The Vigil (2019), written and directed by Keith Thomas, is a wonderfully Jewish horror movie. Centering on Yakov, an ex-Orthodox Jew who gets roped into being a shomer, the film provides some genuine scares and raises some complex questions. Perhaps the most complicated idea explored is that of community versus individuality and isolation.
Before we discuss the themes, it will be helpful to explain some details about the plot. As with any religion, Judaism is complex. There are many levels of observance, but the dichotomy presented in The Vigil is between a Hasidic Brooklyn community and a support group for people who have stepped away. The Hasidic Jewish movement was founded by Rabbi Israel ben Eliezer, more often known as the Baal Shem Tov, in Ukraine in the 18th century. Although, at its inception, Hasidism was very modern and progressive, emphasizing the practice of ideas over the study of them, Hasidim are nowadays seen as old-fashioned and conservative. Most Hasidic communities today are in New York and Israel, and they are usually rather insular. As such, The Vigil takes place in a Hasidic part of Brooklyn, and traditions are incredibly important. The protagonist, Yakov, although no longer observant, takes on the night job of being a shomer because he needs money. A shomer is the person who watches and prays over a dead body before it is taken for burial. Since this is an Orthodox community, the use of technology, like cell phones, while carrying out rituals is frowned upon. Yakov may no longer believe in the laws of Hasidism, but he still tries to respect them. We now have a creepy, superstitious setting and multilayered conflict.
Many people who leave strictly religious communities deal with some sort of PTSD. Although Religious Trauma Syndrome isn’t officially recognized by the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, it is absolutely a real phenomenon. It should also be mentioned that not all who leave religion experience RTS, and not all religious communities are cult-like or abusive. Going back to The Vigil, Yakov partakes in a support group for ex-Hasidim. In the first scene, a multifaceted question is raised: Are rabbis protecting their communities from outside influence, or are they keeping them from such influence? The insularity of Hasidim makes it difficult to leave, as the secular world is largely alien to them. It is not easy to leave what you know. One detail I appreciated in the movie was that one of the members of the support group still wears his yarmulke. This enforces the idea that there are levels of observance, and they’re all valid; it’s not a black and white matter.
Related to the secluded community in Brooklyn is the fact that it is actually located in a densely populated city. Jews experience antisemitic violence regardless of their location, but it can be harder to avoid when placed in the middle of a largely secular, potentially judgmental environment. Part of the trauma that Yakov experienced is witnessing his younger brother’s death after antisemitic harassment. The brother is accidentally killed by a car after trying to run away from the attackers. Understandably, Yakov has flashbacks to this incident and relies on medication and support from a psychiatrist to function. Another detail I loved was that he is not looked down upon for his mental health. While it does play into the unfolding terrors, the main conflict with it occurs because he gaslights himself. It is primarily an internal struggle.
The body that Yakov watches over is that of a Holocaust survivor from Buchenwald. “Do you know my husband?” his wife asks at one point. “He was broken by memories.” The Holocaust is a fact in the film, but it is not the source from which the horror arises. Instead, the divide between isolation and community is of utmost importance. In a way, The Vigil mirrors William Peter Blatty’s novel The Exorcist and William Friedkin’s movie adaptation of the same name. Religion obviously plays a key role in both stories, but neither shames the secular world (although an argument can be made that The Exorcist was written for that purpose. But authorial intent is irrelevant to perception.)
Engaging in philosophy, providing genuine scares and unnerving body horror, and displaying Jewish culture in an authentic way all make The Vigil a successful movie. The film will not only scare you, but it will also make you question your values. Is the individual or the community more important? How strictly should we follow traditions? When, if ever, is it appropriate to leave? If we must leave, how severely should we sever ties? The Vigil is a terrific addition to the severely lacking subgenre of Jewish horror.