#kalavet

[horrorasgenre-blog]

Kalavet (Rabies), dir. Aharon Keshales and Navot Papushado, 2010

[somethingbooo]

Review: Rabies (Israel, 2011)

Horror films are expected to deliver certain qualities, primary among them being some scares. Rabies (Kalavet in the original Israeli) is not only unique for being the first horror film produced in Israel, but for upending just about every expectation for slasher films. It’s a movie that constantly surprises the viewer, pivoting from tension to the bleakest humor on a dime, and refusing any commitment to “scares,” if by that word we mean causing someone to become fearful. Apprehension, yes. Scary? Not so much, but—and this may be the only time I ever say this—in the best possible way. 

The movie tells the story of four interlocking stories, but not in some trite, overly simplistic Crash-meets-Babel kind of way. No, Rabies tells the story of a runaway brother and sister, a group of tennis players who get lost en route to a match, a pair of emotionally unsound cops, and a state park evaluator and his dog. Oh, and a serial killer, let’s not forget about him. These people all wind up, through pure happenstance, in the same remote forest at the same time. And prepare to feel like a particularly click-bait-y site is writing this review, because what happens next may surprise you. 

Writer-directors Navot Papushado & Aharon Keshales have repeatedly said their film is an allegory for the political situation of their country, and it’s not hard to see that once the blood begins to run. But, as is the case with many horror allegories, it gets a lot more interesting once you go past the overt intent and look at what’s beneath. I would strongly recommend this film to any horror aficionados, before I launch into the standard spoiler warning. Go see the movie, then come back and let’s talk. 

...Okay. I can honestly say I’ve never before seen a horror movie in which the ostensible maniac killer is knocked unconscious in the first act, and spends the entire film out of commission. It’s a brilliantly unpredictable, one that frees up the movie to deal with its real subject, namely, the latent violence hiding within everyday people. Once the supposed murderer is waylaid, Rabies unfolds with the force of its conviction—specifically, the idea that violence begets violence, and humans (especially male humans) are hardwired to escalate tense situations past the point of repair. One of the cops turns out to be a sadistic maniac, much more disturbing than any killer. The two male tennis players turn on each other, The brother, thinking he’s rescuing his sister, ends up killing the benevolent guy trying to help her. The girls kill in self-defense, but the psychological toll of the violence shreds their emotional capacities to handle the situation. One dies needlessly and senselessly in a literal minefield. By the end, the only ones left are barely functional, save for the killer, who wakes up frustrated and angry that his fellow countrymen aren’t coming to his aid. 

Take Night Of The Living Dead and double down on the philosophy and black comedy, and you’re getting somewhere close. Well played, Rabies. Well played, indeed. 

If I were to get into the psychoanalytic meaning of the film, I’d start talking about Lacan’s sinthome, but in the interest of clarity, let’s talk about how this movie shows the impossible kernel at the heart of violence. People act in ways that are completely unbelievable, and yet track perfectly with the impossibility actions of reality. There are moments when you can’t believe how insane nearly every character behaves,  but it never feels outside the realm of human potential. Horror has always excelled at demonstrating the failings of the human psyche, but Rabies gives those failings a twist, separating them completely from any malevolent forces outside ourselves, and placing the blame squarely at the audience. In that sense, it’s more like a wittier version of Michael Haneke’s Funny Games: a film wherein the rules of not only the genre, but cinema itself are twisted, reworked to convey something darker about the nature of our lesser angels. Plus, it’s far from hectoring; Rabies is smarter and sharper than most slasher films, while being darker than nearly all of them. 

The title suggests something infectious, the way that violence can be transferred from person to person, once they’ve experienced it. It fits smartly into the filmmakers’ vision, and provides a neat counterpoint to the standard horror thesis that we are only moved to violence by horrific forces outside our control. Papushado and Kushales invert the standard narrative, and in the process offer some exciting and tense cinema, that gets the pulse racing precisely because it continually zigs where you expect it to zag. Once we’re touched by violence, it doesn’t force us outside our comfort zone. It leads us to what we already have designs on. Bleak, yes—original? Absolutely catching.