The concept of the “dark web” has become a wellspring for horror films in the last decade or so; not surprising given the role that the internet plays in our lives. The idea of this seemingly everyday part of our lives having a vast and unseen underbelly that could contain all sorts of strange and sinister things is rather unsettling, like finding out the host of a beloved children’s tv show was secretly a child murderer. Pascal Plante’s Les Chambres Rouges (English: Red Rooms) is a film that seeks to take the viewer to the brink of the void and have them take a long hard look into its depths.
Les Chambres Rouges is the story of Kellyanne, a fashion model in Montreal who attends the trial of accused serial killer Ludovic Chevalier. Chevalier stands accused of murdering three young woman on camera to sell the footage on the dark web as part of the (presumed mythical) “Red Room” murders, which are exactly what they sound like: people being murdered on live stream for the highest bidders to watch. Modern day snuff films, in other words. Kellyanne soon becomes obsessed with the case, befriending a fellow attendee and self-proclaimed Chevalier groupie Clementine and dressing in such a way that resembles the pictures of the victims presented to the jury.
This film is a tough watch, not just because it deals with some brutal concepts but also because it doesn’t really function in a traditional narrative. There’s no real plot aside from Kellyanne finding herself becoming more and more fascinated with the killings, and if a viewer is expecting a more solid story to emerge, they might find themselves disappointed. However, this meandering feeling doesn’t equate to the film being unfocused or “about nothing”; Plante absolutely is saying something through the film about the concept of our dependence on technology and our fascination with true crime and the weird celebritization of serial killers. But the film feels like it’s focusing more on mood and atmosphere than any actual story, choosing to instead create an incessant feeling of rushing towards something, of there being some kind of great and dreadful gathering just beneath the surface of everything. It’s a tremendously satisfying, albeit a touch unorthodox.
Juliette Gariepy’s performance as Kellyanne is absolutely the bedrock of the film. Gariepy gives us a character who while highly competent is not entirely unshakeable, a combination of traits that pays dividends in creating the tone of a film seeking to move someone who is typically unmoved. She serves as a fitting audience surrogate as well, finding herself more and more unsettled the deeper she digs, even as she becomes more and more obsessed. Laurie Babin as the “fangirl” Clementine delivers a banger of a performance as well, creating a character who, while lacking any real backstory, is clearly a lost soul in search of someone (anyone) to latch on to and give the affection she has to give while also craving that same affection. She’s sweetly vulnerable yet obviously troubled. Her devotion to Chevalier is unhinged, yes, but as the film progresses and we see that same devotion begin to creep into her relationship with Gariepy’s Kellyane it’s delicious in a disquieting way. Maxwell McCabe-Lokos as the accused killer Chevalier, for his part, does a lot with very little. Much of his time on film is spent sitting motionless in court while either being railed against or defended, but even in that seeming idleness he brings a sense of coiled deadliness, like some sleeping predator that now is tranquil but is capable of great violence. The one moment we do see movement of his in court is…one of the highlights of the film, to say the least, a simple but unnerving moment that, once again, relies upon very little to deliver quite an impact.
Les Chambres Rouges might not be everyones cup of tea, but it’s worth a watch. It’s the kind of film that doesn’t grab the viewer by the neck and shove their face into something awful, but rather bluntly and simply asks the viewer to join it in gazing into the abyss in the hopes of something gazing back.
