'31 Nights of Horror' Day 23: The Devil's Bath (2024)
The Devil’s Bath is a haunting period drama that explores the unraveling of a young woman trapped by the stifling expectations
Hey, ghouls! 31 Nights of Horror is here, serving up daily scares with reviews of classic and new horror films. Watch for chilling lists and other spine-tingling pieces. Keep your lights on… the terror begins now
The Devil’s Bath is a haunting period drama that explores the unraveling of a young woman trapped by the stifling expectations of 18th-century Austria. Directed by Severin Fiala and Veronika Franz, known for their work on Goodnight Mommy, the film delves into both historical and psychological horror, using its lush yet eerie environment as a mirror for the inner turmoil of its protagonist, Agnes (Anja Plaschg).
At the film’s opening, Agnes is shown surrounded by the beauty of nature, deeply connected to the world around her. She cherishes the insects she finds and carries them with her as mementos when she leaves her childhood home to marry Wolf (David Scheid). But life in her new home quickly becomes suffocating. Her marriage is loveless, with Wolf showing no interest in her romantically or sexually, and she’s further oppressed by the overbearing presence of her mother-in-law, Mother Gänglin (Maria Hofstätter). The expectations placed on Agnes—primarily to bear children and care for the household—overwhelm her. Her repeated failures to meet these demands slowly erode her spirit.
What sets The Devil’s Bath apart is the way Fiala and Franz link Agnes’ mental state to the world around her. As she struggles to adapt to her new life, the once welcoming landscape transforms into a claustrophobic nightmare. Trees become tangled, fog settles in, and the land takes on a hungry, foreboding quality. This external environment mirrors Agnes’ internal breakdown, as her sense of isolation and despair grows stronger with each passing day. The family’s fishing ponds, muddy and teeming with catfish, represent the brutality of her new reality—a far cry from the vibrant nature she once loved.
Plaschg’s portrayal of Agnes is achingly nuanced. She brings a poetic, dreamlike quality to the character, showing how Agnes seeks comfort in the smallest remnants of her former life, like the insects she holds dear. As her situation worsens, Agnes’ attempts to preserve her individuality are met with crushing indifference or outright hostility. When Wolf destroys her precious keepsakes, it’s a symbolic blow that represents how Agnes' identity is being erased piece by piece.
The film builds to a powerful examination of depression and the weight of societal expectations. Agnes' struggles are not merely a product of her specific circumstances, but of a broader historical pattern where women are suffocated by the roles forced upon them. The film subtly hints at Wolf’s potential homosexuality, but Agnes internalizes his lack of affection as her own failure, further deepening her despair.
Fiala and Franz handle this descent with remarkable care. Rather than sensationalizing Agnes’ mental illness, they allow it to unfold quietly, showing how her environment and societal pressures push her to the edge. The film draws on historical research around the phenomenon of “suicide by proxy” in early modern Germany, where suicidal individuals, bound by religious beliefs, would commit murder in hopes of achieving salvation through execution. This bleak reality casts a shadow over Agnes’ story, as her slow collapse becomes not just a personal tragedy, but a reflection of a brutal and unforgiving world.
The Devil’s Bath is a masterclass in atmospheric storytelling, blending historical realism with psychological depth. It’s a deeply empathetic portrait of a woman lost to the tides of time and tradition, offering a haunting meditation on identity, mental illness, and the devastating effects of societal conformity.