A recent surge of teen-centric horror films has fulfilled the demand for allegorical narratives that take the concerns of a younger demographic to heart. Arguably their most accessible work to date, Alexandre Bustillo and Julien Maury’s contribution to this growing canon is the Shudder exclusive Kandisha. The film is an unrelentingly bleak yet poignant look at the cyclical trauma of colonial violence. From its opening shots, it tears a bloody page from Clive Barker’s book as the camera sweeps above a rundown mixed-race Parisian district. Its buildings are defined by foreboding cinematography. Keen genre audiences have already identified parallels between this setting and the Cabrini-Green projects in Candyman, but they are taken further by the filmmakers who compound an oppressive socio-political reality with the vengeful spirit of a Moroccan urban legend named Aïsha Kandisha.
Before unleashing her terror, the script relays uneasy truths about the racial and gender dynamics of a close group of friends. Black teens are met with racist outbursts masked as casual banter. Unwanted male attention is averted briefly yet remains a palpable threat to the girls in the group. On the street, they are closely monitored by police. Never relishing in the misery of its surroundings, the film thoughtfully explores the interior life of its characters. The pessimism of the story is tempered by quiet moments between our leads, Amélie (Mathilde Lamusse), Bintou (Suzy Bemba), and Morjana (Samarcande Saadi). They are given space to relate to one another outside of their male cohorts, snuffing out the dread of young adult life with graffiti, music, and weed.
Though overly reliant on supernatural horror tropes, Kandisha gains momentum by melding them with the unforgiving gore aesthetics typical of a Bustillo-Maury pic. Initially dismissed by Amélie, Kandisha’s fury is summoned via bloody pentagram after a violent attack at the hands of her ex-boyfriend. The ritual kills him and quickly begins to target the men in her life. The film applies pressure as the girls race to protect loved ones from this curse. It is a stroke of cruel irony that the justice served by the spirit only tears open more wounds. Even more unsettling is that Amélie’s act of desperation is overwhelmed by an ancient tragedy.
Kandisha’s familiarity will feel safe to viewers who know what to look for. But what makes Bustillo and Maury a compulsively watchable team is the reverence they have for the genre. Even a micro-managed production like Leatherface bears traces of their underrated rural slasher Among the Living. With each project, the pair’s abrasive style is well suited to traditional horror storytelling, and their latest is no different. The film’s brutality remains consistent with previous output by the filmmakers but doesn’t over-indulge. It mainly succeeds on the strength of its committed performances, and the legend herself is realized to nightmarish specifications made all the more intense by clever framing and lighting choices. The brooding surrealism of the Nightmare On Elm Street series immediately comes to mind as our core group of characters attempts to navigate the dangers around them.
Interestingly, the trio of girls exudes the same determination to survive that’s consistent with Wes Craven’s most iconic characters. Each actress brings the lived-in baggage of their respective persona to life with dignity. Lamusse shines as the protagonist who is doomed to face an evil she had no part in creating. But Craven’s influence is clearest as Bustillo and Maury elaborate on the harshness of the world they live in. The core of the film is unflinching in its assessment of the men who perpetrate harm and their abuse of authority. The film, however, doesn’t forge cheap villains. As innovators within the New French Extremity, the directors are no strangers to forcing the truth out of difficult scenarios. Though Kandisha doesn’t reach the manic heights of a film like Inside, it affirms that the scene’s influence is anything but dead.
In popular horror, and especially when younger people are at the forefront, themes often repeat themselves for a new generation. This film boldly asserts itself amidst a seemingly endless stream of content. A less formal quality that Kandisha embodies is an awareness of a multi-generational struggle without recourse. There is a wave of palatable anger driving it that is difficult to shake. Other folks before me have pinned this story as merely a retread of horror filmmaking spanning the last 30+ years, but I disagree. The film is a confident, measured throwback with bite. A step forward for Bustillo and Maury and one I hope isn’t buried and forgotten. With The Deep House on its trail, perhaps the conversation will open up. As it stands, Kandisha’s resonant message to dejected youths is undeniable.
