Silence is golden in horror right now. From the whole concept of A Quiet Place to a sequence in Alien: Romulus that thrives on sound levels rising no higher than a heartbeat, films are throwing themselves down a gauntlet in keeping their characters schtum to milk tension. E. L. Katz’s post-Rapture survival horror Azrael: Angel of Death is next in line, stripping itself of dialogue as a method of cinematic repentance and a Hail Mary for keeping this sub-genre alive.
In a future where all good Christians have left the mortal plain, Samara Weaving is an unnamed (until the credits) female on the run, hair bedraggled by the bleak wilderness surrounding her and voice robbed by a cross branded over her vocal chords. She and her partner (Nathan Stewart-Jarrett) are pursued by a gang of devout cultists sporting similar scars, and it isn’t long before he is bundled into the trunk of a car and she is left tied to a chair in the woods, waiting to be eaten by an extra crispy chargrilled demon. She makes good her escape and swears bloody revenge on her persecutors, dodging the hellish creatures of the woods before infiltrating humanity’s last makeshift compound. As the bodies pile up and Weaving’s dark heroine gets increasingly drenched in blood, an unnerving prophecy involving a mysterious priestess (Vic Carmen Sonne) and a big old baby bump begins to manifest…
Who doesn’t enjoy a bit of light blasphemy with their bloody horror? The Rapture is such a contentious and open-ended slice of Biblical lore that its cinematic possibilities are endless. What would Earth look like in its wake? How would the people left behind feel? What evil is allowed to roam in a godless place? TV answered this thoroughly and beautifully with The Leftovers, so it makes sense for Azrael to go in the opposite direction, while also referring to another hot TV property – its survivalist aesthetic, composed of ripped winter jackets and unkempt beards, isn’t too far away from The Last of Us. However, this commitment to the drab misery of post-apocalyptic life hampers the level of excitement Azrael is capable of reaching, setting it firmly within an endless woodland and saving its more colourful touches for an exhilaratingly gruey finale. There’s an unwelcome familiarity to this version of the end of the world that is appropriately down and dirty given its low budget, but ultimately limiting in its overall vision.
One suffocatingly claustrophobic sequence sees Weaving come face-to-face with a beastie in a three foot-wide warren that will give anyone with a fear of tight spaces the heebie-jeebies…
Thank the vengeful lord above, then, for Samara Weaving’s presence in the lead. She’s a scream queen with a particular penchant for getting completely caked in claret by the final reel, and while this is no Ready or Not as a showcase for her wide range, she nonetheless turns in a ferocious performance that is by turns vulnerable and defiant. Katz also has an eye for character actors and deploys a cast of interesting faces from Northern and Eastern European cinema as his villains. Any fans of oddball fairy tale romance Border will recognise Eero Milonoff as the burly heavy on Weaving’s trail, and there’s a genuine pathos emanating from Katariina Unt’s reluctant leader of the pack, her weathered face and hangdog expression telling years of worry and guilt. And then there’s Vic Carmen Sonne, making an impression with a small role that forms a dark mirror image of her pious country girl in last year’s Godland, her wide eyes and distinctive eyebrows mixing the ethereal and earthy to compelling effect. Nathan Stewart-Jarrett (so good in last year’s Femme, and still one of the most underrated working actors) is sadly wasted in a role that is given nothing to do but suffer, but his inclusion is still a part of a strong ensemble bolstering the material.
As a horror, there are tense moments here and there, but overall, the scares come from visceral spurts of gore rather than sustained intensity. The coal-black zombies that roam the forests add a nice touch of eeriness to the state of the world left behind, and their ravenous appetite for blood leads to some deliciously nasty kills, brought to death-rattling life with sticky, sinewy practical effects. Throats are noshed into and heads are ripped clean off, and Katz relishes the opportunity to go gonzo after a few films that flirted with the idea of insane violence yet only teased it from afar. One suffocatingly claustrophobic sequence sees Weaving come face-to-face with a beastie in a three foot-wide warren that will give anyone with a fear of tight spaces the heebie-jeebies, and when Azrael switches tack and location like this, it’s a solid experience. It just struggles to sustain the discomfort in between these bursts of energy.
It’s also a film of tawdry details and non-sequiturs that are muffled by its reluctance to speak. One midway rug-pull suggests so much to be explored but is instantly cut down by a necessity to keep to the main road, and the complex allegiances of the last scene are confusingly drawn by a twist on a twist on a twist that twists things up so much that one is unsure if it’s a happy, sad or batshit crazy final note. It’s fine to have things up for interpretation, of course, but a bunch of ambitiously crossed wires is a tough sell for a straightforward meat-grinder like this. The visual language of the film isn’t clear enough to deliver that gut-punch “ohhhh, I seeee…” moment, despite Samara Weaving’s already-iconic smirk and cocked-eyebrow adding spice to the overall experience.
For those looking for restrained thrills in the same vein as A Quiet Place, Azrael fits the bill. It’s got blood in its veins and things on its mind, even if it has trouble balancing the two at once. Those with an interest in religious horror may also find some fascinating ideas at play, suggesting something gritty and dark borne out of the unseen day of judgment. It’s otherwise as choppy as the meat cleavers wielded in its gory climax, and can occasionally make mincemeat out of its audience in the process.
Azrael: Angel of Death had its UK premiere at Frightfest 2024
