Year: 2016 (U.S. release)
Director(s): David Rühm
Writer(s): David Rühm
Region of Origin: Austria
Aspect Ratio: 1.85:1
Rating: Unrated
Digital, Color, 87 mins
Synopsis: Sigmund Freud’s newest patient is a vampire fed up with his undying relationship with his wife. (Source)
We only want what we can’t have. It’s the wit behind this eternal truth that David Rühm’s Therapy for a Vampire embraces with perverse, unabashed glee. With its smart use of vampire lore and resplendent visuals, Rühm’s film is a feast for the senses, setting up a Freudian battle of the sexes that is as much cheeky as it is poignant. Contrasting its love of bloody, undead hijinks with the spiraling folly of two criss-crossed couples, the film is irresistible from start to finish, resulting in a genre-bending blast of charm and vibrancy.
In 1932 Vienna, the centuries-old marriage of vampires Count von Kozsnom (Tobias Moretti) and Countess Elsa von Kozsnom (Jeanette Hain) has lost its appeal, pitting the bickering lovers into an endless cycle of boredom and disdain. Kozsnom, unable to cope, seeks the council of Dr. Sigmund Freud (Karl Fischer), discovering in his office the painting of a woman who strongly resembles a past love. Held in rapture by the mysterious woman, he tracks her down, leading him to Lucy (Cornelia Ivancan). Lucy is going through a spate of relationship troubles herself, conflicted by her boyfriend Viktor’s (Dominic Oley) subconscious and unrealistic fantasies of her, which she fails to live up to. Count Kozsnom sees providence, attempting to pawn the Countess off to struggling artist Viktor through the guise of getting a portrait made (since she longs to see herself again but doesn’t have a reflection), while the Count tries to sweep Lucy off her feet, enacting an ancient prophecy that will satiate his lust for the past.
What makes Rühm’s comedy of errors so seductive, is the way he’s rapidly colliding and contrasting two different worlds, that of the Count and Countess and of Lucy and Viktor, both struggling to come to grips with their jilted lovers. Rühm of course finds a weight and poignancy through the spaces in which their relationships and existential crises unwittingly converge. As they each deal with the imperfections of their couplings together and apart, Rühm’s manipulation of his characters is masterful and infectious, brimming with intelligence and even subtle nuance. Anything that can go wrong, hilariously does, throwing at us a plot full of mistaken identities, the occasional feast of blood and incompetent, scheming men, adding up to a spectacular explosion of Freudian subtext we can’t look away from. Ultimately, it’s the women who shine and come into their own, realizing the way they’re being deceived and deciding for themselves who they want to be, not what the men in their lives wish they were.
Adding to the film’s unpredictable plot are the smart details Rühm uses to create a tangible world for his bloodsuckers. Martin Gschlacht’s photography is drenched in sensuality, replete with decadent colors and rich shadows, at times isolating characters in moody darkness or highlighting them with striking contrast. The production design by Andreas Sobotka and Monika Buttinger’s costumes are elegant, outfitting the characters with an old-fashioned glamour that speaks to the lavish lifestyles at play. Rühm also pokes fun at the genre and celebrates the resourcefulness of his vampires by staging their scenes in a kinetic way, allowing them to disappear and suddenly reappear within and between each frame to show off their powers, turning simple conversations into disorienting, energetic fits of splendor. This heightened reality is fun, and from minute-to-minute, creates a sense of excitement that you don’t want to see end.
Across the board, the performances are equally strong. As the Count, Tobias Moretti fits the archetype; charming, handsome and mysterious, but also with a mischievous edge and troubled sense of turmoil. As the neurotic, Viktor, Dominic Oley is a nice contrast to Moretti, not as confident, yet well-meaning, even if he can’t see how a skewed view of reality is ruining things between the one he loves. It’s the women who steal the show however, with Jeanette Hain’s Countess and Cornelia Ivancan’s Lucy delivering commanding performances that are sharp and inescapable. As the Countess, Hain, replete with a Louise Brooks-bob and a glint in her eye portrays a visual ferocity that sharply contrasts with the lost soul within. There’s a longing and pain that accompanies her wit, and it’s this brand of seductive desperation that Hain embodies to perfection. As Lucy, Ivancan is in many ways the heart and soul of the film, going through an identity crisis in which she’s trying to figure out who she wants to be. Ivancan has a natural spring to her step and a no-nonsense attitude that makes us want to cheer for her. Each performer brings with them a pitch-perfect sense of straight-laced comedic timing, bouncing off of each other in ways which keep the film’s rhythm upbeat.
Therapy for Vampire injects new blood into the vampire story, exploring the tragic implications of living forever through a satiric look at the trials which make any relationship sink or swim. Blending unbridled romanticism with touches of eroticism, repressed feelings and irreverent humor, the film explores coming to grips with both the good and bad of our partners, showing that love isn’t about perfection, but about the things we choose to accept. You can come for the vampires or the slapstick absurdity, both have bite and will leave you wanting more.
SG
