Canal+ | Through the Shattered Lens

“Violence is a language written in blood; it tells the story of those who refuse to be silenced.”

Coralie Fargeat’s 2017 film Revenge is an intense and striking blend of horror and thriller that refreshes the rape-revenge genre with a strong emphasis on female empowerment and resistance. At its core, the film follows Jen, a young woman who is brutally assaulted and left for dead in a desert. Against all odds, she survives and seeks brutal revenge on her attackers. What makes Revenge stand out is its blend of graphic, realistic violence and a striking, highly stylized visual approach, resulting in a film that is both visceral and symbolic.

Revenge sits within a long tradition of rape-revenge films that includes both grindhouse exploitation and serious art films. One of the earliest and most influential films in this tradition is Ingmar Bergman’s The Virgin Spring (1960), a somber and moral exploration of a father’s response to his daughter’s rape and murder in medieval Sweden. Bergman’s film inspired many later works, including Wes Craven’s famously brutal The Last House on the Left (1972), which reinterprets the same story through the lens of exploitation horror. Other notorious examples include I Spit on Your Grave (1978), known for its graphic depiction of sexual violence and violent retaliation. More recent films like Jennifer Kent’s The Nightingale (2018) revisit these narrative themes with psychological and political depth. Fargeat’s Revenge draws on this history, combining symbolic storytelling and thematic depth with the raw brutality and energy of grindhouse exploitation.

The narrative structure of Revenge is familiar: Jen, introduced as the mistress of a wealthy man, is assaulted by his friends. Her lover Richard tries to silence her by pushing her off a cliff, but Jen survives, severely injured and impaled on a tree. Her journey is one of intense physical suffering, but also resurrection and fierce empowerment. The film’s use of bright, vivid colors such as hot pinks and blues shifts the story into a surreal, symbolic space where gender roles are exaggerated and the desert becomes a mythic battleground where Jen fights to reclaim control.

Fargeat depicts Jen’s trauma and physical recovery through graphic and detailed body horror—not simply for shock, but as a visual metaphor for reclaiming agency. For example, Jen’s self-treatment of her impalement wound with a hot beer can brands her skin and symbolizes her rebirth and determination. These elements mark a clear departure from earlier rape-revenge films that sensationalized female suffering, shifting the focus to the survivor’s power and autonomy.

Cinematographer Robrecht Heyvaert’s work enhances this dynamic, contrasting the bright, harsh desert landscape with the cold, sterile luxury of Richard’s home. This contrast symbolizes the clash between raw survival and social control. The violence throughout the film is explicit and often hard to watch, but it is deeply rooted in the reality of trauma rather than fantasy.

Matilda Lutz’s performance as Jen is a key strength of the film. She transforms from a vulnerable, objectified figure into a fierce, focused avenger. The male antagonists are less developed, serving as archetypes of toxic male dominance—entitlement, violence, and cowardice—and their downfall reflects the collapse of that social order.

While Revenge maintains the fast pace and suspense of a thriller, its focus on graphic body horror and trauma places it firmly within the horror genre, aligning with the French Extremity movement known for its intense depictions of suffering and transgression. The source of horror here is not supernatural but very much rooted in the physical and psychological impact of violence.

The film has been praised for its technical skill and its focus on female resistance and empowerment. Instead of exploiting female suffering, it forces audiences to confront violence and trauma in a way that centers strength and rage. This is a clear reimagining of the revenge narrative through a modern lens that highlights resilience.

Revenge stands as both a tribute and a reinvention within its genre. It nods respectfully to the moral complexity of Bergman’s The Virgin Spring, the shock tactics of grindhouse staples like The Last House on the Left and I Spit on Your Grave, and the psychological depth of The Nightingale. Yet it simultaneously reinterprets these influences, making a statement that is both timely and provocative.

Coralie Fargeat’s Revenge is a powerful and contemporary entry into the rape-revenge genre, blending horror and thriller conventions with a focus on survival and agency. The film explores the physical and emotional effects of trauma and the possibility of reclaiming power through violence. Its vivid visuals, symbolism, and intense violence challenge audiences to rethink assumptions about gender, justice, and survival. It is a film that provokes strong reactions while delivering a deeply felt story of empowerment and resilience.

“When the dead come for you, there’s no place left to run.”

Most zombie films tend to be average at best, often falling into outright mediocrity. Because this subgenre is relatively easy to create, many aspiring filmmakers believe they can produce the next standout hit with just an HD camera, a modest budget, and a cast drawn from friends and family. Naturally, this formula has led most zombie movies to occupy the low end of the horror genre in terms of quality. However, every so often, a truly exceptional film emerges. Edgar Wright’s Shaun of the Dead became an instant classic by blending horror with comedy, and Zack Snyder’s remake of Romero’s Dawn of the Dead delivered intense, action-packed thrills.

The 2009 French horror film La Horde—directed by Benjamin Rocher and Yannick Dahan—leans toward Snyder’s style. It strips away societal commentary, opting instead for raw action and relentless gore. This might suggest a mindless movie, but La Horde proves to be as engaging and nihilistic as Snyder’s film, perhaps even more so by its conclusion.

The directors spare no time on exposition, diving straight into the plot. The story follows a group of French police officers—most likely narcotics agents—who plan to take revenge on a Nigerian crime lord responsible for killing one of their own. Their chosen battlefield is a dilapidated high-rise apartment complex in a crime-infested district of Paris. However, their operation quickly unravels when the ambush goes disastrously wrong. What begins as a gritty crime thriller transforms abruptly into an apocalyptic battle for survival, as the police and rival gang members are forced to join forces against a sudden zombie outbreak sweeping through Paris and possibly beyond.

Once the zombies arrive, the film shifts into high gear. The action and gore come fast and furious, skillfully choreographed and unflinching. Secondary characters are swiftly dispatched, leaving only the most capable to fight their way through a tenement overrun by fast, aggressive zombies akin to those in Snyder’s Dawn of the Dead or Boyle’s 28 Days Later. Though some purists might balk at sprinting zombies, they fit perfectly with the film’s frantic pace. Notably, the film does not attempt to explain the outbreak’s origin, leaving audiences as disoriented as the characters, glimpsing only fragmented news reports for context.

The remainder of the film is an intense descent through the building, with the survivors battling floor by floor in search of an exit and safety at a nearby military base. Choosing characters familiar with violence—cops, criminals, and a hardened local survivor—grounds their fierce will to survive in realism. Even the lone resident they encounter brings useful skills born from a violent past.

While La Horde does not offer complex character development, its finely tuned action scenes keep the audience fully engaged, masking the story’s simplicity. By the film’s end, viewers are likely to forgive any flaws, having been thoroughly entertained. A few characters, such as the composed officer Oussme (Jean-Pierre Martins) and the crime lord Markudi (Eriq Ebouaney), achieve extra depth, but most are archetypes serving the survival narrative. Still, this works well given the film’s focus on high-stakes survival.

Though La Horde never secured a major U.S. release, it gained attention on the international genre festival circuit starting in 2010. While it may primarily appeal to zombie and horror aficionados, it also offers plenty for action fans. Its brutal, relentless energy earns it a strong recommendation as an exhilarating experience from start to finish.