A Wounded Fawn (2022) Review

When Bruce (Josh Ruben) takes Meredith (Sarah Lind) for a romantic weekend getaway at his swanky place in the woods, he’s not so much planning to take their relationship to the next level as end it in a violent way. You see, Bruce is a serial killer and the only “plus one” he intends Meredith to be is the latest addition to his overall body count.

One lovingly prepared meal and excellent wine choice later, preparations are going swimmingly in Bruce’s kill pad until Meredith begins to hear noises and believes she’s seen someone outside the house. Bruce, of course, is initially more focused on bloody murder but is there a mysterious presence at work which is about to spoil his plans?

Very much like director Travis Stevens’ previous film The Girl On The Third Floor, this delivers another precisely aimed kick square in the groin of fragile, toxic masculinity. From early on in the proceedings, it’s clear that Bruce is an irredeemable monster, reacting to being outbid at an art auction in the most extreme manner possible. He is quick to blame everything and everyone else for the situations in which he finds himself, believing he is the superior being and should be absolved of all consequences of his destructive urges.

As Bruce, Josh Ruben’s performance balances on a blade edge, barely covering his underlying unhinged and rather pathetic nature with an urbane, cheery persona. Bruce is an awful guy and Ruben makes the viewer want him to get his comeuppance and then some, courtesy of his convincingly ridiculous narcissism and volatile behaviour.

In contrast, Lind’s sensitive, emotionally bruised Sarah is the perfect foil for her new beau’s undying love for himself. Her natural twitchiness in an unfamiliar environment is only exacerbated when she hears a female voice calling on the wind and things begin to go bump in the night. The screenplay, by Stevens and Nathan Faudree, doesn’t hang around in setting up the two-hander in the luxurious surroundings, before seemingly writing themselves into something of a corner before…well, you’ll need to experience where this one goes.

With vivid colours seeping into an aesthetic of 70s Euro thriller grain, plus a nightmarish construct called the Red Owl waiting to burst into shot at any moment, this isn’t a conventional approach to the usual killer versus potential victim set-up. Without giving too much away, there’s a helping of Greek mythology-based retribution to be doled out to our protagonist as the second half takes off into a realm of fantasy that doesn’t just threaten what little is left of Bruce’s sanity.

As schizophrenic as its murderous main character, A Wounded Fawn’s switches between the natural and the supernatural are purposely jarring, underlined by the scratches on the soundtrack which burst into brief, unsettling sonic assaults. Those hankering for a more grounded evolution of the plot may find their patience sorely tested by the second act of this (handily heralded by the words “Act Two” on screen) in which the pricey statuette that Bruce has pilfered from a previous slaughter informs the viewer exactly what furious fate is in store for him.

A curious mix of the arty, the bloody and the ghostly that doesn’t always gel as it should, there’s still no doubting the specific vision at work here and, even when the escalating proceedings threaten to lurch into gory slapstick late on, it’s all played dead straight which is to its credit. For all his ridiculous, macho posturing and lines such as “I understand your anger, but I won’t change a thing,” Bruce is, in the final analysis, an exaggerated take on the sort of man we all know and the real chills are provided by the reminder that there are many of these out there, willing to destroy women in order to assert their misplaced authority.

Skilfully capturing the awkwardness of a developing relationship within its opening stanza before plunging into villain-victim cat and mouse thriller and then hanging a sharp turn into territory of a very different sort, A Wounded Fawn may not grab anyone looking for a straightforward psycho flick but I found its innate oddness and willingness to play fast and loose with the boundaries of the possible to be the very aspects which kept the piece fresh and interesting. A fittingly uncanny score by Vaaal also assists greatly in accentuating the mind bending action.

Visually arresting, the production uses practical lighting effects and brilliantly designed costumes to create the wild sequences in which the consequences of Bruce’s killing spree spring to life vividly. Masks also feature prominently and not just as a means for portraying the obvious metaphor, adding another creepy facet to the outlandishness as the operatic climax grows ever closer.

Taking a familiar premise and then stripping it of almost every predicted twist and turn, A Wounded Fawn conceals its bludgeoning of the dangerously fragile male ego with a giallo-esque sheen and although it falls short of classic status, it’s never less than engaging in its own peculiar way and it wears its heart on its sleeve, championing female strength and handing them a pleasingly protracted revenge arc that would normally be the province of the square-jawed lunk who steps in to protect them and salve the conscience of blokes everywhere. It gives me immense pleasure to confirm that’s not to be found here. Watch and squirm, alpha males.

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