Sundance 2021 Film Review: In the Earth
Ben Wheatley returns to form with the verdantly brutal In the Earth
After a much-maligned turn remaking Alfred Hitchcock’s Rebecca for Netflix, filmmaker Ben Wheatley returns to form with the brutal and psychedelic In the Earth. Lush and violent with tinges of Annihilation and Wicker Man, Wheatley’s latest is a harrowing meditation on man and nature. Contributor Diego Andaluz reviews the latest from Sundance 2021. Minor spoilers ahead…
In this newly turbulent era of the coronavirus pandemic, studios and independent filmmakers alike have been left exposed. With blockbuster projects moving to streaming and production budgets rising exponentially, the industry has turned to a new genre: pandemic adjacent fiction. Since the recent inception of this filmmaking subcategory, there have been offerings ranging from uninspired (Lockdown), to isolated (Malcolm & Marie), to the downright exploitative (Songbird). With this wave of films failing to extend beyond its pandemic trappings, it seems as if this era of quarantine filmmaking has been crippled by its lack of freedom rather than boosted by the sparks of creativity. However, premiering at the 2021 Sundance Film Festival, Ben Wheatley’s latest horror-thriller, In the Earth, has managed to transcend the current societal situation to become the first great film of the pandemic era - a testament to the collective creative spirit.
As a deadly virus ravages the world, agriculturalist Martin Lowery (Joel Fry) loses touch with his research colleague Dr. Wendel (Hayley Squires) and embarks upon a mission to find her. Joined by Alma (Ellora Torchia), an experienced park scout with a deep connection to the wilderness, he ventures into the forest depths without any alternative method of communication. And as expected in a film of this genre, their mission quickly takes a turn for the worse: After a night of sleeping in the great outdoors, the two suffer an anonymous attack that leaves them bruised, battered, and with nothing but the clothes on their back. Demotivated and disillusioned, they coincidentally run into Wendel’s long-lost partner Zach (Reece Shearsmith), who offers to help them recover from their injuries. But upon accepting his help, Martin and Alma find themselves in an increasingly dark and unstable situation, threatening their efforts of making it out of the woods alive.
“In the Earth…[transcends] the current societal situation to become the first great film of the pandemic era that serves as a testament to the collective creative spirit.”
Conceived in a matter of weeks in a bout of isolated inspiration, Wheatley’s screenplay manages to be one of the rare pandemic-adjacent scripts that employs its timely themes through subtle world-building rather than heavy-handed pandemic parallels, successfully sidestepping the narrative exploitation that has dragged down its contemporaries. However, its lopsided pacing does end up contributing to many of its perceived flaws. Suffering from a largely scattered first act that takes its time, a good portion of In the Earth simmers in a slow boil, but once the film crosses its inciting incident, it follows a brisk upward trajectory of subverted expectations and non-stop terror. The central characters, too, become multifaceted reflections of four clashing relationships with nature, only heightened by the talent on display from each performer. The way it explores the aforementioned themes of humanity's relationship with its surrounding environment is a commendable one - with certain characters viewing nature through a religious lens, and others through a more analytical mindset. But, despite its compelling and well-rounded thematic exploration, it still holds many aspects that could be deemed as messy and lacking focus.
Returning back to his low-budget roots after a string of duds, In The Earth features Ben Wheatley at his most experimental, for better or worse. Armed with the chaotic qualities of a drug-fueled, early-aughts music video, Wheatley’s different frame rates, inconsistent camera settings, and tendency to comically over-edit creates a disorienting experience for all who see it. This stylistic flair clashes with the mellower and more narratively coherent first half, resulting in a final hour that plays more like an amateur filmmaker throwing everything they’ve got at the screen rather than a respected and experienced professional doing his best with limited tools. But perhaps that’s by design: By the time the film concludes, one might come to realize that these carefully calculated traits are exactly what end up elevating the film above its pandemic film peers.
“Wheatley’s screenplay manages to be one of the rare pandemic-adjacent scripts that employs its timely themes through subtle world-building…”
As the film begins to veer into its chaotic and ambiguous second-half, Wheatley’s unhinged direction begins to feel more in line with the tone of the film - an admirable transition from seemingly amateurish distraction to a crucial tool that aids in the portrayal of a fractured state of mind. If a more subtle form of direction were used, the film wouldn’t be able to sustain its crackling kineticism. Combined with Nick Gillespie’s ingenious use of strobe-like lighting to accentuate the terrain and Clint Mansell’s eerily atonal score, Wheatley’s direction results in a hypnotic atmosphere that builds into a fiery and explosive fury. With an ending that presents a stunning audiovisual display of artistic madness, In the Earth delivers a reality-shaking experience reminiscent of the conclusions to 2001: A Space Odyssey and Annihilation. Utilizing every technical aspect at his fingertips and turning it up to eleven, Wheatley orchestrates an experimental finale that displays the film’s creative purpose at full force, resulting in one of the purest representations of the world’s current state of chaos.
Overall, In The Earth is an ambitiously demented and transcendent experience that is bolstered by a stellar screenplay and exquisitely lit exteriors. Featuring Ben Wheatley at his most experimental, it works as an insanely atmospheric head trip, resulting in the first truly great film of the pandemic era.
