Conan the Barbarian has been replicated countless times since he was originally created by Robert E. Howard in 1932, even if he’s infrequently discussed in the current cultural zeitgeist. In the 21st century, Conan is probably best recognized from either Arnold Schwarzenegger’s or Jason Momoa’s cinematic portrayals of the barbarian in the 1982 and 2011 fantasy flicks, both titled Conan the Barbarian. Even if you haven’t seen any Conan films, or read any of the original comics, or seen the cartoons, or played the video games (I digress), you know what Conan looks like: Tall, buff, shirtless, with long, dark hair and wielding a sword. He is white and male. Shockingly, in our modern world with lady Jedis and Supergirls, there has not yet been a gender-bent version of Conan. That is, until now. But French director Bertrand Mandico (After Blue) has bent and twisted the core story of Conan in more ways than one with She Is Conann.
Not only is Conan now a woman with an extra “n” at the end of her name, she is now also one person reincarnated five times, 10 years apart. She’s also gay as hell. After the murder of her mother, 15-year-old Conann (Claire Duburcq) is lusty for revenge. With the help of her leather-jacketed, dog-faced Hellhound companion Rainer (Mandico regular Elina Löwensohn), revenge is a goal all too easy to achieve. Teen Conann does not have long to bask in the sweetness of her victory however, as she is soon skewered by the 25-year-old version of herself (Christa Théret), my personal favorite version. Théret commands the screen with strength and grace, as any solid Conan figure should, for the miniscule amount of screentime she is afforded. There is a reason why Théret’s face is the one dominating the promotional materials.
Each version of Conann does not naturally flow into the next; instead, each reincarnation is a bloody struggle, as each Conann kills their old self. This is rather fitting for the nature of the story, not only because any good Conan tale comes with a healthy dose of violence, but also because the development of Mandico’s script is so jagged. One Conann’s “hero’s journey” has absolutely nothing to do with the next, save Rainer’s presence (“friendship” is not the right word). We’re jerked around from side quest to side quest instead of ever becoming fully immersed in one Conann’s development. The effect is that of a series of experimental short films, rather than that of one cohesive feature.
Take, for example, 35-year-old Conann (Sandra Parfait), with whom we spend the most time by far. A Black woman living happily in the Bronx with her girlfriend Sanja (Julia Riedler), this Conann has very little to do with any of the others, aside from her relationship to Rainer, whom she barely recognizes at first. The warrior has built a life for herself up here with us mere mortals, and does not wish to return back to the underworld with Rainer, but ends up giving in anyway. Mandico is neither interested in the intimate personal details of this particular Conann’s life as a human woman, nor the overall development of Conann as one hero.
The 35-year-old version of Conann section is disappointing because she only exists in relation to Rainer, not on her own terms. This principle can be applied to each section of Conann’s life: Rainer is not only present for, but also responsible for her birth, each subsequent rebirth, and her ultimate demise. Rainer is a genderfluid character—portrayed by a woman, but referred to using he/him pronouns and, you know, half dog, half human—so this is certainly not a case of one’s everyday heteronormative misogyny. Rainer’s own grappling with putting Conann on a pedestal is simply more interesting than Connan’s grappling with her constant state of rebirth. As a writer, consulting a woman might have done Mandico some good; as a director, he is too in love with the romantic trappings of the warrior to see her as a person, which is apparent in the figure of Rainer.
There is something to be said for subverting traditional audience expectations of what a hero looks like, and I do admire Mandico’s ambitious swings. If only they packed some sort of follow through. The truth of the matter is, Mandico’s dedication to making a statement about gender roles runs about as deep as that of the mainstream, which is to say, not very.
It’s Mandico’s commitment to practical special effects and real sets that elevates She Is Conann from the superhero shlock we’re used to seeing in the mainstream. Computer-generated effects dominate the action genre to the point that the actors often don’t have to be in the same green screen room at the same time. CGI can be integrated seamlessly into live-action footage in ways that enhance the films in question, but more recently it has completely taken over our screens—especially when it comes to pulpy superhero fiction—and we are rapidly tiring of staring blankly at a wholly computer-generated image, like so many that make up 2023’s The Flash.
She Is Conann provides an answer to our prayers for glorious squibs and tangibly surreal environments. These are sweaty people struggling it out in the hazy mud, tearing each other’s hearts out, not shiny figurines cleanly making quips in CG Valhalla. The creepy sensory effect—steaming blood, throbbing hearts—is striking. Common knowledge dictates that modern directors looking to make something surreal or strange on a limited budget must turn to digital effects, instead of taking the time and care to create something tactile. Mandico reminds us that old-school special effects are often much more fun to watch.
Fans of female-led body horror such as Titane will dig She Is Conann for its delicious violence, gender-bending “badassery” and surreal aesthetic. I only wish Mandico’s dedication to story or character development were as strong as his barbaric heroine.
Director: Bertrand Mandico
Writer: Bertrand Mandico
Starring: Elina Löwensohn, Julia Riedler, Claire Duburcq, Christa Théret, Sandra Parfait
Release Date: February 2, 2024
Brooklyn-based film writer Katarina Docalovich was raised in an independent video store and never really left. Her passions include sipping lime seltzer, trying on perfume and spending hours theorizing about Survivor. You can find her scattered thoughts as well as her writing on Twitter.