Stream It Or Skip It: ‘Azrael’ on Shudder, a Horror-Thriller Subbing out Dialogue for Samara Weaving’s Expressive Face (And Plenty of Gore)

Thank Jebus Samara Weaving has such an expressive face, since she anchors Azrael (now streaming on Shudder and AMC+), a fascinating experiment in dialogue-free filmmaking. This bloody slab o’ action-horror is from director E.L. Katz (Cheap Thrills) and writer Simon Barrett (The Guest), who have plenty of genre cred via their past collaborations with director Adam Wingard – and they’ve crafted an action-first/talk-dead-last post-apocalyptic creeper that scrimped on the dialogue budget and allocated a good chunk of its money on oodles of icky-oozy visual effects. But does it transcend its gimmick?

AZRAEL: STREAM IT OR SKIP IT?

The Gist: Let it be known that Azrael is the mythical name for the angel of death. Read into it as you may, since the name of our protagonist today is Azrael (Weaving), although I’m getting that from the credits and not the dialogue, since there is none. We meet her after an ominous title card reveals that this is a post-Rapture-with-a-capital-R society where people have “renounced the sin of speech,” as in, Rap-sure I’m fine with having my vocal cords cut out for religious reasons! Azrael and her lover (Nathan Stewart-Jarrett) have cross-shaped scars on their throats indicating their past invasive surgery. They hide in the forest, and the way Katz shows us that they’re hiding is by having her get mad because he built a fire and she had to stomp it out. She gives him that you dummy they’re gonna find us look and then, whaddaya know, They – and I’m just going to capitalize this They from here on out, for clarity’s sake – find our couple. And before you know it, the protags are separated and Azrael is tied to a rather rustic altar that would look lovely in the sacrifice room of your farmhouse cottage. Then one of the leaders of They (Katariina Unt) slashes Azrael’s leg with a razor and waits.

For what? Oh boy, I’ll tell you what. This is still early in the movie so it’s not a spoiler to speak on the societal hierarchy here: Azrael belongs to a splinter sect of humans that maintains some level of reason. The Theys around here are religious zealots who live by some obscure, twisted dogmatic code and communicate by whistling. And the third party in this plot emerges from the woods hissing and shrieking and smelling the blood all sharklike. These things are humanoid in form, have characteristics of both vampires and zombies, and appear to be charred all over, like they spent 40 years too long in the toaster oven. If I were to hazard a guess, these creatures got torched by Rapture-related fire and brimstone and became demons with a literal thirst for ye olde hemoglobin, but go ahead and interpret the backstory how you wish, because it’s fun. And therefore, in the spirit of such freewheeling translation of context, I’m choosing to believe that this movie takes place in or around Hellonearth, Ohio.  

Anyway. We know the filmmakers wouldn’t kill off Azrael so early, so I’m safe in saying she escapes this early predicament, and embarks on a quest to either save her lover, exact nasty nasty revenge, or both. Bottom line, she ain’t exactly happy with the sitch as it’s playing out. She dodges the creatures – who thankfully are rather inelegant chasers, lurching stumblers prone to tripping on things – and makes her way back to the They village, a cobbled-together assortment of tents, razor wire and misc. post-apocalyptic debris, a place miserable enough to make me wonder if this is what a Proud Boys backyard scout-camp looks like. There are guns left over from the pre-apocalypse, of course. There’s an old church where a pregnant woman (Vic Carmen Sonne) hangs out looking very, very serious in a white dress. It’s also worth noting, during Azrael’s adventure, she encounters a man who can talk, which is what you might call a contextual clue. But ultimately, it’s not that important, because our base investment in Azrael is whether the title character not only survives a major ordeal, but kicks some ass while doing it. 

What Movies Will It Remind You Of?: Azrael drinks from a conceptual well neighboring that of A Quiet Place, with some of the stuff of folky occult horror a la The Wicker Man or The Witch. 

Performance Worth Watching: Weaving gets put through such a severe final-girl wringer, a body can’t help but think of Alison Lohman in Drag Me to Hell.  

Memorable Dialogue: None, but I’ll transcribe one of the happy-happy-joy-joy title cards dropped in here and there: “From all my transgressions, deliver me. I have become Mute, I open not my mouth.”

Sex and Skin: None. 

Our Take: I’m not sure Azrael makes complete sense. The challenge for Katz and Barrett is to give us enough visual cues to piece together at least the rudimentary skeleton of a story, which they don’t do with much clarity, at least on the first pass. Wikipedia helps fill in a few of the holes, but as my ancestors from the old country used to say, when you need to consult Wikipedia to fully understand a movie, the movie is in a bit of trouble. 

But I’m armed and ready to be an Azrael apologist, mostly because Katz generates some thick, creepy atmosphere, makes the most of some clever cinematography and lighting, and stirs up just enough anti-dogmatic (and possibly Satanic!) subtext so the movie is about something besides its own structure and method. The creature effects and makeup, all practical, are inspired, disturbing and gorgeously gory. Katz pieces together some rousing action sequences – my favorite? A sluggish slug-and-chokefest between two heavily concussed combatants who seem to be moving in slow motion – and generally keeps things moving moving moving for a taut, crispy 86 minutes of in-the-moment immediacy with an evil-grin-worthy payoff in the final moments. And most importantly, no characters pause to explain anything, which happens a lot in bad movies. I’ll take a little narrative mud and over stultifying reams of exposition any day, thank you.

Our Call: The wings of the angel of death beat mighty! STREAM IT.

John Serba is a freelance writer and film critic based in Grand Rapids, Michigan.