A masked gang of religious zealots seek out sinners in Anita Rocha da Silveira’s Medusa
MEDUSA (Anita Rocha da Silveira, 2021)
Angelika Film Center
18 West Houston St.
Opens Friday, July 29
www.angelikafilmcenter.com
www.musicboxfilms.com/film/medusa
Brazilian writer-director Anita Rocha da Silveira follows up her 2015 success, Kill Me Please, about murder, sin, and misogyny among adolescents, with Medusa, which takes similar themes and more to another level.
According to ancient myth, Medusa was a beautiful mortal Gorgon virgin who was cursed after being seduced by Poseidon; she turned into an ugly snake-haired demon, and men who looked directly at her were turned into stone. In Medusa, a group of God-fearing young women prowl the streets at night, wearing white masks, hunting down sinful women and beating them until they agree to renounce their sins and worship Jesus; their confessions are recorded and posted on social media, where they go viral. The vicious group is inspired by an unknown woman who, years before, put on a mask and set on fire the face of an actress and dancer named Melissa (Bruna Linzmeyer) because of her lascivious promiscuity. Neither woman has been seen since.
By day, the mask-wearing gang is a bright and cheery religious singing troupe known as the Treasures of the Lord, dressed all in white, proudly chirping, “The Lord shall make my dream come true,” declaring themselves to be “witnesses of faith.” They are members of a cultlike church run by the charismatic Pastor Guilherme (Thiago Fragoso), who tells his flock, “My brothers, for a long time, the church has been estranged from the nation’s decisions. How much time have we wasted believing that the church shouldn’t decide the country’s future?”
The young men in the church are part of the Watchmen of Sion, self-appointed “guardians of the family, the morals, and the Lord,” a well-trained vigilante mob whose goal is to “crush the sinners.” The objective is that the Watchmen and the Treasures chastely fall in love and marry, creating a next generation of religious zealots to continue their mission to transform the world into faithful legions.
One night, the masked Treasures’ target fights back, scarring Mari’s (Mari Oliveria) face. The disfigurement is embarrassing to Mari, Treasures leader Michele (Lara Tremouroux), and the plastic surgery clinic where Mari works; she is soon fired because of her appearance.
While indoctrinating newbie Clarissa (Bruna G), Mari sets out to get a photo of the original victim, Melissa, and expose her sins on social media. She gets a job at a mysterious hospital that cares for people in long-term comas who are not expected to regain consciousness. There Mari is befriended by coworker Lucas (Felipe Frazão), who is attracted to her. It isn’t long before Mari begins questioning where her carefully regimented life is leading her.
Medusa is a creepy thriller, the eerie spawn of John Carpenter, David Lynch, Claire Denis, Dario Argento, and Brian De Palma as well as Georges Franju’s Eyes without a Face and Rachel Grady and Heidi Ewing’s Jesus Camp. Not afraid to let her influences show, Rocha da Silveira imbues the film with a 1970s giallo / 1980s horror aesthetic even though it is set in the present day. It’s a cleverly disguised condemnation of the far-right evangelical movement that seeks to control women’s bodies, legislate their restrictive morality, and convert their country — be it Brazil, the United States, or elsewhere — into a Christian nation.
Mari (Mari Oliveria) and Michele (Lara Tremouroux) attempt to hide their own scars while inflicting pain on others in Brazilian thriller
Cinematographer João Atala often zooms in for close-ups of characters’ faces, exploring ideas of beauty as well as physical and emotional scars; Mari isn’t the only one attempting to cover something up. The women occasionally stare directly into the camera, implicating the viewer for making judgments and hiding their own sins, symbolically threatening to turn them to stone.
Despite numerous plot holes, digressions left hanging, and bumpy transitions between scenes, Medusa is a dark, compelling chiller with a killer soundtrack by Bernardo Uzeda, including classic tunes (for example, “House of the Rising Sun”) with rewritten religious lyrics that provide a false sense of security to their performers. The film, now playing at the Angelika, is a dark cautionary tale about forcing one’s morals onto others in a world where we all debate who the real monsters are.