Perhaps it’s impossible to create a folk horror film that feels truly fresh. Maybe freshness is at odds with the very idea of folk horror. What director Daniel Kokotajlo, adapting Andrew Michael Hurley’s novel Starve Acre, manages in lieu of freshness is an enigmatic slow burn enlivened by memorable performances.
Richard (Matt Smith), Jules (Morfydd Clark) and their young son Owen (Arthur Shaw) are settling in. They’ve recently moved into Richard’s childhood home out in the bleak and foggy British countryside circa 1970-something. The fresh air will do Owen good, surely. I mean, nothing maleficent ever happens in situations like these. What could go wrong in a place called Starve Acre?
Unless Richard’s late father—and maybe rugged old neighbor Gordon (Sean Gilder, stellar)—dabbled in child abuse and the occult. Or the old tree trunk that Richard obsessively digs around is some kind of gateway. But what are the odds?
So much of Kokotajlo’s film pulls from existing genre fare: unhappy couple, new home with an ugly past, familial tragedy, father numbs himself with work while mother loses grip on reality.
But a handful of intriguing scenes and conversations, as well as an entire ensemble of strong performances, ensures that the creeping storyline captures and keeps your attention.
Little Arthur Shaw is a heartbreaker, so be prepared. Kokotajlo sidesteps overt gruesomeness to leave an impression that’s even more menacing. Gilder’s a solid salt-of-the-earth presence, offset admirably by Erin Richards. As Jules’s sister Harrie, she’s civility-meets-hardiness and her character feels deeply human and relatable.
But it’s Smith and Clark (the latter who was so astonishing in Rose Glass’s 2019 genre masterpiece, Saint Maud) who carry the film. Both deliver characteristically flawed but tender performances, each commanding the screen without an ounce of showiness.
Careful writing, some fine genre direction and misdirection, and these compelling performances help Starve Acre rise above its spooky familiarity. It’s not enough for Kokotajlo to leave you lying awake and hoping for dawn, but you won’t regret watching.
What a peculiarly Catholic sentiment. Like old school,
self-flagellating, “suffering cleanses” kind of Catholic: the agony and the
ecstasy. It’s in the eyes of the martyrs. This is how you see God.
This is what Maud wants.
Writer/director Rose Glass knows that Catholicism is one of
the most common elements in horror. You see it in the way she shoots down an
old staircase in an alley, or up at the high windows of a lovely manor.
There’s been a glut of uninspired, superficial drivel. But
there are also great movies: The Devils (1971), The Omen (1976),
and the Godfather of them all, The Exorcist (1973). Saint Maud
stakes its claim in this unholy ground with a singular vision of loneliness,
purpose and martyrdom.
Maud (an astonishing Morfydd Clark) has some undefined blood
and shame in her recent past. But she survived it, and she knows God saved her
for a reason. She’s still working out what that reason is when she meets Amanda
(Jennifer Ehle), a former choreographer now crumbling beneath lymphoma.
Maud cannot save Amanda’s body, but because of just the
right signs from Amanda, she is determined to save her soul.
Ehle’s performance strikes a perfect image of casual cruelty, her scenes with the clearly delicate Maud a dance of curiosity and unkindness. Ehle’s onscreen chemistry with Clark suggests the bored, almost regretful thrill of manipulation.
Clark’s searching, desperate performance is chilling. Glass routinely
frames her in ways to evoke the images of saints and martyrs, giving the film an
eerie beauty, one that haunts rather than comforts. The conversations and
pathos are so authentic that suddenly the behavior of one mad obsessive feels
less lurid and more tragic.
As a horror film, Saint Maud is a slow burn. Glass and crew repay you for your patience, though, with a smart film that believes in its audience. Her film treads the earth between mental illness and religious fervor, but its sights are on the horror of the broken hearted and lonesome.
Billed as a return to the old-school British horror anthology, Ghost Stories takes us through three paranormal cases passed from the chief investigator to a colleague he’s hoping can prove them false.
Ghost Stories is based on a popular stage play written by the film’s own co-writers and co-directors, Andy Nyman and Jeremy Dyson. Nyman also stars as Professor Goodman, the paranormalist who agrees to look into the trio of cases that muddled his hero and mentor.
The movie invests far more in this set up than expected, developing a fascinating connecting tale rather than a simple framing device that holds together a handful of otherwise disconnected shorts. Instead, we get a deeper story, one that influences and is influenced by the shorts in ways more organic than the run-of-the-mill anthology.
And though the three individual shorts contain nothing extraordinary in the way of scares, each offers a richly developed world full of detail and shadow. Every short has its own personality and style, although they all contain puzzle pieces that provide a coherence to the overall story, little items that range from the peculiar to the outright spooky.
A great deal of the success lies in the wonderfully human portrayal delivered by Nyman, who conveys humility, pomposity, self-righteousness, pity and terror in turns without ever hitting a false note. Other solid performances pepper the film. Martin Freeman is particularly engaging. Paul Whitehouse and Alex Lawther also bring uniquely high-strung characters to life.
