’Megalomaniac’ review: Dir. Karim Ouelhaj [Fantasia]

Director Karim Ouelhaj has brought the darkness to this year’s Fantasia International Film Festival. Fantasia champions some of the newest genre films on the market, and is never afraid to push the boundaries of taste and comfort. Of this year’s crop of movies, Ouelhaj’s Megalomaniac is certainly one of the most unsettling. 

The Belgium film is drowned in despair. Right from its opening scrawl, which tells of the serial killer – the Butcher of Mons, there’s a foreboding tinge to the atmosphere. The first sequence presents glances of the Butcher at work interspersed with the birth of a baby. After this aggressive beginning, which gives the senses a knock, the story moves forward in time. Here the viewer joins Martha (Eline Schumacher) and Félix (Benjamin Ramon), the children of the Butcher of Mons. Their father was never apprehended and so the pair live in relative obscurity; both are burdened by their legacy. As the Butcher’s heir, Félix has been compelled to continue in the family business and regularly kills women in the area. Martha is aware of her brother’s ‘profession’, but chooses to ignore it, favouring an escape into social media. This changes in the wake of a brutal assault at work, and as Martha descends into madness, her latent ability for cruelty starts to shine.

In Megalomaniac, Ouelhaj explores the lines between victim and tormentor, predator and prey, and how each of us possesses the potential to be both. Our first introduction to Martha is of a woman who is completely defeated. Outside of her cleaning job at the local factory she doesn’t seem to have anything going on. Being raised by a serial killer, one who targeted women, has done nothing for her self-esteem. Her woman-hating patriarch has instilled similar ideals into her and she sees herself as ugly and fat. In early moments we see her berating herself and a cake – the cake for trying to seduce her, and herself for being tempted. She then forces herself to eat the entire cake, a punishment for her urges. This behaviour is a form of self-flagellation, and is just one of many instances of how Martha lives her life. 

At work Martha is bullied and teased by several of her male co-workers. The words thrown at her are vile and Martha does her best to just ignore them, but the bullying builds to an actual attack. The assault itself is as horrific to endure for the viewer as it is for Martha. It happens in near silence, all attention on the deed; the discomfort levels through the roof. After witnessing this cruel action the audience are fully drawn into Martha and are sympathetic to her plight. What follows after this though causes that allegiance to shift. Megalomaniac is not your typical rape and revenge film; Martha doesn’t immediately go on the hunt for her colleagues. Instead she shifts into something cruel, allowing Félix to catch herself a pet to torment. During these scenes all of Martha’s pent up self-hate is unfurled unto her victim and so sympathy moves from her to her prey. It’s an interesting tightrope to walk and throws up complicated conflicts within the audience. 

The vicious nature of Martha and Félix is replicated within the dank surroundings of their unloved abode. Their home feels almost Gothic, pushing the story into ever darker corners. The colour palate is kept muted with cold greys and shadowy blacks. This highlights the cold and unfeeling nature of these siblings whilst giving the viewer no respite to the anguish on display. 

A confronting and uncomfortable film, Megalomaniac will get conversations started. Does violence beget violence? Is cruelty a result of nature or nurture? Just how much would it take for us to be pushed down similar routes? And is anyone ever truly just a victim? It’s a lot to digest and muse on, but this makes Megalomaniac a tempting, if not rather traumatic, prospect for those who like a challenging film.

Megalomaniac was reviewed at Fantasia International Film Festival.