Few feature debuts in the last decade have been as memorable and bone-chilling as Rose Glass’ Saint Maud, which opened in 2019 to glowing critical reception. Since then, we (or at least I) have been waiting with bated breath for Glass’ sophomore effort, Love Lies Bleeding. Though the film’s graphic makeup effects and third act twists are holdovers from the horror sensibilities in Saint Maud, Love Lies Bleeding is a far more intimate Bonnie And Clyde (or, rather, Bonnie and Bonnie) story that soars as a torrid romance rather than a chilling parable.
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Starring Kristen Stewart and Katy O’Brian, Love Lies Bleeding follows Lou (Stewart), a haunted, reclusive lesbian gym manager living in New Mexico in the late ’80s. Her quiet life is disrupted by the arrival of the beautiful, charismatic Jackie (O’Brian), an aspiring bodybuilder who trades on her looks to hitchhike her way across the country, hoping to one day compete at a bodybuilding championship in Las Vegas. When Jackie rolls into town and takes up training at Lou’s gym, a fire quickly kindles, but Lou’s checkered past and involvement in her family’s (Ed Harris, Dave Franco) bloody business threatens to tear them apart for good.
Where Saint Maud was a straight-up supernatural horror movie (albeit a cerebral, ruminative one), Love Lies Bleeding instead follows the framework of a neo-noir, set against the backdrop of ‘80s Albuquerque. But, as with her previous work, Glass’ adherence to genre conventions and familiar character beats is underscored by a gnarlier, darker penchant for extreme brutality and emotionality, most often realized through Katy O’Brian’s Jackie.
But while the story is peppered with moments of sudden horror, grief, and lust, the film’s structure itself is far more reminiscent of a Romeo and Juliet-esque mob flick, with Jackie and Lou as the doomed lovers racing to escape Albuquerque’s violent underbelly. To that end, Love Lies Bleeding leans heavily into familiar structure and act beats—Lou spends most of the film sullenly skulking between her gym, the gun range where Jackie works, and her brother-in-law’s house.
The frequent reuse of locations goes a long way to create a specific, claustrophobic setting, but it makes the hour-and-44-minute film feel far longer, especially with a protagonist as taciturn as Lou. Her story (and the motive for the central revenge plot) revolves around a strained relationship with her mob boss father (Harris) and their disagreement over how to handle JJ (Franco), Lou’s abusive brother-in-law.
Unbeknownst to Lou, Jackie also has her own history with JJ, and when his abuse bubbles over and lands Lou’s sister in the hospital, the blossoming lovers take it upon themselves to right the wrong Lou Sr. refuses to acknowledge. It’s a tried-and-true motive that, though familiar, is made nonetheless compelling through Jena Malone’s performance as Beth and horrifying FX makeup from Frieda Valenzuela.
Though the eventual payoff of the revenge plot makes for a violent rip ride of an act three, Love Lies Bleeding’s first 45 minutes feel like another film entirely—a steamy, intimate romantic drama. There’s an easy, undeniably chemistry between Stewart and O’Brian that makes watching them fall in love feel like an intrusion on a real relationship—the sex scenes in the first act are directed and performed with a particularly memorable tenacity.
The strength and believability of the Jackie/Lou bond is in turn what makes the film’s most successful elements soar—we’ve seen them fall in love, and we feel just as strongly as they do that they belong together. Of course, this is a Rose Glass film, and these moments of tenderness and fledgling love are almost immediately followed by reminders of both characters’ extreme instability and individual inner lives—though Jackie may be more capable of physical atrocities, both women have seen their fair share of violence.
Once things finally hit a fever pitch turning into act three, Love Lies Bleeding fully kicks into high gear, moving from centering Stewart’s mellow, downtrodden Lou to channeling the ferocious, energetic Jackie. Katy O’Brian’s performance is breathtaking—though her physical strength is undeniably formidable, there’s a clear vulnerability and an endearing sweetness to Jackie that makes her intensely likable and completely believable as a loose canon prone to the odd murder every now and again.
While the meandering, sometimes arbitrary mobster backstory and tediously familiar plot contrivances may overstay their welcome, the big, bizarre swings Glass takes in the final minutes of Love Lies Bleeding more than make up for the film’s more formulaic tendencies. Full of striking visuals from cinematographer Ben Fordesman, a healthy dash of horror and sci-fi in the script, and a monumental performance from O’Brian, Loves Lies Bleeding is another surrealist sapphic gem from Rose Glass.