Film Review: Martyrs (2008)

Much like Elem Klimov’s World War II epic Come and See or Andrzej Żuławski’s completely psychotic Possession, I find it difficult to recommend Pascal Laugier’s Martyrs to average moviegoers, even if I think it’s one of the best horror films ever made. That’s not to say I don’t think people should see it — in fact, if you’re a horror fan, I highly suggest you do see it — but should you decide to pull the trigger, be warned, this is one disturbing movie. 

Since its French release in 2008 (avoid at all costs the 2015 American remake), Martyrs has made a lot of “best of” lists, and for good reason. Where even the best mainstream horror often only succeeds in momentary bursts of fear-inducing tension through a mixture of jump scares and viscera, Martyrs sustains an uncomfortably high level of heart-pounding anxiety throughout its entire runtime, mostly due to the completely and utterly unpredictable nature of its narrative. At every turn, Laugier heaps a shocking surprise upon us, and every surprise is a bloody revelation.

But it isn’t Laugier’s reliance on violence, gore, or even menacing half-seen creatures that makes his film such a terrifying experience. What makes Martyrs so unique is a relentless sense of demoralizing nihilism that hangs over every frame. From the barbarity of the film’s opening scenes to the extreme violence that leads us into the second act, and all the way through to the bitter end, Martyrs continually hammers home the notion that our existence, physical and spiritual, is not just corrupt but insignificant. It’s suggesting that, quite possibly, life and death are meaningless in the eyes of a God who left us behind long ago.

However, what fuels this cynicism isn’t simply a director’s impulse to shock or disgust. Martyrs possesses an intelligence not often found in the horror genre, one rooted much more in a desire to ask hard questions about morality and faith than to comment or criticize. If this is the case, it could be argued that Martyrs is an extreme companion piece to Krzysztof Kieślowski’s Dekalog, a ten-part series often considered by critics — and even the Catholic Church — to be one of the best analyses of the human condition ever put on film.

While the extremities of Martyrs certainly conflict with the down-to-earth earnestness of Dekalog when it comes to style and presentation, their themes remain surprisingly compatible. Each film attempts to examine what it means to be a moral person in a distinctly immoral world, and whether that is even possible given the confines of our learned and shared experiences. Both films are powerhouses of emotional conveyance, with the only difference being that one is deliberately jarring while the other is slow and methodical. Each, however, gets into your soul and stays there for a while, and when a film can do that, it’s worth paying attention to. To that end, if you can find it in yourself to see past Laugier’s distressing displays of cruelty, Martyrs is one hell of a critique of human behavior in the face of suffering.