I didn’t realize before now that “rape and revenge” was a genre, so I naively hoped for something subversive from Coralie Fargeat’s thriller Revenge. Three hunters on a desert expedition assault and attempt to kill the mistress of one of the guys, leaving her for dead, but she survives and stalks them to their doom. Many, many shots of Matilda Lutz’s bum accompany her transformation from lollipop-fellating playgirl to attractively blood-doused, undie-clad she-Rambo.
The dudes are all pretty standard entitled thugs, except that they speak in heavy Belgian and French accents. (Vincent Colombe is effectively, revoltingly chummy as the beta-male rapist, the only villain who actually resembles a fleshed-out human. You will not feel sorry for him no matter what happens to that flesh.) The only real surprise is the sheer volume of gore: If gouged eyeballs, exploded heads, impaled torsos, and beautiful naked people flailing through pools of vital fluids are what you crave, you will be a fan, and I won’t judge you.