There are some stories that are universally known and adored, and can be traced back over the centuries, or even going as far back as antiquity. It can often be fascinating to see where these stories originated, and while it is more likely than not that they emerged through the oral traditions that populated most ancient cultures, long before writing became a widespread form of communication, there is always some mystique in attempting to not only find their origins, but also the meaning that exists beneath their surface. In her incredible sophomore directorial outing, Julia Jackman chooses to look at these classical folktales in a slightly different way, using them as the starting point for 100 Nights of Hero, her genre-bending folkloric odyssey in which she defies traditional narrative structure and pushes against the idea of categorisation to deliver one of the year’s most spellbinding and delicately-crafted works. The story is set in a fictional land many centuries ago, where the people are under the rule of “Birdman”, who exists somewhere between king and deity. In his empire, every couple are to have children, and those who don’t are set to be severely punished under the belief that procreation is more important than anything else. Our protagonist is Cherry, who is married to the stern Jerome, and with whom she has yet to even attempt to conceive a baby. However, he is given an ultimatum by the governing body: within one hundred days, he must have produced an heir. He decides to leave his wife in their vast castle, in the hopes that absence makes the heart grow fonder. However, it is merely a test of her loyalty, as she will be kept company by Manfred, his alluring friend, whose only goal is to seduce the young woman. The problem is, her wandering eye fixates not on him, but rather Hero, her shy but attentive servant, and with whom she shares far more than she does with any man in her life. A film that takes a simple concept and turns it into something quite beautiful, 100 Nights of Hero is a fascinating piece of cinema that pays tribute to not only the past, but also the art of storytelling itself, challenging the confines of both genre and structure to become an enticing voyage into a world that never existed.

We see so many strong works based on classical mythology or folktales (or at least use them as their foundation) that finding one that adds an entirely new perspective can be a challenge. Mercifully, Jackman isn’t too focused on originality so much as she is communicating a core set of themes that reflect her own interests in the material and what they represent. She sets out to adapt the graphic novel of the same title by Isabel Greenberg, which was in itself an effort to rework tales from thousands of years ago into something resonant but not necessarily contemporary. Something that is oddly missing in the majority of these works is a sense of queerness – not necessarily in terms of sexual identity (although that is part of the story), but rather through the careful and deliberate subversions of traditions and tropes that have always been the core of these stories, presenting an idealised version of a past that frankly was not nearly as neat and polished as the tales we heard in our youth may suggest. However, rather than going the route of someone like Angela Carter, who made a career out of redefining the fairytale medium as one filled with violence and pulsating desire, Jackman (much like the author of the novel on which this film is based) goes in a slightly different direction, presenting a version of the classic A Thousand and One Nights that is not set within a recognisable version of the past, but rather a fantastical alternative, one that isn’t defined by mythological creatures or magic, but rather shrouded in a kind of mystique that draws the viewer in, piquing our curiosity through dreamlike logic. It is through this that the film leaves quite an impression – a heightened fable about loyalty suddenly becomes a vigorous, lust-filled exploration of desire. While most fairytales conclude with a wedding that allows the characters to live happily ever after, 100 Nights of Hero chooses instead to start in the aftermath of a marriage, showing that a happy ending is far from ideal, especially when such strict, rigorous conditions have to be met for it to be considered even vaguely successful. It’s a complex idea that Jackman executes beautifully, plucking out core themes from the source material and adding her own interpretation, which gives it a unique layer that defies simply adapting the material

