THE WOMAN IN BLACK: ANGEL OF DEATH. Mediocrity becomes quality

Sometimes I surprise myself when formulating a critique of a given film. It often happens that I approach a work with a certain leniency, even when it fully deserves to be torn apart. I can’t quite pinpoint where this tendency comes from, but I suspect it has a lot to do with the expectations I had beforehand. If those expectations were minimal—because I knew from the start that the film had little to offer—then it was much easier for me to overlook its flaws. When there are no expectations, it’s the first impression and the atmosphere created in the opening minutes that decide everything. If the story draws me in and the seat doesn’t dig into my back, it becomes surprisingly hard to call such a screening a failure.The Woman in Black: Angel of Death, the sequel to The Woman in Black (2012), is one of those films.

The first part of this gothic horror was a surprisingly solid piece—moody and subtly playing with terror, very much in line with the legendary Hammer style. Its successor is only slightly weaker, though its conceptual repetitiveness is plain to see. But I set the bar low going in, so I didn’t bother much with its obvious shortcomings. Don’t get me wrong: I’m not praising a bad film here, but rather an average one that, under different circumstances, would have left me indifferent.

This is a story we’ve seen before—more than once. We return to a haunted house inhabited by the mysterious apparition of a woman. This time, the victims of her hauntings are a group of children and their caretakers who seek refuge in the old estate during air raids (the story is set during World War II). Horror doesn’t dominate the narrative, though; the tone leans more toward drama, making Angel of Death closer in spirit to films like The Orphanage or The Awakening.

And just as I’m usually bothered when a horror film fails to fulfill its primary purpose—namely, to scare—I can also accept that, in some cases, compromises are in order. Here, thanks to a blend of genre conventions and old-school filmmaking techniques, the darkness is meant to hide in the atmosphere of the setting—abandoned, fog-shrouded—not just in direct confrontations with evil. Still, I’m convinced many viewers will find Angel of Death hard to digest precisely because it’s not quite what a horror film is “supposed” to be.

Although the plot is built on clichés that have been recycled countless times, their stylistic framing allowed me to glide through the film painlessly. I genuinely appreciate the work of the set designers, who, by paying attention to the smallest details of the main location—both front and back—helped create a strong sense of place. I’ve always found abandoned spaces fascinating, so I enjoy it when films give them the attention they deserve. The music, too, adds its part: though familiar, it’s played on tried and true notes and, most importantly, blends seamlessly into the picture without being overemphasized.

When, in the final scene, the protagonist walks down the corridor toward the source of a strange, unmistakable sound, I already know how this will end. The Woman in Black has chosen her next child victim and intends to drag them into darkness. But what matters here is not the resolution itself, but how the story is told—slowly, without flashiness, without straining for originality, and, not insignificantly, with a pretty face at the forefront. And to my surprise, I find myself concluding that sometimes, it takes very little for me to regard mediocrity as quality.