In any career, it’s often about who you know as much as it is what you know. Sure, you can find an entry position somewhere and work your way up, but that method isn’t as secure as it was a generation ago. Now, it’s far more about how much you can grind while making connections to get where you want to go. In the wider discussion of nepotism in filmmaking, some recognize their privilege and have reputations for using it within the industry and beyond to uplift others (Tony Goldwyn), while others are less likely to recognize that they wouldn’t be where they are without the parent, relative, or general awareness of the industry afforded them through their lifelong proximity. But what about those who don’t have a leg-up or foot-in by virtue of luck at birth? For his second feature film, writer/director Andrew de Burgh (The Bestowal) lets the blood flow as internalized rage at social corruption, misogyny, and broken promises, fuels the fire of disappointment in The Seductress from Hell. While it’s rich in ideas and atmosphere, the end result doesn’t feel like the justified rage of Medea upon an Argonaut, but a surface-level depiction of various tropes gathered together to excuse the bloodletting.
Jason Faunt as Robert Pereira in THE SEDUCTRESS FROM HELL. Photo courtesy of Garaj Pictures and Sacred Ember Films.
Despite efforts to book gigs, Zara (Rocio Scotto) just can’t seem to catch a break. It doesn’t matter how prepared she is, either she’s doesn’t get any call-backs, her representation fails to do their job, or her husband of two years, Robert (Jason Flaunt), offers zero support. Worse yet, Robert lays blame on her for failure to get hired as though she’s rejecting offers as opposed to constantly fighting for them. After a recent string of abuses, Zara’s had enough and decides to turn the tables on all who would reduce her, real or imagined.
Rocio Scotto as Zara Pereira in THE SEDUCTRESS FROM HELL. Photo courtesy of Garaj Pictures and Sacred Ember Films.
Seductress contains all the makings of a fiery tale: a dream beaten down by a lack of support systems, a life ruled by the cruel hands of a husband, and options so bleak that the only way to survive seems to be to go mad. Each way that Zara looks, there’s not a single helping hand, whether it’s from Robert’s friends, police, or strangers. Each person she encounters is either totally dispassionate, apathetic, or violently presumptuous and demanding. With physical, mental, and emotional violence at every turn, de Burgh creates an environment through which the most reasonable of us would go mad. Through a single instance of rejection, de Burgh demonstrates the isolation Zara experiences at near every touch point of her existence. Elevating moments quiet and loud is the outstanding score from Elezeid (Journey Beyond the Universe) channeling John Carpenter’s own for Halloween (1978), both in the fast key pattern that courses through the theme song, but also the pounding rhythms that accompany it, indicative of something boiling under the surface yearning to break free. In concert, the concepts and score give way to the kind of horror show that contains the potential to carve its way under your skin.
The issue, however, is the execution of the ideas and the repeated contradictions that undermine the efficacy of de Burgh’s intention. For instance, we’re introduced to Derek and Maya (Raj Jawa and Kylie Rohrer, respectively) as another couple with ties to Robert via Derek. One might presume that they are to be the antithesis of the Zara-Robert relationship, except Jawa almost always plays Derek as at a distance from his partner (physically and emotionally), with the actor infusing Derek with a longing for Maya that she doesn’t seem to reciprocate. In the first scene we meet them in, Maya speaks to the way that Los Angeles turns people into the worst versions of themselves, an aspect that the character is inconsistent throughout the film in recognizing within herself. When the two couples come together, the interactions are off-putting and awkward, like four people who’ve never encountered each other before. The intent seems to be a desire to highlight the disquiet in the Zara-Roberts household, to showcase Robert’s domineering and demanding nature, with neither Derek or Maya speaking up in her defense. Except even when they do speak, there’s no energy, no familiarity, no sense that these couples know each other. Especially when a final bit of dialogue between Zara and Maya is basically social positioning with Maya cutting Zara down, the intention seems to want to show how Zara is far more isolated than the characters believe. Except, as the horror takes hold and Derek and Maya get involved, Maya implies a closeness between the couples that’s far from been demonstrated, instead coming off as dialogue meant to help the scene in that moment rather than being consistent within the previous presentation of relationship. Rather than these individual sequences working in service of the story, they rub against each other, creating a sense of inconsistency that reverberates in other aspects of the fully-realized tale.
For her part, Scotto (Lady Parts) holds down the film. She’s clearly not afraid to get a little unhinged, devouring monologue after monologue decrying the calcification of humanity and the rising tide of capitalism greedily taking in everything it can while uncaringly pushing aside anything from which it cannot earn a penny. Scotto makes it quite clear that Zara has lost her grip with reality to the point that the delivery of truths in dialogue is indistinguishable from lies, creating an aura of turbulence and tension. The lengths to which Zara goes for her own sense of justice can be explained if one chooses to believe all of what she says, but, that there is doubt, is to Scotto’s credit for planting the seed. What weakens the character is no fault of Scotto’s, but in the foundation of the turn, the means by which the supernatural enters this tale, leaning so hard on outdated tropes related to Satanism that have been frequently debunked. In the 2024 release Faceless After Dark, an actress similarly loses their mind after an attempted assault by a fan, thereby starting the schism that pushes the tale toward the macabre. There’s no blame on some external force, customs, or faith, just the darkness of humanity, much of which de Burgh similarly touches on through Zara and Scotto’s performance. But by giving Zara a turn toward the satanic, she further loses agency by acting in pursuit of someone else, denying Zara the actual freedom she craves.
Raj Jawa as Derek Patel in THE SEDUCTRESS FROM HELL. Photo courtesy of Garaj Pictures and Sacred Ember Films.
There’s something so frustrating about a film where you can see the ideas, see the intention on screen, yet it doesn’t come together. Sure, the depiction of some of Zara’s violence isn’t as blood-gushing in the sort of hyperreality horror fans want nor is it necessarily as messy as it likely would be in reality (I’ve had dental appointments with more blood — yes, they sucked), but there’s also some interesting creativity in the execution. The constant swallowing of rage, the perpetual sense that everyone’s out for themselves, the belief that success is merely a matter of action without taking into account skill and luck — all of these things are ripe for exploration and are present here. But by trying to create a thriller, a lot of those ideas become muddy and lost, no matter how righteous a rebellion it starts as.
In theaters 2025.
For more information, head to the official The Seductress from Hell website.
Final Score: 2.5 out of 5.
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Categories: In Theaters, Reviews
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