Saint Maud

In the year-plus since Saint Maud tore its way through North American film festivals, the British film’s legend has only grown. Critics – myself included – were quick to name Saint Maud as the latest masterpiece from indie distributor A24, a designation that was not enough to save it from multiple release date delays. Now, Saint Maud is finally available everywhere, lighter on hype than many expected but no less ready to catch audiences entirely by surprise.

Maud (Clark) is a woman in search of a fresh start. We meet her after she has left her previous position at the local hospital due to tragic circumstances. Now Maud is in the throes of religion and picking up her new calling as an in-home palliative care nurse. Her latest client is Amanda (Ehle), a once-famous dancer approaching the end of her life with understandable unease. Feeling called-upon to save Amanda’s soul, Maud attempts to bring Amanda under her wing. When she is rebuffed, she turns to God for answers, and something seems to answer.

In keeping with the best arthouse horror traditions, Saint Maud walks a fine line between the psychological and the supernatural. Maud suffers from a list of symptoms that include seizures, abdominal pain, and sudden bursts of euphoria. Her religious beliefs are centered on the philosophy that God wants her never to waste her pain, and Maud is quick to regard her bouts of agony – both physical and mental – as further evidence of the Divine. To make matters worse, Maud practices a unique form of self-harm, burning her hands or putting nails in her slippers to serve as a form of penance. When she suffers, she suffers entirely.

But what separates Saint Maud from countless other religious horror films is its sincerity. Maud’s struggle to save Amanda’s soul transforms into a heroic journey; the farther her actions take her, the more she finds righteousness in her now-answered prayers. The concept of spiritual warfare is too-often played in horror as literal demons and angels battling for the soul of humanity, but here writer-director Rose Glass suggests a more insidious form of demonic influence. Maud believes with all her heart that she was lost and has now been found. She never stops to wonder by what.

It takes a standout performance to balance so many tricky narrative and thematic elements, and Morfydd Clark is here for the challenge. From her thrashes of religious ecstasy to the increasing cynicism of her nightly prayers – Saint Maud is one of the better instances of first-person narration in horror – Clark wades into ambiguous waters with confidence and clarity. When the film closes on its much-discussed final moments, Clark ensures that the narrative has earned every second of the spectacle. Even in a year upended by COVID, her performance should go down as one of the best and the brightest.

Of course, in a typical year, Saint Maud would also be given the mass market treatment reserved for A24 titles like Midsommar and Hereditary. Regardless, it will not take long for horror fans to secure a spot for Glass’ film alongside other arthouse horror standouts. With elements of psychological terror, spiritual warfare, and even a dash of repressed sexual urges, Saint Maud is the kind of complicated, slippery horror that fans will talk about for years to come. This is the horror film most A24 titles wish they could be.