This Geek in Netflix: Ils

At the Silent House press conference a couple of weeks ago, its ladying lady, Elizabeth Olsen, mentioned her current favorite horror movie, a French flick called Ils. (Translation: take a goddamned French class, people! I can’t do all of your work for you.) With much curiosity, I queued it up and, days later, I’m still not quite sure how to feel about it.

There’s not a good deal to say on the film’s background. While there’s several reviews on IMDB and a middling score on Rotten Tomatoes, this movie doesn’t seem like it really entered the festival circuit or make much of an attempt (any attempt?) at the box office.

The actors are, as they tend to be in European movies, European and therefore foreign to ye old readership here at Geekscape. Not saying that you’re ignorant. Just saying that I’m ignorant and, so as not to feel so alone, projecting my ignorance onto you. It’s a bonding experience, really. Don’t you feel closer to me already?

American-centric knowledge-base-wise (I’m not sure how I feel about that phrasing.  How do you feel about it?  Comfortable?), the only real recognizable entities on this film are the directors (who also functioned as the writers), David Moreau and Xavier Palud, who directed the American version of The Eye (you know, that flick with Jennifer Lo–, er, Jessica Alba), which wasn’t that great.

The movie starts off with the heading:

Snagov, Romania October 6, 2002 11:45p.m.

I like it when movies have a time-stamp. Makes me feel secure. Anyhow, after the time-stamp, we start with a mother and cunty daughter driving along a road at night, perfectly peaceful (oh, that’s a lie) until a strange goat-like shape darts in front of the car.

Okay, it wasn’t a goat. Could have been a person. Possibly both. A goat-person.

They go nose-first into some sort of pole, which somehow causes their radio to turn on and blast some annoying metal. When they try to re-start their car and leave, the engine won’t turn so the mother gets out, pops the hood, and fiddles with the engine.

Apparently there was a crossover with Sliders going on at the same time, as she was sucked into a portal. Or something. Basically, she vanishes, leaving her cunty daughter to plod around the car calling for her like a sad little sheep… until the bushes whisper a response.

She does the smart thing (hurrah!) and bolts into the car, rolls up the windows, locks the door, and discovers that the keys are gone. Someone outside beeps the car to unlock, so Cunty Dwarf grabs her cell phone and calls the police. Who put her on hold. And it starts raining.

Then the car explodes. It’s really tragic. The phone goes flying from the vehicle and the last thing that we see before we cut to the opening credits is a tiny hand wrapping around the phone as the police dispatcher finally picks up.

I might have made that all up. I’m kinda in a mood. A mood where I make things up. Or this may be made up. YOU’LL NEVER KNOW UNLESS YOU WATCH THE MOVIE! BWAHAHAHA!

Cut to the next day. We are introduced to Clementine, hottie French teacher, as she wraps up for the afternoon and begins her drive home, complete with sexy little phone call to her husband, Lucas, and rubbernecking at the abandoned vehicle last seen with Cunty Dwarf.

After a few scenes of domestic bliss with her husband, Clementine curls up on the couch to go through her students’ work. However, before she gets too far in, the phone rings. The noises on the other end are indistinguishable.

At 3:45AM, she wakes up, hearing strange noises outside, and selfishly wakes her sleeping husband so they can check on the noises together as opposed to letting him continue to sleep like she would if she actually loved him. On my planet, that’s grounds for a divorce right there.

Anyhow, they manage to stumble their way downstairs to discover that Clementine’s car has been moved. See, that’s what kids do these days. Forget toilet papering, it’s all about car relocation.

When Lucas goes to confront the car, it pulls a Herbie the Love Bug and drives off into the night. Being intelligent people that were clearly designed for an indie romance rather than a horror movie, they call the cops (which turn out to be useless) and decide to deal with it in the morning.

Then the lights go out.

Too much of a cliffhanger for you? Are your fingers tightly wrapped around the arms of your chair? Mine would be, but I’m in bed. And typing. I’m not the mutant with four arms that you think me to be.

Eventually, the monster is revealed (finally, a movie to break the recent streak of showing me the big bad by the three-minute mark!) and the audience is left to mull over, well, everything. This movie takes a very common beast, one that features in a surprising number of horror films, and puts a strong slant on it, forcing it at the viewer at a new angle that they didn’t necessarily expect.

Monster-digestion aside, it’s a little hard for me to make fun of this movie. It’s not that it’s fantastic– it certainly doesn’t reach the level of The Orphanage, nor is it mediocre in such a way that causes a lack of commentary. It was just the right mix of story, isolation, and disturbing claustrophobic imagery that ultimately caused me a sort of unsettled discontent.

The “seven days…” call I received after viewing this film certainly didn’t help my comfort level, either.

So, if you want something that deviates from your standard horror plot and digs itself into your bones, not so much on a fear level as much as with actual horror (in the way that we no longer use that word), Ils might be for you. Just ignore the shitty video quality Netflix gives you with this one.