Surrealist wonderland stories saw their last heyday in the ‘80s, with features like Jim Henson’s Labyrinth, or Neil Jordan’s The Company of Wolves. Horror movies with a folk angle have, recently, garnered not only cult success but critical acclaim, with films like Robert Eggers’ The Witch becoming an instant darling. Despite these two genres' similarities, it is unusual to find a movie at the cross-section of a fairytale and folk horror. Enter Rainer Sarnet’s internationally acclaimed November. Best described as a dark fairytale, 2017's November loosely follows a young girl, who happens to be a werewolf, Liina (Rea Lest). Liina is embroiled in a love triangle with Hans (Jörgen Liik), a local boy. Hans is in love with a sleepwalking baroness. As the three teens pine, Sarnet takes his viewer on a guided tour of their village. There, automatons made of farming equipment steal cattle, townspeople con the devil, and the personification of the black plague swears on the Bible. A love triangle is no new story, but the unreality of the town makes November an instant classic.

‘November’ Is Anti-Horror Folk Horror

Watching November is more of a bizarre experience than a terrifying one. Unreality is normal for the villagers, while almost nothing on screen is immediately recognizable to the viewer. The opening scene of November features an automaton stealing a cow. The automaton is made entirely of 19th-century farming equipment and animal skulls, technology that is likely to be foreign to a modern audience. Not only is the automaton visually atypical, but it also performs feats that feel impossible. The automaton travels far, takes flight, and commits theft. This introductory scene functions as a bucket of ice over the viewer's head. Nothing in November will be what the audience expects. Nothing can be trusted to operate as usual. Surrealism is at the forefront of this film, not just to create some stunning visuals, but to generate the subtle horror November is most interested in.

There are no jump scares, gore, or loud noises in November. Even dialogue is rare, with the camera doing most of the talking. There are long stretches where no music fills the background. Instead, there is the sound of breathing, a rustle of fabric, or the scrape of rusted metal as an automaton pinwheels around a corner. The absence of a normal soundtrack leaves the audience sensitive to any noise. The characters are tense from living in such a hostile environment, and the viewer is just as on edge about how unconventional the film is.

Religion and the Occult Create a Unique Mythology in 'November'

The only overt “horror staples” throughout November are the inclusion of the occult. Liina is a werewolf, a fact that seems to have little bearing on her life. At night, under the full moon, she howls and transforms into a wolf with a pristine coat. She roams the countryside and lies with Hans, who believes her to be a wild animal. The scenes of Liina’s transformation are brimming with moody, gothic imagery. The moon practically glows against the black of the sky; Liina is shot from below as she howls; the wolf's pelt is fluffy and white. Her lycanthropy is not even significant to the film. Liina's ability to transform is unremarked on and only used as a way to be close to Hans.

When Liina grows desperate for Hans’ love, she consults with witches. Their spells are archaic and their advice is brutal. And yet, the occult magic of the film is grounded in humanity. One witch, Minna, tells Liina to shoot the baroness with an arrow to earn Hans’ affection. When she cannot do that, the witches dress Liina in the baroness’ dress and veil to trick Hans. These are desperate human acts, but the imagery surrounding them elevates them to magic.

The villagers are devout Christians, but their practice is foreign to the audience and non-villager characters. When the baroness sees the villagers spitting out their communion wafers to make bullets, she is horrified and calls it heresy. The church is a frequent setting in November. Someone tries to steal gold peelings from the altar and is beaten by a nun. Prominent in the sanctuary is a statue of the crucified Jesus. Several times throughout the film, a shot of the statue will be shown. As the drama ramps up, the statue begins to inexplicably bleed human blood. A Dutch angle shot, with little fanfare given to the phenomenon, the image of the statue bleeding is haunting. The more traditional religious elements are regarded by the characters and film as more mythical than the practice of occult magic.

‘November’ Tells 101 Fairytales

November is based on Andrus Kivirähk’s 2000 novel, Old Barny aka November. The film and novel both pull on local, Estonian legends and Christian customs. Much of November is a meeting of pagan iconography with early Christian beliefs. The result is a distinct mythology that makes the village feel solid and real. There is a film of grime covering the village of November. Every character is doused in soot and dirt. Precious items are stolen from the manor house on the hill and quickly rendered destroyed. When Liina pays for a strip of silk, the other villagers call her a whore. When her face is cleaned at the end of the film, it is quickly covered by a veil. The filth of the film is no longer the standard, with modern retellings focusing on the riches part of rags-to-riches tales. Instead, November feels like a callback to the Brothers Grimm stories. The movie feels old, in part from the black-and-white filter and in part from its devotion to the traditional grit of classic fables.

November folds fairytales into fairytales. While the basic plot of the movie is a love triangle, the depth with which the story is told will tug at your heart strings and might just make you cry. Near the end of the film, a doomed love story is retold to Hans. He learns of a tragic couple who floated down the very river they stand before, and how they threw their priceless rings into the water. Later, Hans body falls from a wagon into that very river. Liina drowns herself moments later. The two bodies tangle into an embrace and kiss. As they sink down into the dark water, bubbles plume up. Only Liina’s body is clear, lit in a bright white while everything else is dark. The shot is stunning, and arguably the film’s most iconic.

Sarnet’s November takes his audience to a dark fairyland. No creature one encounters is all that friendly, and most of the people are covered in dirt and grime. Yet, it’s impossible to look away from this film. Like every good wonderland, the world is visually engaging and enticing. The pure unreality of the automatons, the humanity of the occult, and the otherworldliness of religion all coalesce to create a moving, but essentially dark 21st-century fairytale.

November is currently available to stream on Kanopy in the U.S.