Shrew’s Nest (2014)
Starring Macarena Gomez, Nadia de Santiago, Luis Tosar, Hugo Silva
Directed by Juanfer Andrés and Esteban Roel
Álex de la Iglesia (The Last Circus, Witching and Bitching) presents this neurotic tale about a shy dressmaker and the younger sister that loves to hate her, but first-time directors Juanfer Andrés and Esteban Roel steer away from the infectious mania seen in Iglesia’s work to offer up a much quieter, more gradual descent into the macabre. Buttressed by a great central performance and flourishes of dark humor, one of the latest offerings from Spain’s growing horror collective, Shrew’s Nest, is a clear standout at Fantastic Fest this year.
As the film opens, Montse (Macarena Gómez) – a demure amateur seamstress – seems quite harmless as she fits wealthy benefactress Doña Puri. Poor Montse suffers from fits of anxiety, but she assures Donã Puri that the “medicine” she’s been supplying has been helping to take the edge off. Seemingly cursed with a debilitating affliction and afraid to step out and start a clothing business of her own, Montse passes on that fear to her little sister (Nadia de Santiago), who, strangely, is only referred to as “la nina” throughout the story. (You’ll have to watch to learn if she ever reveals her true name).
Early on, it’s revealed that Montse suffers from an acute form of agoraphobia that prohibits her from stepping foot outside of their sheltered, 1950’s apartment until her disease (and her faith) are tested when an upstairs neighbor – a dashing Spaniard named Carlos (Hugo Silva) – takes a spill down the stairs, severely injuring his leg. He cries out, and Montse reluctantly unbolts the door and drags him into the spare bedroom where Carlos is about to endure an unexpectedly long stay. As the days go by, Montse turns into a kind of mad nurse, imprisoning Carlos (much like Annie Wilkes did to author Paul Sheldon), mixing water with her “medicine” to keep Carlos in a dazed combination of pain and appreciation. Alarmed at the events unfolding, Montse’s little sister sneaks in to warn Carlos that he’s actually being drugged with morphine and that their caretaker doesn’t intend to be rid of his company any time soon.
Haunted by the memory of her father (Luis Tosar from Sleep Tight), who chastises her character even in death, Macareno Gómez’s depiction of Montse carefully constructs a tragic emotional core, building on top of a cracked foundation destined to crumble and eventually collapse under the weight of her dark family past and her growing desperation in the present. Gómez’s performance nicely complements a well-paced story and honors a script that recognizes that its lead must be likable before the audience can both root for others to escape and secretly wish for Montse to prevail.
With a successful background in comedy, Gómez uses the decisive shift into a horror thriller during the climax of Shrew’s Nest to inject some amusement through quirks of personality that reflect Montse’s own disbelief at just how far events have escalated by final day’s end. It’s been “hectic,” Montse says, but effects veteran Pepe Quetglas (Pan’s Labyrinth) makes sure that the insanity bubbling up within Montse is equaled by his team’s twisted sensibility and his own gore-filled imagination. The explosiveness of the violence – in its setup, delivery, and reveal – transforms the uninspired interior of the lifeless flat into a funhouse of death that may prove too dangerous for anyone to ever escape.
The shrew, or shrew-rat as its described, has a tendency to burrow and, if cornered, prove venomous. The story that’s unveiled in Shrew’s Nest follows that kind of behavior in following a likable, delicate, frightened woman who is driven to commit acts of terror, only to wind up having to face her own personal horrors in the process. Driven by Goméz’s electric portrayal, Shrew’s Nest reveals how trauma turns to compulsion and how desperation can cause someone to resort to violence rather than hide in absolute darkness.
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