Drenched in blood and cloaked in the fine drapery of Greek mythology, Travis Stevens’ indie horror feature A Wounded Fawn sweeps into the Tribeca with an unexpected twist on a familiar plot line. Stevens manages to make a stripped-down, modest set of locations with a small, intimate cast feel like a decadent descent into the madness and mysticism that movie-making is capable of conjuring up.
A Wounded Fawn opens in an auction house as a contentious bidding war is underway for a gorgeous bronze statue depicting the Wrath of the Erinys—a trio of goddesses that enact justice on behalf of victims. As Bruce (Josh Ruben) looks on, the auctioneer explains what each figure represents, unaware that these three goddesses will soon be called upon to deliver the justice that he deserves. Megara, the grudging, Alecto, the unceasing, and Tisiphone, punisher of murderers. The script, penned by Stevens and Nathan Faudree, smartly finds ways to incorporate Greek mythology naturally into the dialogue and exposition, providing its audience with key pieces of plot-relevant information without overwhelming them with the minutiae of it all.
Like Mimi Cave’s meat-cute Fresh, Bruce lures in the sweet, unsuspecting museum curator Meredith (Sarah Lind) with his boy-next-door looks and charm, and invites her on a weekend getaway to his secluded art-deco cabin. Little does she know that lurking beneath that disarming appearance is a sinister and twisted man, who believes that a red owl is compelling him to kill beautiful women. But Bruce should have thought twice about trying to kill a museum curator whose thesis was on deconstructing the myth of the museum. Comparisons between Fresh and A Wounded Fawn come to an end once Bruce and Meredith move beyond dinner and dancing to old records. Once Meredith realizes what Bruce is capable of—thanks to one of her friends looking up the Wrath of Erinys statue in his collection—the full breadth of Bruce’s neurosis comes into focus.
By design, Ruben is required to do a lot of the heavy lifting throughout the film, and he rises to meet the challenge at every turn. He spends long swaths of time tormented by seen—and unseen specters—and the twisted madness that overtakes him is almost too believable. Gone is the goofy man that we first met in College Humor sketches in the mid-aughts, he has been replaced with a bonafide actor who can tap into madness almost as flawlessly as the likes of The Boys’ Antony Starr. It’s a jarring, sinister shift that makes the final moments of the film even sweeter. Additionally, Lind and Malin Barr give strong performances as they are transformed into harbingers of justice.
A Wounded Fawn is split into three carefully denoted acts and with each act, Stevens unleashes an impressive array of visual delights, utilizing practical effects to convey lore-rich ideas, explore gender-based violence, and deliver a truly delicious dose of justice. The way he threads Greek mythology into nearly every aspect of the film is a marvelous thing, but the real glory comes from how he connects the opening auction scene with the final act and builds towards that culmination. This is the kind of twisted surrealism-meets-mythological revelry that more horror should embrace. Greek mythology, and mythology as a whole, is filled with horrifying stories that can easily act as the base for more modern journeys.
Stevens’ stylistic choices with the film only add to the vibrant atmosphere; the lo-fi, grainy feel creates a sort of 70s aesthetic that meshes nicely with the otherworldly descent into Bruce’s twisted psyche and the goddesses that enact their justice against him. At first, when the red light bleeds through into an unexpected moment in Bruce’s life, and the red owl urges him to kill his unsuspecting victim, it feels at odds with the world being constructed around him, but then the audience is plunged head-first into the mayhem as the layers get stripped away and everything is brought into the daylight.
Between Fresh and A Wounded Fawn, there seems to be an emerging trend in 2022 of cautionary tales, warning women to steer clear of the dating game. Or at least don’t go on weekend getaways to secluded cabins with men you don’t really know. The violence against women in Stevens’ film may be brutal and uncomfortable, but it never feels perverse or voyeuristic. Bruce is never painted with sympathy or compassion, and he spends the better part of the final act brutally tormented and haunted by his crimes against women, and becomes the victim of his own madness.
A Wounded Fawn is an impressive exploration of Greek mythology through a modern horror lens, blending real-world gender-based violence with the swift and damning justice of the Furies. On the heels of Girl on the Third Floor and Jakob’s Wife, Stevens continues to prove that he is one of the best indie horror directors to emerge into the mainstream. He has a deft understanding of the genre and is keenly aware of when to dole out jumpscares, visual cues, and just the right amount of gore to delight horror lovers who favor psychological thrillers just as much as bloody horror.
Rating: A
A Wounded Fawn made its world premiere during Tribeca’s Midnight program. The film will be available to watch on Shudder this December.