As scares go, the first short packs the biggest wallop. A night guard at a dilapidated old asylum for women sees and hears strange things, leading to horror.
If that sounds like well-worn territory, that’s because it is. In fact, the three short films themselves don’t deliver much in the way of new scares, but that isn’t Nyman and Dyson’s intention. The terror here is far less paranormal than existential, and clever clues combine with crisp writing to create a full picture that’s more satisfying than it should probably be.
We are thrilled to have Senior British Correspondent Craig Hunter of SCREENRELISH join us to look at some of our favorite British horror movies. From classics of Hammer to some of today’s most disturbing films, we count down the five best.
5. Dracula (Horror of Dracula) (1958)
In 1958, Hammer Films began its long and fabulous love affair with the cloaked one, introducing the irrefutably awesome Christopher Lee as the Count.
Their tale varies a bit from Stoker’s, but the main players are mostly accounted for. Peter Cushing steps in early and often as Van Helsing, bringing his inimitable brand of prissy kick-ass, but its Lee who carries the film.
Six foot 5 and sporting that elegant yet sinister baritone, Lee cuts by far the most intimidating figure of the lot as Dracula. Director Terence Fisher uses that to the film’s advantage by developing a far more vicious, brutal vampire than what we’d seen previously.
Still the film is about seduction, though, which gives Lee’s brute force an unseemly thrill. Unlike so many victims in other vampire tales, it’s not just that Melissa Stribling’s Mina is helpless to stop Dracula’s penetration. She’s in league. She wants it.
Ribald stuff for 1958!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HTyBClMmoyQ
4. Kill List (2011)
Never has the line “Thank you” had a weirder effect than in the genre bending adventure Kill List.
Hitman Jay (a volcanic Neil Maskell) is wary to take another job after the botched Kiev assignment, but his bank account is empty and his wife Shel (an also eruptive MyAnna Buring) has become vocally impatient about carrying the financial load. But this new gig proves to be seriously weird.
Without ever losing that gritty, indie sensibility, Ben Wheatley’s fascinating film begins a slide in Act 2 from crime drama toward macabre thriller. You spend the balance of the film’s brisk 95 minutes actively puzzling out clues, ambiguities and oddities.
As Kill List drifts toward its particular flavor of horror, Wheatley pulls deftly from some of the most memorable films of a similar taste. For those looking for blood and guts and bullets, Kill List will only partially satisfy and may bewilder by the end. But audiences seeking a finely crafted, unusual horror film may find themselves saying thank you.
3. Eden Lake (2009)
The always outstanding Michael Fassbender takes his girl Jenny (Kelly Reilly) to his childhood stomping grounds – a flooded quarry and soon-to-be centerpiece for a grand housing development. He intends to propose, but he’s routinely disrupted, eventually in quite a bloody manner, by a roving band of teenaged thugs.
James Watkins’s screenplay keeps you nervous and guessing with some clever maneuvers and horrific turns.
The acting, particularly from the youngsters, is outstanding. Fassbender’s bravado strikes an honest note, and Reilly’s Jenny is capable, smart and compassionate. More than anything, though, the film owes its unsettling ability to stay with you to an unnerving performance from the up and coming Jack O’Connell.
It’s an upwardly mobile urbanite nightmare, well made and crafted to stay with you.
2. The Descent (2005)
A caving expedition turns ugly for a group of friends, who will quickly realize that being trapped inside the earth is not the worst thing that could happen.
This spelunking adventure comes with a familiar cast of characters: arrogant authority figure, maverick, emotionally scarred question mark, bickering siblings, and a sad-sack tag along. And yet, somehow, the interaction among them feels surprisingly authentic, and not just because each is cast as a woman.
Writer/director Neil Marshall makes excellent use of the story’s structure. Between that and the way film and sound editing are employed, Marshall squeezes every available ounce of anxiety from the audience. Long before the first drop of blood is drawn by the monsters – which are surprisingly well conceived and tremendously creepy – the audience has already been wrung out emotionally.
1. 28 Days Later (2002)
Activists break into a research lab and free the wrong fucking monkeys.
28 days later, bike messenger Jim wakes up naked on an operating table.
You know you’re in trouble from the genius opening sequence: vulnerability, tension, bewilderment, rage and blood – it marks a frantic and terrifying not-really-a-zombie film. (They were not dead, you see. Just super pissed off.)
Danny Boyle is one of cinema’s visionary directors, and he’s made visceral, fascinating, sometimes terrifying films his entire career – Shallow Grave, Trainspotting, Millions, 127 Hours – but 28 Days Later is certainly his one true horror film. And it is inspired.
The vision, the writing, and the performances all help him transcend genre trappings without abandoning the genre. Both Brendan Gleeson and Cillian Murphy are impeccable actors, and Naomie Harris is a truly convincing badass. Their performances, and the cinematic moments of real joy, make their ordeal that much more powerful.