The oversized footprint of Dario Argento is strongly felt in Hamzah Jamjoom’s Rupture, a dense giallo set in London (though shot in Romania) about a young Saudi couple living in a creepy residential hotel where Billy Zane reigns as the concierge. Designed to plunge audiences into a nightmarish world of incertitude as the pregnant female lead is tormented by Zane’s psychotic manipulations, the film unsatisfyingly toys with reality and dream states to the point where we’re meant to question if the woman’s ordeal springs from a disturbed reaction to her pregnancy, opening up all sorts of outmoded theories about female hysteria that remain unaddressed in a bid to keep audiences guessing. For those who enjoy dark, opaque horror narratives that aim for an Argento-Lynch vibe, Rupture will offer satisfying moments, and the film could place well at genre festivals. Although the version screened at the Red Sea was advertised as a work in progress, it won the award for best Saudi feature.
The Royal is the name of the hulking building where Malak (Sumaya Rida) and Rakan (Fayez Bin Jurays) rent an apartment: it’s the kind of place familiar to most giallo fans, where everything from the ill-lit green corridors to the unnerving denizens exudes a feeling of anxiety. Malak is overjoyed to learn she’s pregnant – they’re in London to try their luck at a fertility clinic – but Rakan is concerned, given her history of blood clots. When he has to go back to Saudi Arabia for an urgent family matter, she assures him she’ll be fine remaining in London, where she’s begun a specialty cakes business.
Viewers already know (and Malak should as well) that leaving her alone in the Royal with Victor (Zane) as the concierge isn’t a great idea, and not just because of his fake British accent. His smarmy mannerisms, sycophantic yet sneering, are a tip-off, as is her missing passport, though those alone aren’t reason to suspect he’s been hiding under her bed at night and chloroforming her. Or has he? Given the way Alberto Lopez’s script toys with temporal linearity, also blurring the lines between what’s real and what’s in Malak’s head, it’s tricky to give a plot summary that reflects the way events play out.
She probably should have been more suspicious when Victor “saves” her from a mugger (Ross Anderson) who he viciously beats up, though the wily concierge couldn’t have foreseen that this would be the catalyst for Malak’s flaky neighbor Ruby (Kirsty Besterman) to suggest she borrow her gun. There are plenty of other signs that things aren’t right, such as the strange rash she’s developed, not to mention the sudden cockroach invasion in her apartment. Vivid nightmares that seem real are making it increasingly difficult for her – and the viewer – to distinguish between what’s actually happening and what’s part of her agitated imagination, though Victor is clearly more than merely the invention of her fevered brain.
About two-thirds of the way in the focus shifts away from Malak for a dissatisfying length of time, and though she returns, the absence doesn’t work. Much the same can be said about a number of strands that weave in and out, designed to muddle narrative complacency, yet the film loses a grip on what it’s trying to do. Unsettling projections into the future in which the couple have a son, Yousef (Aliel Moussawi), seem to stoke reflections on Malak’s hormonal state-of-mind, but Christopher Oliva’s editing doesn’t do cohesion any favors; the same can be said about scenes between Victor and Doris (Gay Soper), a mother-like figure with Alzheimer’s whose role in all this remains murky apart from a broad attempt to generate unease around the whole mother-child enigma.
Of course Rosemary’s Baby also engages with a pregnant woman’s neuroses, yet Roman Polanski’s adaptation of Ira Levin’s novel plays with Rosemary’s hysteria and then shows it to be far more than prepartum ravings. Rupture instead leads us to question whether Malak’s torments spring entirely from her pregnancy, adding a rigidly archaic Freudian overlay on top of the unclear storytelling. A couple of special effects scenes in which Malak and Victor appear to be out of time and space, viewing each other from opposite windows, is an intriguing touch that spurs a greater sense of gratifying contemplation than most other elements, leading us to question whether both Malak and Victor are connecting through past and future, but to what conclusion?
The evocation of hermetic, deadened space fits with the Argento vibe, though tonalities can’t be judged since color correction is presumably ongoing. Music is unevenly used, such as Henry Hall and His Orchestra’s “Hush, Hush, Hush, Here Comes the Bogey Man,” an amusing choice which Jamjoom cuts off too soon, before he lets it blossom to full effect.
Director: Hamzah Jamjoom
Screenplay: Alberto Lopez, Hamzah Jamjoom
Cast: Sumaya Rida, Fayez Bin Jurays, Billy Zane, Gay Soper, Gabriel Spahiu, Ana Udroiu, Emilio Doorgasingh, Hugo Stone, Clive Carter, Nicola Harrison, Kirsty Besterman, Ross Anderson, Cristian Popa, Diana Vladu, Kevin Kennedy, Andrew David, Nadia Malaika, Yamen Aliel Moussawi, Ayato Funatsu, Alexandra Salceanu, Rena Popescu.
Producer: Aymen Khoja
Co-producers: Gabi Antal, Costin Rantes
Executive producer: Peter Smith, Ali Jaafar
Cinematography: Radu Voinea
Production design: Nora Dumitrescu
Costume design: Claudia Puietu
Editing: Christopher Oliva
Music: Christopher Benstead
Sound: Iulian Serbanescu
Production company: An MBC Studios presentation of a Plot Point 1 production (Saudi Arabia)
Venue: Red Sea International Film Festival (International competition)
In English, Arabic
115 Minutes
