THE STORY – Kelly-Anne is obsessed with the high-profile case of a serial killer, and reality blurs with her morbid fantasies. She goes down a dark path to get the missing video of the murder of a young girl, to whom Kelly-Anne bears a disturbing resemblance.
THE CAST – Juliette Gariépy, Laurie Babin & Maxwell McCabe-Lokos
THE TEAM – Pascal Plante (Director/Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 118 Minutes
True crime is undoubtedly a fascinating genre, but why audiences are so fascinated by it isn’t easily defined. Why we are attracted to stories about people doing the worst things imaginable could lead to any number of answers. Is it curiosity or a desire to understand why these crimes are committed? Is it an educational tool to help you feel more prepared to avoid becoming a victim? Is it the thrill of attempting to solve the mystery ourselves? Or is it all three? No matter the answer, we’ve always been interested in the macabre and the secrets these kinds of grim stories hide. And, with the growing popularity of podcasts and the countless true crime stories on streaming, we can consume these cases more than ever.
While we do, it can also be said that we ignite fears and cause even more paranoia. So, why do we keep watching? Wrapped in a tense and harrowing courtroom cyber-thriller, Pascal Plante’s “Red Rooms” doesn’t aim to answer any of the questions above or even to completely understand the true crime obsession; rather, it’s a reflection. It’s a reflection on the genre but also what that consumption can do to people and how dangerous it is in the digital age. It’s escapism and entertainment, even obsession, for the audience, but for the victims and their families, it’s a tragic reality that they can’t just turn off with the push of a button.
The thunderous cracks of Dominique Plante’s score follow Kelly-Anne (Juliette Gariépy) as she walks into a Montreal courthouse. That night, and for many nights after that, she sleeps outside in a back alley to be first to get a seat inside the courtroom of Ludovic Chevalier’s (Maxwell McCabe Lokos) first-degree murder trial. She and another woman at the trial with whom she bonds, Clémentine (Laurie Babin), is a groupie obsessed with Chevalier like he’s the frontman of the hottest band. Hybristophilia, an attraction to those who commit crimes, is nothing new. Despite their crimes, Ted Bundy, Charles Manson, and many others received hundreds of fan letters from women. This attraction is difficult to understand, and Plante doesn’t try to; on the one hand, this is frustrating because you don’t get a sense of Kelly-Anne’s emotions about the case. At one point much later in the film, Clémentine, who expresses her belief in Chevalier’s innocence throughout, asks Kelly-Anne, “Why are you here?”
The audience begins to wonder that, immediately upon seeing her for the first time, and that question never goes away. The cross on her neck signals she’s on a crusade, but a crusade to prove without a doubt the innocence or guilt of the alleged killer is not defined. The camera focuses on Kelly-Anne as she stares intensely at the defendant, the heartbreaking testimony of a mother, the forceful delivery of the prosecution and defense cases, and the promise of the presentation of the most violent and explicit evidence you could imagine keep us at attention. This high-profile case recalls Luka Magnotta and his murder of Jun Lin in Montreal. Magnotta posted a video of him dismembering Lin’s body, and this video was estimated to have been viewed more than 10 million times in 24 hours. This kind of “content,” primarily found in the gruesome world of the dark web, is where the focus of “Red Rooms” lies.
The titular “red rooms” themselves are online live feeds where people willingly pay to see a person commit murder. Death has a literal price tag in this digital black market, and what’s high on the list of supply and demand is the murders of young, even underage, women with blonde hair and blue eyes. These videos, only heard but kept unseen from us, detail unimaginable torture. As the gruesome details of the case are laid out, the camera focuses on the suspected killer. What is being said by the defense and prosecution is almost impossible to concentrate on as you observe his body language, trying to find any sign pointing to his guilt or innocence. The focus on Chevalier and Kelly-Anne is engaging, especially on Kelly-Anne, because Gariépy has very little dialogue. You can tell her mind is swirling with every expression, trying to figure out the killer, which also makes the audience try to figure out the film’s protagonist.
Who is she? Why is she here? These questions linger throughout. Kelly-Anne is just as much of a mystery as the case, as all we know about her is that she lives in a very bare, dark apartment, obsessively plays online poker, and models full-time. She also proves to be very tech-savvy, which moves into investigative territory as she takes a deeper interest in the case. This, in turn, leads to her discovering a video that could make or break the case. The camera moving from over her shoulder to a close-up of her face illuminated by her computer screen feels like an action sequence, with the dramatic score and pace keeping us on our toes as to what can happen. As she gets caught in her own dark web, Kelly-Anne finds it increasingly difficult to maintain her psychological balance, which impacts her life and career. The unclear motivations of her as a character make us question our own when we seek out images and videos of violence, like murder. She also works as a representation of the dangers of obsession: how it can not only impact our lives, as seen with Michelle McNamara and her obsession with the “Golden State Killer,” but also impact the cases themselves as amateur sleuths poke and prod online in chat rooms.
Why are we so fascinated by heinous crimes? Why, when we listen to true crime podcasts, do we have an impulse to see images we shouldn’t? And, when we look up those images when we listen to those podcasts, and give those TV shows our views, how guilty do we become in these crimes as observers? “Red Rooms” creeps under your skin because it reveals the darkest parts of ourselves we’re trying to ignore.