Saint Maud review: A terrifying, paranoia-inducing slow burn

Though Fall is most commonly associated with major horror releases, if we’ve learned anything from years past, it’s that January thru March tends to be a surprising goldmine of sleeper horror hits – in past years, we’ve seen flicks like The VVitch, Happy Death Day 2 U, and most recently, The Invisible Man all hit theaters in the early months of the year as opposed to the typical October release. 2021 is proving to be no exception to the rule – with Rose Glass’s terrifying slow-burn Saint Maud, A24 gave audiences the first major horror hit of the year.

Starring Sweden-born Welsh actress Morfydd Clark, Saint Maud follows Maud (Clark) an introverted young hospice nurse who has recently come devoutly pious. When she gets a new gig as the carer of Amanda (Jennifer Ehle), a spirited dancer whose body has been crippled by illness, she becomes obsessed with trying to help ‘save’ Amanda’s soul – and the need to remain pure and devout ravages both her life and her mind, driving her to near insanity. As tensions between Amanda and Maud grow, it becomes difficult to discern who is truly wicked and who needs to be saved – and the audience is watches in horror and Maud’s piety becomes destructive.

Crafting a passable debut film is difficult enough as it is, but with Saint Maud, Rose Glass blows past any expectations we might’ve had about a first time director – not only is this a solid film – it’s a downright spectacular one. It’s incredible just how much Glass gets right – from the structure to the tone to the pacing to the aesthetics, everything is on point. For starters, Saint Maud is a refreshingly reasonable hour and twenty-four minutes – never overstaying its welcome, but using it’s runtime so economically that the slow-burn structure never overstays its welcome, nor is it rushed before it reaches its most potent.

At its core, Saint Maud is a film centered around belief, faith, and the dynamic between the sinners and the saved. Glass plays with this concept beautifully by making Maud the point character, but also casting significant doubt into the reliability of her not just as a narrator, but even as a caretaker, and religious authority. At first, she seems well-intentioned, if a little prude (Maud is very visibly off-put by the presence of Carol, a woman who Amanda pays to sleep with), but as the film progresses, we began to question how she became so religious in the first place, and whether or not her determination to ‘save’ Amanda is coming from a place of goodness, or from somewhere (or something) more sinister.

Taking quite a few structural notes from Robert Eggers films like The VVitch, the first two-thirds of Saint Maud are a slow burn in the truest sense of the word – but the acting is so impressive and the writing so tight that the relative lack of action is hardly noticeable – you’re that drawn into Maud’s world. The pitch-perfect slow burn of Saint Maud‘s first two acts makes the film’s shocking final act all the better – though it doesn’t come out of nowhere, it’s the kind of devastating ending that is both completely earned and utterly jaw-dropping.

Morfydd Clark is stunningly magnetic as Maud – although Maud isn’t a particularly chatty person, she commands the screen with the sort of eerie presence that tells the audience they should stop paying attention to her at their own peril. Despite being the lead, she often ends up (very deliberately) falling into the background when she has scenes with other characters – she’s the kind of demure, unimposing figure that serves as the perfect wolf in sheep’s clothing.

But what is most fascinating about Maud is that even by the time the film reaches a grizzly, harrowing end, you’re still not sure where Maud’s true intentions lie – whether or not she wanted to help Amanda at all, why she was punishing herself so severely, and what had her so hypnotized by the call of piety.

The way Clark carries herself as Maud – prim and proper but also hunching inwards, almost as if she’s trying to make herself invisible – displays a thorough understanding of the character she’s playing, and also the tone of the film itself. Glass and Clark seem to share a very clear understanding of the kind of film that Saint Maud is – and it’s refreshing to see that mutual assuredness blossom on the screen – resulting in a directorial debut and a first lead performance that work in utter harmony and make each other better.

The supporting cast surrounding Clark is in strong form as well – Jennifer Ehle brings depth and vibrance to Amanda that plays beautifully off of Maud’s more reserved, unassuming nature – and when Lily Frazer’s spirited Carol is added to the mix, it’s the perfect clash of characters to truly ruffle Maud’s feathers and push her over the edge into the film’s last act.

While we love to see women in horror in any capacity, our love for Saint Maud goes far beyond just wanting to support new voices in a homogenous genre. Saint Maud is the kind of perfectly-paced slow burn that doesn’t have an ounce of fat on it – there are no squeaky wheels, necessary scenes, or messy character work. It’s hysteria-inspiring, pulse-pounding, gut-wrenching psychological horror grounded by an extraordinary effort from both Mofrydd Clark and Rose Glass, whose harmonious work makes Saint Maud a knockout debut.

Are you planning to give Saint Maud a look? Sound off in the comments.