In a cinematic age dominated by tentpoles and “influencers,” it’s refreshing to visit the world of film festivals, where one can still find content that’s authentically transgressive. I’m certain that some fans encountered the madness that is The Night of the Virgin (La Noche de Virgen) at the Fantasia Film Festival this past weekend. Roberto San Sebastián’s visceral, inverted homage to occult thrillers follows in the tradition of low-budget movies that push bodily functions and human behavior to the limit. Does that make it good? It depends on what you’re looking for. Considering the levels to which this film goes, some people would be advised against looking at all.
We begin with awkward, lonely Nico (played with a weird but oddly sweet charm by Javier Bódalo), who seeks to lose his virginity on New Year’s Eve. He’s about to give up when he encounters the serpentine seductress Medea (Miriam Martín). Nico follows her home, but instead of celebratory sex, he receives a bizarre lecture about Nepalese goddess Naoshi and finds a cup of menstrual blood in the bathroom. Things go from bad to worse when Medea’s jealous boyfriend arrives, trapping Nico in the apartment with the steadily-growing suspicion that Naoshi is far from a myth.
From the outset, this film is weird—puke-covered shoes, crunchy bugs, and erotic knee-licking all occur in the first 20 minutes. The unsettling score and production design, grimy and insect-infested, all scream retro midnight movie. The extent of the mayhem is hard to predict at first, though. Its colorful and playful (but not pretty) photography calls to mind La Grande Belleza, if that film took a dangerous turn toward the wrong side of town. The early murmurings of mythology are almost poetic. What begins as a slightly poetic look at loneliness, however, slowly and confidently devolves into pure midnight trash.
The film’s most obvious flaw is its length. Things develop so patiently over the first hour that many midnight fans may lose interest by the time stuff starts to splatter. Even the nasty bits are drawn out to absurd lengths (was that crowning scene filmed in real time?). But, nasty as they are, the film’s climactic moments are awe-inspiringly disgusting. The movie is notable, too, for its inversion of occult horror tropes that pervaded the genre in the ’70s; this time the virgin is a dude. By the time the two hours have traversed, we’ve gone through nihilistic comedy, cult thriller, and pure body horror, with some honestly creepy moments to punctuate the gut-cleansing gore.
Is gross interesting, though? It’s hard to tell. Even midnight cinema has standards. Night isn’t as inventive as Steve Ellison’s mind-boggling Kuso, nor as utterly transcendent as We Are the Flesh. But it fits the mold regardless, and it’s clearly crafted with visual skill. Midnight cinema has always been about the marginalized, the “other,” and this film’s premise will speak to anyone who’s been lonely enough to go home with someone they regret. These notions are largely thrown to the wayside by the end in favor of explosive bodily fluids, however.
Love it or hate it (or both), The Night of the Virgin is a filthy creation of its own. This is what the filmmakers intended, no matter how heinous. It’s the kind of film that will make you feel dirty, taken to dark corners of depravity that you wouldn’t dare tread in reality; and there’s something to be said for a work of fiction that can so fully transport you. But it’s not a pleasant experience by any means. If it’s what you’re looking for, be grateful for festivals like Fantasia for giving it a home. Just don’t eat—or make love—beforehand.
Movie Score: 3/5
NSFW Teaser Trailer:
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