Sundance 2021: IN THE EARTH Review–Hypnotic Folk Horror
Starring Joel Fry and Ellora Torchia
Written by Ben Wheatley
Directed by Ben Wheatley
In a terse pre-screening Q&A, writer/director Ben Wheatley remarked that while In the Earth is not explicitly about the COVID-19 pandemic, it would be disingenuous to say that it ignores the politics of the time. Conceived, written, and filmed in the peak of the pandemic (filming wrapped last summer), In the Earth is– certainly curiously– only tangentially a pandemic horror movie. Yes, characters are isolated and allude to some unnamed virus that’s locked most of the world down, but the ravaging disease is merely window-dressing to the story Ben Wheatley really wants to tell. Problem is, it’s never quite clear what that story is.
Joel Fry and Ellora Torchia star as a scientist Martin and park ranger Alma respectively, both of whom are tasked with making the two-day hike to Dr. Wendell’s (Hayley Squires) wooded camp where she’s ostensibly working on crop yield research. On their second night in the woods, Martin and Alma are attacked by an unknown assailant, and when they come to, they find most of their belongings destroyed and, puzzlingly, their shoes missing. Shortly thereafter, the pair are taken in by Zack (Reece Shearsmith). Horror commences.
To reveal anything more would risk spoilers, and for all its quirks, In the Earth is admittedly ambitious in its intentions, shifting between sub-genres in rapid-fire succession, and most of the movie’s most visceral pleasures lie in seeing just what kind of movie In the Earth is posed to become next. There’s body-horror, stalk-and-kill slasher sequences, folk terror, and an overarching theme of eco-terror that, if nothing else, imbues In the Earth with an identity all its own.
In fits, that identity is compelling, hypnotic, and terrifying, The Blair Witch Project by way of Annihilation. Alchemists buried deep within the earth and nature reclaiming the providence of borrowed bodies. It’s cerebral stuff, made all the more mesmeric by Clint Mansell’s pulsating score and Nick Gillespie’s (a routine Wheatley collaborator) stellar outdoor photography. The woods are alive, both literally and figuratively, and it’s a thrill to behold.
That thrill however, as noted before, is ephemeral. For all the heightened talk of coppice deities and micro molecular communication, In the Earth’s genre thrills are brass-necked and colorless. Most of the movie feels as if Wheatley is at war with himself. Conventional and grounded naturalism– Torchia in particular is stellar as the incredulous park escort– is elevated to art-house sensibilities. That doesn’t always work. In the Earth is thus victim to a discordant interplay that at once wants audiences to engage cerebrally while appealing to more conventional genre tropes. That two of the more visually arresting sequences are flanked by limp survival thrills is more the norm than the outlier.
Nonetheless, In the Earth emerges a winner for its sheer audacity alone. Early allusions to Parnag Fegg, a mythic spirit of the woods, pay off in arresting and unexpected ways. Performances across the board are beyond solid, more assured of the vagaries of Earth’s mood than even the movie itself. The ending, too, while not entirely clear, is ripe for discussion, ensuring that In the Earth will have considerable legs on forums and interpersonal circles for years to come. There are primordial murals and flashes of gore, one of which in particular rivals Wheatley’s own work on Kill List, and even the most steadfast of genre fans will find themselves bewitched and haunted by the wailing of the woods Wheatley’s staked claim in.
Early reviews of In the Earth will likely follow similar formulas, namely the common pairing of “movie meets movie”– I myself noted that it felt like 10 Cloverfield Lane meets Midsommar. That’s due in large part to the motley pieces Wheatley’s borrowed to assemble something all his own. Inspiration, references, and the tapestries of other films– some worse, some better– are inducted into something both unique and familiar. Mileage will certainly vary, but like the primeval monolith at the center of the woods, it will be hard to look away. In the Earth is calling and communication, seeking to return audiences to their own primal notions of what horror and filmmaking is and can be. It’s trippy, uneven, but always interesting. It’s not the trip I expected, but it’s one I’m glad to have taken.
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In the Earth
Summary
Though wildly uneven, In the Earth is still a hypnotic and frightening slice of folk and eco horror.
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