*It was not a friendly reminder, I am Very Uncomfortable™.

You’re Marquis Jacques (Kacey Klein), a French courtier who traded his backbone for astounding self regard. While travelling to a foreign court, you are attacked by bandits. Searching for shelter in a hostile forest, you seek the help of Gorcha (Adrien Beau) and his family. Once arrived, you find Gorcha missing, but his eldest son Jegor (Gregoire Colin) offers you a bed and promises he will find you a horse the next day. One problem, there is a slight chance that Gorcha will return as a vampire that night and kill his family.

This is the plot of Le Vourdalak (The Vourdalak), a French film based on the 1839 gothic novella The Family of the Vourdalak by A. K. Tolstoy. No, not that Tolstoy, Lev ‘Leo’ Tolstoy was his significantly more famous younger cousin. The film itself was the 2023 debut of Adrien Beau, a small horror-focused director, first shown at The Venice Film Festival, where it almost won best film. It had less success at further film festivals on its journey to Australia’s Fantastic Film Festival, who very kindly gave me access to it.

I could easily write a scathing review critiquing Le Vourdalak’s rape-y sexism, uncomfortable colonial undertones, and villainisation of the LGBT+ community. Not to mention lack-lustre cinematography, costumes bought from a dollar store, and absolute lack of character, features that usually redeem the problematic 1970s films Le Vourdalak echoes. But the arguably more interesting question is, why do we, as an audience, keep watching films like Le Vourdalak, when we know they’re prejudiced? Why do they keep getting made?

How did Adrien Beau change The Family of the Vourdalak?

To be blunt, watching Le Vourdalak was an unfriendly reminder that most monster horror is built off xenophobia and colonialism. Take Dracula, which, simplified, is a fear of monsters from “uncivilised” countries (Transylvania) migrating to and destroying “civilised” England. In Le Vourdalak, it’s never stated which country Borcha and his family are from, rather, they’re dressed in stereotypical “gypsy” clothes, their food is mocked, and they have conservative gender roles. The family is incessantly infantilised, including my favourite line, from Gorcha to the Marquis: “I love you. I never knew how to be better, you taught me too late.” Because I live in a British colony, sometimes I forget that the French are also colonisers, so thanks to this line for reminding me.

This rampant racism so astounded me that I actually read A. K. Tolstoy’s original novella, just to see where the racism was based. My conclusion? The Family of the Vourdalak is so much less racist. It's honestly a fantastic read, and if you have the choice between watching Le Vourdalak and reading the original story, just read the original. For one, the country is named (Sebia) and we are actually told about Serbian cultural practices in a respectful way. The narrator compliments the family on their honour and love for each other. The story actually mocks French court values, rather than Serbian, which makes sense, given A. K. Tolstoy was a Russian courtier visiting France. Even from a storytelling perspective, A. K. Tolstoy’s novel is much more tragic than the movie. The characters are undone by their own affection for each other, rather than in Le Vourdalak where they’re undone by… not being French?

If the racism in Le Vourdalak doesn’t actually derive from its source material, why are we, in 2023, making the decision to be racist in horror? If I hadn’t been writing a review, I would’ve left Le Vourdalak not giving Adrien Beau full responsibility, and assuming colonialism was just unavoidable in the source. It makes me wonder, how many other directors hide questionable opinions behind their source material being old?

Le Vourdalak and Nostalgia for ‘70s and ‘80s Movies

Importantly we have ‘is better than her uncivilised upbringing sex object’ Sdenka (Ariane Labed), who loathes her culture and wishes to travel to the “superior” French court.

If there is one thing that Adrien Beau does well, it is to replicate the aesthetics of late ‘70s and early ‘80s movies. I double checked the date of this movie because it was so convincing. The grainy film quality, The Labyrinth-esq puppetry, and even the shots, though not as spellbinding as The Shining or Bram Stoker’s Dracula, hold the same weird surrealism so distinct from modern cinematography. My filmmaker friend can (and has) talk for hours about how the 21st century marks “the fall of creativity” in movies. Films like Le Vourdalak are certainly marketed in this way, simultaneously ‘a breath of fresh air’ and a return to the ‘purity’ of the old movie industry.

I’ve got to ask though, if the ‘70s was a time of unbridled creativity, why are there production tropes for Le Vourdalak to pull on? Surely there wouldn’t be a united ‘70s film aesthetic, because that would be a marketable formula, and only the 21st century has those, right? It’s easy to be blinded by novelty, and I warn the reader to always consider whether something is perfect or just new.

As well as the ‘70s aesthetic, Beau adopts the ‘70s rampant sexism. Safe to say, Le Vourdalak does not pass the Sexy Lamp test. For the uninitiated, the Sexy Lamp test asks the question, “If you replaced this female character with a sexy lamp, would it change anything?” This flavour of sexist movies is admittedly sparse in the horror genre since they’re usually trying to not die, and so are moving the plot. Rather, horror usually exploits female suffering for entertainment, unfortunately sometimes literally, like in The Shining, where Kubrick psychologically tortured the lead actress to get “more authentic” emotion. However, Le Vourdalak somehow manages to both have his sexy lamp Sdenka (Ariane Labed) and make that lamp suffer for entertainment, a depressing and begrudgingly impressive level of sexism.

We return to our original question, why do films like Le Vourdalak appeal? Why does this film have seven goddamn stars? From Le Vourdalak being both more racist and more sexist than the material it’s a homage to, one has to wonder what we’re actually nostalgic for in gothic tales and ‘70s movies. At least I hope we have to wonder that, otherwise this movie was just a huge waste of my time.

Image List

Illustration by Jocelyn Saunders

Illustration by Jocelyn Saunders based on Gorcha in Le Vourdalak (2023).

Illustration by Jocelyn Saunders