Baby Blood

French director Alain Roback’s Baby Blood (AKA The Evil Within) begins with a disembodied voice, likely that of a demon, telling us about his kind. We learn that it has existed for millions of years—since the creation of the earth—but to live in corporeal form, it must be born from a human woman.

After the credits, we cut to what appears to be an African village. In a scene very reminiscent of Peter Jackon’s “Dead Alive,” we see the villagers through the eyes of an animal locked in a cage. Next, we cut to a view from the same perspective; this time, we see what appears to be a traveling circus. Here, we meet Yanka, played by the stunning Emmanuelle Escourrou. Yanka is a lion tamer’s assistant working with the caged animal, which we soon learn is a large cat.

Yanka, too, is locked in a cage of sorts. Her partner, Lohman—an A-grade piece of shit—is the Lion timer. He watches and controls Yanka’s every move. He is abusive, both physically and emotionally, and we soon learn that Yanka, naturally, wants nothing more than to escape—attempting to seduce the delivery driver and get a ride away from the circus.

Soon, the new animal becomes ill—it has been “infected” by the owner of the disembodied voice from earlier. The lion dies, something having mauled its stomach. The circus staff begins searching for the culprit but will not find it. The creature, which has burst out of the animal’s stomach, has already made it into Yanka’s trailer, where it crawls inside her—it’s found its host, and now it just needs to keep her and itself alive long enough to be born.

After Yanka’s infection, she runs away, already exhibiting signs of pregnancy, but her abusive partner follows and tracks her down in a run-down building—only to be stabbed and left for dead by Yanka. Soon, we learn that to grow strong and be born, the creature inside Yanka requires blood. Yanka gives in to the creature’s demands and drinks her partner’s blood. For the rest of the film, we follow Yanka as she flees the scene and travels around searching for scumbags to off so she can keep the creature inside her alive.

Escourrou’s Yanka and her relationship with the little demon is what makes this work. You get a full range of emotions here; her fear and desperation feel real, as does the rage she lets loose on her domineering partner. Her relationship with the demon is charming, unsettling, and more than a little funny at times.

Escourrou does spend a good portion of the film in her birthday suit, but—at least to me—the use of nudity here is not pure exploitation. It’s sort of crucial to the performance. In the beginning, it’s symbolic of vulnerability. She is nude—alone and afraid in a squalid apartment—when discovered by her former partner, but she is also nude when she unleashes her rage, stabbing him repeatedly in the subsequent scenes. She later uses her body as a tool to lure unsuspecting scumbags, which become fuel for her bundle of joy.  We see her transformation, in real-time, from being a victim to being the one in control. It’s gory, but it’s also quite beautiful.

There is a lot that you take away from this one. I think it might be tempting to look at this as some allegory for the lengths a woman will go to to protect her child—even if it means bringing about the end of humanity. Personally, though, I think this is full-on revenge porn. Our little guy represents the anger that has festered inside Yanka after years of dealing with shitty dudes. Yanka doesn’t want to embrace the anger—she threatens to and even attempts to kill the little bugger a few times—but as it takes over, it gives Yanka the power she needs to finally take the wheel—literally and metaphorically.

This a great little piece of low-budget splatter. It’s part vampire flick, slasher, revenge flick, and a smidge of cosmic horror, and it’s all done with a handful of characters, locations, and a budget of less than $200,000. I’d highly recommend this for any fan of early Peter Jackson or Sam Raimi. It’s got some wonderfully uncomfortable bits of body horror, but it never loses its sense of humor or takes itself too seriously.

Currently, you can stream this one in the US on Amazon Prime; Kino Lorber also offers an inexpensive Blu-Ray. The extras are pretty minimal—a single commentary track by Film Historian Lee Gambino and Film Critic Jarret Gahan—but the film is pretty rewatchable and easily worth the modest price tag. I’m not sure why fans of French horror or fans of old-school splatter in general aren’t talking about this one more often. It’s a wild ride and one of my favorite watches this year.