By Raymond Tyler

Religious elements have long been a central theme in horror films, particularly within the Gothic tradition, where Christian iconography and rituals are regularly used as powerful tropes. The frequent use of these symbols has historically drawn outrage from certain organizations and church groups. One of the most infamous examples is The Exorcist (1973), which was formally condemned by the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops' Office of Film and Broadcasting (USCCB-OFB) as not being suitable for a wide audience.

Horror films such as The Omen, Rosemary’s Baby, and The Devils have all been criticized. Some organizations even tell their congregants that watching such films is a sin in itself, reducing them to mere blasphemous entertainment—a stance that ironically reinforces the core themes of religious horror. The genre’s themes speak less to faith itself and more to the rightful fear people have of religious institutions. Why is religious iconography such a potent source of fear and superstition? Why do audiences flock to films about possession, religious cults, and murder? The reasons are numerous, but a key one is that, historically, religious institutions have often been sources of terror.

In The Devil’s Bath (a reference to clinical depression), the writer-director team of Veronika Franz and Severin Fiala don’t just reflect on these themes. They use the very essence of religious horror to show how fear, power, and faith have historically intertwined in ways more terrifying than any supernatural threat. The film is based on the academic work of  Kathy Stuart. Her book Suicide by Proxy in Early Germany tracks the phenomenon of crimes committed by suicidal people for the sole purpose of being executed. Because the church  (both Catholic and Protestant) believed that a suicide would spend eternity in hell, some people in 17th-century Germany found a loophole. If someone commits a heinous crime and then repents before a priest or clergyman  and the state, the criminal can receive absolution and thus be absolved of their sins. The criminal would  be put to death for their crimes, but the Kingdom of God would still be open to their eternal soul. If this history sounds horrifying, grotesque, and macabre, it’s because it is, and it  is these themes and history that the film explores.

The film begins with a crying infant. A woman picks up the child and begins a long walk up a mountain. In a moment of what appears to be tenderness, the woman places a rosary around the child’s neck. At the top of the mountain, the woman stares off into the distance. In one swift motion, she tosses the child. In the next scene, we see her turning herself in, stating that she has just committed a murder. It is the next shot that will weed out the faint of heart. We see the woman from before, headless, her body brutalized. We see her corpse on display in the woods, with her crimes written on a piece of parchment beside her body. 

It is clear that the theatrics of this mutilation are meant to serve as both a punishment and a warning to those who might contemplate committing murder. After this scene, we are introduced to Agnes, the central character we will follow for the rest of the film. We meet her as she is about to be forcibly married to a man named Wolf. During the wedding celebration, she observes her new husband drunkenly yet tenderly telling his friend Lenz that he is handsome. Wolf gently touches Lenz. Lenz responds by telling Wolf he likes him too. Agnes walks away.

Agnes hates married life.  She tries to initiate sex with Wolf, but he is uninterested. Still, she works side by side with him as they fish for a living. In moments of solitude, Agnes takes to walking in the woods, where she finds the beheaded corpse of the displayed woman from the beginning of the film. Agnes is fascinated by the body, and we can see a longing in her eyes. While Agnes is wandering through the woods, Wolf sits without dinner, and Wolf’s mother comes and cooks for him. Agnes’s new mother-in-law treats her with disdain and indignation. We truly feel the dismal nature of Agnes’s life as we watch the expectations of a patriarchal religious society eat at her spirit. But it is not just Agnes’s suffering; every character in the film is suffering from expectations. Agnes and Wolf are both  trapped in a social contract that neither wants. It is clear that Wolf isn’t happy about being married, and yet he goes through the motions where he can. But when it comes to sex and affection, Wolf has no interest. We see Wolf and Agnes go to church, we see the mundanity of their life, and we see the way religious fear is a driving factor in their decisions. 

One night, Agnes hears a scream. Wolf charges out of the house, and Agnes follows. We see the dangling legs of a man who has just hung himself. Agnes looks on thoughtfully. We then see her in church, listening to a sermon that makes it clear that suicide is the worst way one can die. There is no one to ask for forgiveness, no priest to grant clemency; all is lost, and hell awaits. The priest mentions that at least the woman who killed the child was able to be granted absolution. It is at this gut-wrenching moment in the film that we understand where our protagonist is headed. As Agnes grows more weary and suicidal, we shudder in anticipation of what is to come. Agnes is committed to a mental asylum after she is caught drinking rat poison. She tries to go home to her mother, whom she loves, but is brought back kicking and screaming to her husband. Agnes becomes obsessed with having a child, thinking that perhaps it will fill the void. She steals a baby in the woods and is forced to return it. After all futile attempts at some sort of normalcy and happiness fail, Agnes invites a boy to walk with her. She asks the child to pray with her, and when they get on their knees to  pray together, she kills him. Agnes turns herself in, repents, and is brutally mutilated, beheaded, and displayed like the woman from the opening of the film.

The audience is left with a profound and horrifying empathy for  Agnes.The character Agnes was not a cruel and hateful person but one who was suffering from patriarchal societal expectations coupled with a deep religious fear of hell. 

The feelings of religious fear are profoundly deep in our society. One can’t watch horror films without seeing the deep-rooted religious trauma people have suffered. Religiously  themed horror films give us the freedom to scream until we feel a little better. The Devil’s Bath is yet another example of how horror is used as a manifestation of societal and religious fears.

 For socialist and progressive religious-minded people, it is important to watch these films and understand that religion has too often been used as a tool to oppress and scare people into submission. But religion can also give us tools to fight systems of oppression. While violent and unjust institutions use God as a means of hurting people, we hope to use religion as a righteous call for social justice. That social justice includes economic justice, racial justice, feminism, LGBTQIA liberation, socialism, and much more. Lower down on the list of things that religious socialism includes is the ability to watch and engage in art that some consider blasphemous and understand that the perceived blasphemy is a deep guttural eldritch howl for justice and freedom.

Raymond Tyler is a writer from Appalachian Georgia currently residing in Nyack, NY. He’s a longtime social justice and labor activist, mostly bridging “history from below” with comics. Raymond’s most recent work is the comic Black Coal and Red Bandanas: An Illustrated History of the West Virginia Mine Wars, forthcoming with PM Press October 2024.

Image credit: Berlin International Film Festival