If you go into The Devil’s Bath (German: Des Teufels Bad ) expecting jump scares or a demonic possession, you will be disappointed. But if you want a film that will lodge itself under your skin and fester—a slow, suffocating descent into historical truth—then directors Veronika Franz and Severin Fiala ( Goodnight Mommy , The Lodge ) have delivered a masterpiece of quiet dread.
The Devil’s Bath : The Horrifying Reality When 18th-Century Melancholy Met Motherhood The Devil-s Bath
Agnes’s journey is not a metaphor. It is a literal historical pattern. The film argues that a society that offers a woman no exit, no treatment, and no mercy will inevitably create monsters out of the miserable. The Devil’s Bath is a difficult watch. It is slow, heavy, and unflinching. If you need your horror to be fun, look elsewhere. But if you believe horror’s highest calling is to illuminate the darkest corners of human history and psychology, this is essential viewing. If you go into The Devil’s Bath (German:
Let’s talk about why this is one of the most unsettling films of the year, and why you’ll be thinking about it for weeks. Set in rural Austria in 1750, the film follows Agnes (an astonishing Anja Plaschg, aka musician Soap&Skin), a deeply sensitive and pious young woman who marries a cold, indifferent farmer. She dreams of a loving, romantic partnership. Instead, she gets a silent husband, a domineering mother-in-law, and a life of back-breaking labor, mud, and prayer. It is a literal historical pattern
Veronika Franz and Severin Fiala’s latest film is not a traditional horror movie. It’s something far more disturbing: a true-crime period piece about the agony of being a woman with no way out.