Krvavá pani

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DIRECTED BY: Viktor Kubal

FEATURING: Voice of Jela Lukesová

PLOT: A young maiden transforms into a sadistic lady after a short affair leaves her heartbroken, and the myth of Erzsébet Báthory, the Blood Countess, is born.

COMMENTS: It starts innocently, with vivid and warm color palettes, visual gags, and a young princess dancing and playing with the forest animals, like something out of a Disney movie. But do not be fooled; this lady is Elizabeth Bathory, and things will suddenly take a turn for the grim, the weird, and the macabre.

When the young girl falls sick while in the forest, a peasant takes her under his protection and care. Something akin to love blossoms. But this love is doomed to remain unrequited, as the princess will have to return to the palace eventually, leaving behind as a memento… her heart.

This slightly grotesque gesture is not  only a symbol of her love and devotion towards the peasant, it underlines the grief their separation brings. With the gift she becomes figuratively and literally heartless. She stops caring about others—people or animals—and her hardened feelings transform her gradually into a cruel beast, finding comfort and joy only in tormenting others.

The drawings, till this point vibrantly recalling 60s and 70s psychedelia, grow darker with and an ominous night color palette emerges.  Like the mythical Snow Queen, our heroine develops cruel instincts as a way to cope with her frustrations. She turns into what we would call “evil”, although she is never just a caricature, retaining her humanity even in the movie’s most WTF moments.

She turns a servant into a pawn for her evil doings. His job will be to seduce young virgins and lure them inside the castle, where the countess awaits ready to turn them into a bloodbath for her own pleasure and self-care. More murders and mayhem follow, climaxing in a suggestive scene combining nudity, seduction, and sharp nipples.

Although dialogue is mostly absent, the soundscape is a major part of the world-building. Orchestral music, often melancholic and with a slow tempo,  introduces us to the darkest moments of our tale. Psalms, resembling satanic calls, accompany the grotesqueries. And everything culminates in a deeply lyrical ending.

This is not a sensationalist portrait of the legend of Bathory, but one that strives to find her humanity. Humans are revealed as deeply flawed creatures, but with a prospect of salvation sometimes—but not always. The story can be considered as a parable, an allegorical commentary on the perpetual fight of good vs evil inside our psyche. The Countess’ young servant, a dirty-looking dark-haired man, is a symbol of impure evil. The blond, angelic peasant Elizabeth fell in love with at the first place is a vessel of light, a messenger of bliss and pure good—even when he fails to make a difference.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“[Kubal’s] trademark style involving very simple lines, shapes, and colors was first put to use in commercials and child-friendly short subjects, but here he lends it to something much stranger and darker that feels like a Saturday morning cartoon splashed with nudity and blood.”–Nathaniel Thompson, Mondo Digital (Blu-ray)