Based on Kathy Stuart’s historical research on 1750s Austria, The Devil’s Bath is a deeply grim and haunting examination of mental health during a time in which discussions on it were taboo. Austrian directing duo Veronika Franz and Severin Fiala are the masterminds behind this psychological drama that borrows from the horror genre. It’s no wonder their latest is nearly perfection, as the directors behind Goodnight Mommy (2014) and The Lodge (2019) know exactly how to build an unsettling atmosphere. With stunning visuals and sequences that will make you churn, their latest is relentlessly bleak yet capable of piercing your heart emotionally.

According to Stuart’s research, suicidal people (mostly women) feared the eternal damnation they were taught followed. So, they sought alternative means to end their suffering. They would commit heinous crimes then confess to their priests in hopes of being forgiven then publicly executed in order to reach salvation. The Devil’s Bath shows the psychological turmoil one woman faced that pushed her to the brink of “suicide by proxy.” Franz and Fiala don’t just give insight into depression. They wholeheartedly deliver an overwhelmingly melancholiac experience capable of changing your entire mood.

The Devil’s Bath is utterly dismal yet thought-provoking.

Agnes (Anja Plaschg) has been recently married to her love Wolf (David Scheid). On their jubilant day, a plethora of wedding traditions and dancing gives her hope that their marriage will start off well. With the pressures of society, Agnes is eager to please her husband and shine in her new domesticated roles. However, Wolf is seemingly uninterested in making a baby, and his overbearing mother (Maria Hofstätter) nitpicks at Anges’ every move. As she struggles to deal with her growing pains of isolation and mental anguish, Agnes plots a plan to end her suffering for good.

Directors Franz and Fiala crafted an intense character study that expands beyond the average period piece and/or psychological drama. Truthfully, The Devil’s Bath is a dismal dissection of religious submission, duty, and depression. Through Agnes, the filmmakers demonstrate the unrelenting pressures of religion and how it ultimately impacts the mental health. Agnes already feels the urgency to bear a child for her husband all while adapting to her new work and home life. When she is unable to live up to everyone’s expectations, she’s overcome with depression yet receives no help for it.

[The directors] deliver an overwhelmingly melancholiac experience capable of changing your entire mood.

Unfortunately, this is the 1750s. For Agnes, that means everyone around her, including Wolf, her mother-in-law, and friends avoid talking about her depressive state altogether and merely claim that she will get better. If the problems we see regarding mental health in today’s society are any clue as to how people back then may have felt, I can understand why people forsake prayers and took matters into their own hands.

Franz & Fiala’s directing builds a grim ambiance that pierces your soul.

At the brink of her undoing, Agnes conjures a plan to end her torment. At this pivot point in the film, Franz and Fiala dial up the ferocity in their visual storytelling. What was once a slow character study quickly evolved into a somber sequence of unfortunate events to represent a woman’s mental ruination. The directors refuse to hold back with the violence and shocking imagery that ensues. Pushing the boundaries of the genre, The Devil’s Bath pierces every bit of your soul, inducing the turmoil you’d desperately try to avoid.

Of course, this film isn’t just about depression as a consequence of isolation and not meeting life’s expectations. It’s an examination of religious extremism that leaves you flooded with a great surplus of empathy for whoever had to withstand such adversities during this time. Anja Plaschg’s nuanced performance, in particular, demands your attention from beginning to end. Her evolution in the film is what we’d curiously watch on screen but hope to never experience even 10% of what her character does.

Pushing the boundaries of the genre, The Devil’s Bath pierces every bit of your soul, inducing the turmoil you’d desperately try to avoid.

It goes without saying, but The Devil’s Bath is the kind of film you may only want/need to watch once. But that’s all it takes to leave a lasting impression. The storytelling is engrossing in that you can’t look away despite all the disturbing occurrences on screen. And with the piercing score to match Franz and Fiala’s gloomy directing style, the atmosphere is set up for us to think deeply about the consequences of untreated depression. This is certainly one to add to the top of your watchlist.

The Devil’s Bath premiered at the 2024 Tribeca Film Festival. Check out the trailer below: