Dracula may be the best known fictional vampire around but Bram Stoker’s creation is far from the origin point. European folklore and stories like John Polidori’s “The Vampyre” from 1819 had long established vampires as frightening creatures, and it’s this tradition that Adrien Beau draws on for his take. He specifically adapts Aleksy Tolstoy’s novella “The Family of the Vourdalak”, which has previously received two cinematic treatments, the most memorable being as one of the stories in Mario Bava’s Black Sabbath.
In contrast to Bava’s stagey melodrama, Beau’s feature debut builds on the genre fluidity previously explored in his short films, melding historical drama with fantasy to tell a gothic vampire tale through the aesthetics of folk horror. There’s a bit of Hammer Horror in there too, and being shot on 16mm film brings a whole other aesthetic into play, so far from being a hodge-podge of ideas, Beau crafts his own vision in a beguiling and strange way.
This balances well with the relatively simple story of Marquis Jacques Saturnin du Antoine who, after being robbed, seeks aid at the house of a man named Gorcha – whose family reluctantly welcome him into their home. Gorcha returns from battling with the Turks (the nature of the conflict is never explained), as a vourdalak, and the Jacques is subsequently caught up in family conflict as the eldest son, Jegor, is determined to preserve order, but his siblings Piotr and Sdenka know the truth, and try to kill Gorcha before he gets to them first.
It’s through the titular creature that Beau’s experimentalism shines brightest, not least as he voices and puppets the vourdalak himself. Skeletal, pale, and with a voice like gravel, it’s a striking performance that’s enhanced by everyone around him playing it straight. The uncanniness is perfectly balanced by the very personal threat that vourdalaks only drink the blood of family and loved ones, and as Piotr summarises, “love itself is a curse in these parts”. Gorcha’s relationship with Jacques becomes more complicated as he’s resentful from not being able to feed off him, but respectful due to the Marquis’ rank.
Indeed, Beau has discussed in interviews how vampires and zombies are often differentiated by class in film (unlike literature), and in flipping the typical dynamic of an ordinary human meeting an aristocratic vampire, The Vourdalak provides a unique way to use them as class commentary. The Marquis is clearly out of his depth from the moment he arrives, reciting his full title to each member of the family – who are increasingly unimpressed. His aggressive attempt to seduce Sdenka leads to him nearly falling to his death, and he’s largely passive for the majority of the film. One of the most haunting shots is when he’s at his most powerless and we watch a horrifying scene from his perspective. The vourdalak may be a visible monster, but the Marquis’ assumed entitlement emphasises how unsupported the family are, and even with all of his status, he has no power in their world.
For all the complex themes it tackles, the film never feels overstuffed and works as a slow-burn creepy horror. The house and area surrounding are ideal locations, especially as the film mostly takes place in day-time, which offers the illusion of openness and freedom. The smallest of details add to the horror, like the sign of the vourdalak when they noisily suck on clothing – an innocuous activity that becomes disturbing when hyperfocused on. With The Vourdalak as his debut feature film, Beau marks himself as one to watch by bringing something new to a familiar horror creature.
The Vourdalak is available on Digital Platforms via Blue Finch Films
Mike’s Archive – The Vourdalak (2023)
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