Delpy’s The Countess

Her notorious beauty regimen still inspires horror films to this day. This is not necessarily one of them, even though it tells the story of Elizabeth Bathory. Director, screenwriter, and star Julie Delpy tries to give the Bathory story a feminist spin, but since she still bathes on the blood of virgins, it is not so persuasive. Regardless, Bathory definitely gets the benefit of modern revisionism in Delpy’s The Countess, which screens Tuesday as part of the Film Fantastique: Lust and Blood series at the New York FIAF.

Erzsebet Bathory was betrothed at birth to Count Ferenc Nasady, whom she never really cares for, but since he is away most of the time fighting the Turks, the arrangement largely suits her. She spends much of her time with Anna Darvulia, her alchemical advisor and sometimes lesbian lover. After Nasady’s untimely death (perhaps poisoned by the king, who was much in the Count’s debt), Bathory is pursued by the powerful Count Gyorgy Thurzo, but she prefers the romantic company of his son Istvan (the future rector of University of Wittenberg, the one in Germany).

Thanks to the Count Thurzo’s machinations, Bathory unfairly believes her lover has spurned her. This sends her spiraling into madness, marked by a toxic vanity. Blaming her wrinkles for her misery, she happens upon a macabre solution after beating an unfortunate servant (thanks to the splatter). The subsequent horrors she commits will make her a legend. They also make her vulnerable to Count Thurzo’s power play.

Istvan Thruzo’s “history is written by the victors” wrap-around narration suggests the entire Bathory legend might be a fabrication, but the murders and bloodlettings Delpy depicts graphically suggest otherwise. Surely, a feminist re-telling of Bathory tale must sympathize first and foremost with her young, virginal victim, whose peasant-status made them easy prey for the Countess, right? Right? (Just like feminists should be screaming in outrage at the way Hamas viciously weaponized sexual violence against innocent Israeli women and children? Right? Right??)

Yet, except for the Thurzo’s voiceovers, there is little that inspires sympathy for Bathory. In fact, it is an intriguing performance by Delpy, precisely because it is so cold-blooded, so to speak. Frankly, this film would have worked better if it leaned into the horror of her mass-murder more forcefully. Arguably, Delpy mismatched her great performance of merciless villainy with a contemporary pseudo-feminist, anti-establishment screenplay. Ironically, by embracing this perspective, she does herself a great disservice as a thesp.

As Bathory, she is definitely the focal point of the film, but Daniel Bruhl humanizes young Thurzo to a surprising extent. Mean old Count Thurzo is a cliched power-hungry rogue, but at least the late, great William Hurt acts like he is enjoying all the scheming.

The Countess has its problems, but it is an impressive looking period production, especially Kriebstein Castle is Saxony, which was used for exterior shots. It must be one of the most evil and severe looking Medieval strongholds ever constructed. This is a flawed film, perhaps at conception, but it is somehow weirdly watchable. It might even be the sort of film you revisit repeatedly over time, hoping it has improved with the passage of time (most likely in vain). Fans of Bathory films (and related Carmilla horror) will be interested, but should keep their expectation in check, when it screens twice at FIAF this Tuesday (12/12) (and it streams on Tubi).