If any proof is needed that 100 Nights of Hero is a very special film with an abundance of potential, consider the wildly impressive cast that Jackman managed to assemble, despite having only made one small film previously. The concept of this film is so extraordinary that it attracted some of the most interesting actors working in the industry today, all of whom are more than willing to commit to playing roles in this delightfully offbeat film. It’s not difficult to see why they would be attracted to the material – in a cinematic landscape driven by conventions, this film offered them the chance to do something starkly different, donning beautifully-designed costumes and meandering around some incredibly beautiful surroundings, which only made the film that much more appealing. The film is primarily led by three actors, all of whom are mostly quite established – Maika Monroe is the young woman caught between the young nobleman who sets out to seduce her, and the servant who actually succeeds. The former is played by Nicholas Galitzine, who has the opportunity to shed his usual dashing heroic image to play someone much more sinister and unsettling, which proves his talent, while Emma Corrin is wonderfully endearing as the titular character, the quiet but resilient Hero who anchors the story and acts as our primary perspective. The central trio are all wonderful, tackling these roles with such incredible dedication, despite the parts being intentionally quite vague in terms of how they are written. They’re supported by some equally wonderful actors, including brief appearances from veterans like Richard E. Grant and Felicity Jones (in the sense that they’re the more established of the cast, and bring a sense of consistency to what proves to be quite a youthful work), as well as a very rare acting appearance from Charli XCX, whose gradual journey towards acting has been an unexpected delight, made even more effective by the fact that she does have some talent as an actor that proves she is not merely driven by vanity. A strong cast allows for a solid film, and the results certainly do speak for themselves, as this film proves in abundance.

What proves to be oddly intriguing about this film is how it sets out to revisit these classical stories without necessarily modernising them, choosing instead to go in a completely different direction. The narrative implications of this approach have been discussed, but where 100 Nights of Hero truly soars is in the execution. Jackman proves herself to be an incredibly gifted visual stylist, and while the art in Greenberg’s graphic novel is idiosyncratic and delightful in its own way, a film adaptation could not rely on the same simplistic compositions. Working with a team consisting of some incredibly gifted artisans, all of whom are beyond talented in their respective fields, Jackman brings this world to life on screen so beautifully – the costuming is impeccable, the production design absolutely stunning, and the cinematography by Xenia Patricia evokes the works of Sergei Parajanov, whose colourful tableaux changed how cinema is crafted. The director is working with some incredibly challenging sources as her inspiration, and while the film may occasionally veer towards the absurd, all of it is entirely purposeful – this is an example of nuanced maximalism, where a director is capable of challenging the confines of the medium and pushing boundaries both narratively and visually, without it becoming unnecessarily excessive. The attention to detail is astonishing, with every frame being a stunning composition all on its own, leading to an extraordinarily captivating film, even if we simply want to bask in the beauty of the piece. It does help that it is equally as emotionally rich – the story could have been executed with a blatant flippancy and a disregard for authenticity (especially considering it is a fantasy film), but the sincerity that drives the film is equally as important as its visual aesthetic, with Jackman finding the perfect balance between the two and making for a truly tremendous piece of cinema.

By the time we reach the end of 100 Nights of Hero, we’ve experienced a remarkable achievement, a film that transcends its already compelling source material, becoming entirely its own. Jackman is not a filmmaker who we immediately recognise based on prior work, but she’s certainly going to be someone we watch going forward, especially since this film demonstrates her incredible ability to merge visual splendour with emotional depth, taking a fantastic graphic novel and crreating a world that feels simultaneously mythical and authentic, a rare combination that is the very core of what makes this such a special film. The process of reimagining classical folktales is not entirely uncommon, but this film filters it through a unique lens, challenging conventions in terms of the underlying themes (tackling subjects like desire, loyalty) and the overall narrative structure, with the very concept of living “happily ever after” being entirely dismantled over the course of this film. Anchored by a cast of actors whose performances are uniformly exceptional, the central trio in particular brings a wealth of nuance and soul to a story that could have easily become distant and overly stylised without their spirited performances. Every detail, from the costumes and the production design to the cinematography and music, feels meticulous and intentional, and enshrouds this film in a dreamlike atmosphere that draws the viewer in and holds our attention. A film that moves at a deliberate pace and in the process rewards those who are willing to show some patience by sitting with the film and considering its underlying themes, 100 Nights of Hero is an extraordinary work, a film that lingers with the viewer long after it has ended. It asks us to reconsider the stories we have always known, looking at the messages lurking beneath the surface and wondering just how many possible interpretations we can discover if we simply allow ourselves to be challenged, leading to a film that is as visually striking as it is narratively compelling and emotionally rich.