Every year, a handful of horror films arrive at festivals with the same reputation: “beautiful,” “dreamlike,” “haunting,” “meditative,” and — let’s be honest — “you may fall asleep, and that’s okay.”
The Vourdalak is one such film.
Adapted from an 1839 vampire novella and directed by Adrien Beau, this French drama-horror strolls into the genre like a delicate porcelain figurine: elegant, detailed, and so fragile that it feels like one sharp movement might break the entire movie. Critics adore it. Audiences… will likely be Googling “vourdalak meaning” while wondering if they accidentally bought a ticket to a museum installation.
Beau’s film is visually stunning, deeply atmospheric, and committed to its old-world folklore. It is also a glacially paced doom-waltz where the scariest thing is the realization that you may be trapped in 18th-century Eastern Europe listening to aristocrats whisper for two solid hours.
But let’s dig in — slowly, ceremonially, and with the same energy the film has when showing someone chew mournfully on a burial shroud.
Jacques Antoine: The World’s Most Useless French Aristocrat
Our “hero,” Marquis Jacques Antoine du Saturnin d’Urfé (Kacey Mottet Klein), begins his journey by losing his companions, his horse, and — based on his behavior — every single one of his survival instincts. He wanders into the countryside like a man who genuinely believes wolves, bandits, and vampires will politely respect his noble lineage.
A hermit points him toward the family of one Gorcha, and Jacques Antoine, armed with arrogance and not much else, stumbles into the home of Eastern Europe’s most dysfunctional family. It’s clear from minute one that Jacques is the kind of aristocrat who would see a vampire gnawing on a corpse and assume it’s just a regional delicacy.
He tries to seduce Sdenka (Ariane Labed) like he’s in a perfume commercial, fails, and immediately gets humiliated. This is the first time we root for the film.
Gorcha: The Daddy Issues to End All Daddy Issues
Gorcha is the patriarch who promised his family he’d be back in six days after fighting the Turks — and if he returned after day six, he’d be undead and dangerous.
Naturally, he returns exactly on day six, looking like a cryptkeeper who just rolled out of bed.
The dog starts barking hysterically at him — the one being in the film with any sense — and Jegor forces little Piotr to shoot the dog.
This is the moment you know:
-
This family is messed up.
-
Piotr needs therapy.
-
The dog was right. Always listen to the dog.
Gorcha reveals he killed the leader of the Turks (sounds fake, but okay) and immediately starts skulking around like he’s auditioning for the world’s slowest Dracula remake.
The Film’s Favorite Pastime: Watching People Do Nothing While A Vampire Looms
If you enjoy:
-
long gazes
-
slow walks
-
sighing
-
candlelit staring contests
-
and the occasional vague slurping sound
…this movie will feel like fireworks.
For everyone else, you’ll be checking your pulse to make sure you haven’t joined the undead.
The pacing is so slow that even the vourdalak attacks seem to be running late.
Vlad: The Saddest Vampire Child Since That One in Interview With the Vampire
Vlad, Jegor’s son, is the first to fall victim to Gorcha’s nibbling. Jacques Antoine wakes up to find Vlad sleepwalking toward the forest, where Gorcha is chewing on his burial shroud like it’s beef jerky.
This is the film’s first “scare,” and honestly? It’s more unsettling than terrifying — like catching your grandpa eating cold leftovers in the middle of the night.
Vlad dies, is buried, and the family immediately devolves into arguments over who should stake him. This is the most relatable part of the movie.
Piotr’s Glow-Up: From Bullied Son to Lipstick-Wearing Avenger… then Dead
Piotr, mocked for “effeminacy,” appears later wearing makeup and flowers in his hair, ready to kill his undead father with the dramatic flair of a goth theater kid.
It’s iconic.
It’s fabulous.
It lasts four seconds before Gorcha shoots him dead.
Honestly? Piotr was the only person with a plan.
The Film’s Energy Level: Somewhere Between “Melancholy Goat” and “Expired Wine”
Every scene is painstakingly crafted — ornate costumes, haunting landscapes, natural lighting — but the film moves at the speed of a benadryl-drowsy snail crawling up a frost-covered cliff.
It’s atmospheric, yes.
It’s immersive, yes.
But it’s also the cinematic equivalent of reading a gothic novel in a bathtub until the water goes cold and you start questioning your life choices.
Sdenka: Beautiful, Haunted, and Stuck in a Movie Where the Vampire Has More Screen Time Than Her Personality
Sdenka is tragic and luminous, but the film keeps her at arm’s length — like a portrait you’re not allowed to touch. She shares chemistry with Jacques Antoine, though the chemistry is mostly:
-
her staring at cliffs
-
him staring at her
-
both staring at their impending doom
When she finally seduces Jacques Antoine in one of the film’s “big twists,” it’s not her at all — it’s Gorcha in disguise, draining his blood.
Somewhere in the world, a vampire laughed at how gullible this man is.
The Dinner Scene: The Moment the Film Finally Lets Itself Be Weird
Jacques Antoine eventually finds the whole family undead around a dinner table like a macabre wax museum exhibit. Even the dead dog is posed, which is equal parts horrifying and deeply funny.
It’s the first time the movie embraces genuine absurdity — and honestly, it should’ve gotten there about 45 minutes earlier.
The Ending: Beautiful, Tragic, and Emotionally Confusing
Jacques Antoine escapes, finds Sdenka about to throw herself from a cliff, declares her “free,” and then immediately jumps off the cliff himself because he’s been bitten.
He gives her a horse. And a map of Europe. As if she’s going on a backpacking trip and not escaping her undead family.
Sdenka rides away chewing a shroud — which the film treats like a dramatic reveal, but mostly looks like she’s stress-eating fabric.
A French duchess adopts her.
No, really. That’s how the movie ends.
Final Verdict: A Beautiful, Artistic Vampire Film That Will Either Mesmerize You or Put You in a Coffin
The Vourdalak is visually striking and artistically bold — but slow, somber, and drenched in self-serious energy.
It’s like someone adapted a vampire legend using:
-
the pacing of Tarkovsky
-
the lighting of Barry Lyndon
-
the emotional expression of a tax audit
For some viewers, it will be hypnotic.
For others, it will be a gorgeous cure for insomnia.
If you like:
-
slow folklore
-
art-house vibes
-
mournful staring
-
morally doomed aristocrats
-
vampires who snack like they’re on a diet
…you may love this film.
If not?
Don’t worry — you won’t become a vourdalak after watching it.
Just emotionally drained.
