Out of Fantastic Fest, Quarxx’s The Ones Who Grieve makes Eden Lake look like child’s play. It’s a relentlessly dismal unraveling of extremist religion and inevitable violence against women. While the period piece oozes aesthetic charm and style, the story leaves the viewer feeling hopeless and miserable. The film, co-written with Frederic Soulier, drags the audience along on a bed of needles. Each moment descends further into the abyss of masochistic glee. It’s effective, that’s to be sure, but at what cost? It neither supplies a cathartic valve of feminine rage nor says anything new that can’t be seen doomscrolling on social media. In 2026, viewers desperately seek horror that confronts, as The Ones Who Grieve no doubt does, but also gives them a outlet for all their anger and sorrow, not more kindling.
Zelie (Zelie Rixhon) lives at the mercy of her tyrannical, Bible thumping father Jacob (Thierry Frémont), whose wife Emilie (Isabelle Anciaux) hides her feelings with food. Zelie’s mind yearns for literal and metaphorical freedom. Jacob bans any and all reading, except for the scriptures, but Zelie manages to get her hands on a secular book. It’s the beginning of her rebellion against her father’s strict fire-and-brimstone beliefs. As the Old Testament declares, men own women. Zelie and Emilie lack real agency in their lives, and the days oly bring more of Jacob’s cruelty and stripping away of their bodies and minds.
Amidst the woes of women, there’s a plague known only as “The Black Veil,” a virus-like contagion that turns even the strong willed into zombies. Reanimated flesh-eaters possess no hunger for living flesh; it’s corpses they desire. In response to the epidemic, maskers emerged, those willing to take on a sadistic plague doctor role. Early on, a carriage delivers a woman and her ailing son, whose eyes have turned black and who has already lost the power of speech. The distraught mother pleads with Jacob to find another way, but he’s unwavering in his crusade.
The next scene follows Jacob’s sick surgery that requires the boy to be sedated, to have his eyes and mouth sewn shut, and to have a carved, wooden mask locked around his head. Such is a way of life that refuses scientific advancements (e.g., electro-shock therapy, a breakthrough taking place in New York City at the same time) that could cure the diseased person’s illness. Quarxx mixes the horrifying elements into a cauldron of heartless humiliation and thoughtless violence, i.e., explicit and implicit rape, female body mutilation, and psychological torment. Films like The Witch and I Spit on Your Grave explore similar themes and deliver a necessary emotional release for the audience, an empowering voltage that gives hope rather than more destruction.
With cinematographer Antoine Carpentier in tow, Quarxx nails the feeling and tone of the late 19th Century. From costuming to the desperation of rural folk, The Ones Who Grieve excels, without question. Rixhon is particularly hypnotizing in her role as the anguished and frightened Zelie, configuring her performance with such visceral authenticity that will knock you to the ground. Similarly, Frémont injects Jacob with inescapable venom potent enough to make the viewer shake with fury. Their performances are like touching searing iron with your bare hand.
Quarxx’s The Ones Who Grieve is wonderfully well-made, and the filmmaker certainly understands time and place. But making a statement about how straight white religious men will always win doesn’t serve horror in 2026, when women and queer people desperately deserve a chance to breathe. The Ones Who Grieve is just too suffocating.
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