Publication Date: 11-06-2025

Vincent Must Die (2023) review

Dir. Stéphan Castang

By: Steve Pulaski

Rating: ★★★½

Vincent Must Die was screened as part of AMC Theaters’ “Halloween Double Feature,” alongside Babak Anvari’s Hallow Road. Interjected between the two films was a 10-minute intermission as well as A Busload of Thrills and Cool Casual Comfort, an animated short that spoofs the in-theater Let’s All Go to the Lobby advertisement in wickedly demented fashion. While XYZ Films — the distributor of this one-week-only event — likely opted to package these films together as a gimmick in hopes it would inspire more impulsive ticket sales, this was a fun way to spend three-and-a-half-hours at the movies.

Being this was the first theatrical wide release for two new releases in a “double feature” presentation since Grindhouse back in 2007, it goes to show how seeing two movies for the price of one can still inspire excitement and intrigue. Tis pity general audiences seem as adverse to the concept as they do subtitles.

Speaking of subtitles, one of the only unfortunate aspects of this double feature was XYZ Films’ misguided decision to take Vincent Must Die — a French production — and not only utilize English dubbing but also employ AI to map the characters’ lips to match the dialog. In a time when corporations are embracing AI to a degree that’s pissing people off more than doing any good for the folks forced to grapple with it (if they even still have a job), this move feels especially low-rent for a notable film studio; one that gave us one of the best horror movies of the year in Strange Harvest.

Despite this grave miscalculation, Vincent Must Die is a film as lovely as it is brutal. A little bit of A Quiet Place crossed with the under-seen Nicolas Cage comedy Dream Scenario, Stéphan Castang’s feature debut introduces us to the meek, doe-eyed title character (Karim Leklou). Vincent moves through life rather unremarkably; content, but not inspired. He works as a graphic designer who rides his bike to work everyday, and doesn’t mind spending his evenings on the internet eating fun-size chocolate bars. He’s seemingly the last person anyone would want to assault, which is why it’s beyond strange when, one day at work, an intern he barely knows waltzes up to his desk and beats him over the head with his laptop.

With a black eye and a cut on his cheek, Vincent is perplexed, but goes back to work. Sometime later, another coworker approaches him and stabs him repeatedly in the wrist with a pen. It’s as if he’s slept with their wives, or questioned their manhood, but Vincent is clearly not the type to do anything of the sort. Everyone who attacks him has the same blank expression and gridlocked focus on him in the moments leading up to the violence. Even more strange is his attackers have no memory of the incident. A visit to a cornerstore results in an old drifter (Michaël Perez) recognizing Vincent’s problem and offering some vague but no less empathetic context to his plight. He tells Vincent to avoid eye contact, adopt a protective dog — Vincent obliges by taking in the cutest little bulldog you’ll ever see — and seek counsel in an online group known as “The Sentinel.”

After realizing his father (François Chatto) and new girlfriend have made use of his childhood room, Vincent packs up his Peugeot and shacks up in his family’s vacation nook in the French countryside. He adopts a hermetic life, ordering days worth of food from a local diner, where he meets a waitress named Margaux (a lovely Vimala Pons), who comes to understand his plight albeit wanting to kill him for no reason at all.

The violence in Vincent Must Die is bloody and forceful. Poor Vincent takes a ton of blows, and even narrowly evades some, including one sequence, which has him running out of a supermarket Shaun of the Dead-style in order to prove a point to Margaux. It’s enough to turn you off, and for that I can’t blame you.

However, Castang and screenwriter Mathieu Naert manage to make this a film that isn’t exclusively about brute force. The final hour is almost exclusively fixated on Vincent and Margaux. His problems revolve around people inexplicably kicking the crap out of him. Her problems are some of the same, suggesting a contentious relationship with pimps, gambling goons, or something of the sort. The two find mutual affection with one another, and even go as far as to mitigate Margaux’s violent tendencies when they arise, and vice-versa. I know nothing about Stéphan Castang as a man nor a filmmaker, but judging by the way in which he presents this story, I can tell he’s a romantic at heart. That accounts for a lot when you spend an upwards of two hours watching people get beaten bloody. At least Castang and Naert make it worth your while, and give you both an undercurrent and reassurance of optimism and romance during this time.

It helps when the cast looks like ordinary individuals instead of movie stars. On top of being a strong performer through multiple tonal changes of comedy and action, Karim Leklou has an innocence that can’t be corrupted. He looks like an amalgam of Adam Sandler and Pauly Shore; a schlubby everyman with a pure heart and honest eyes. Naert’s screenplay might be solid, but it’s Leklou’s conveyance of innocence that does the film justice. We come to respect Vincent’s defensive ways. He seeks answers and doesn’t succumb to his fate. He fights back, all while wondering why he doesn’t simply buy a pair of sunglasses. It doesn’t matter. Such a plothole would mean more if his relationship with Pons’ Margaux wasn’t so touching and earnest.

Vincent Must Die hit me where it needed to. It’s a film that seems to borrow a lot of its carnage and exposition from other works like 28 Days Later. You might like it. Judging Letterboxd reviews, I seem to be in the minority with how much it hit me. What I do know is this: the first half of my “Halloween Double Feature” hit me with something more emotionally powerful than I imagined. That alone is noteworthy.

My review of Hallow Road

Starring: Karim Leklou, Vimala Pons, François Chattot, and Michaël Perez. Directed by: Stéphan Castang.