for, but they might actually be the good guys compared to the indiscriminate injustice of the dominant religion. Smith and writer Dario Poloni don't settle there in the village's depiction, making things more complicated while also deepening Langiva's character beyond simply being a charismatic leader.
Black Death is submerged in its time period, well-cast, and intriguingly written, but it does falter in places. The fight choreography is inelegant and poorly shot, with the impetus being how dirty Ulric's men fight and not on a clear understanding of who's where and what they are doing. Averill is never much more than a McGuffin, not given the time or energy to make the character anything other than an object for Osmund to chase after, and an otherwise strong ending is marred by an unnecessary voiceover that does not even fit with what happened during the film. These moments briefly break the world that Smith and his team has worked so hard to create. With the commitment of something like the years-later The Witch, Black Death could've surpassed its action and characterization issues. Even without measuring up to that new standard, Smith impresses with his adherence to an appropriately dark tone for this ugly milieu. B
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