There’s something exceptionally sinister about a folk horror film. Its gorier counterparts build their foundation on splatter and tension that gives way to frenetic action, and newer psychological thrillers lean into sleek visuals and swelling scores to evoke dread. While they both please many horror-loving palates, folk horror is the grimier and gnarled cousin. It dares to dive into humanity’s collective fears of isolation and the darkness that exists naturally—both what’s outdoors and within our souls.
It rests in enduring legends, religious tenets, and oral traditions, toying with one’s emotions and beliefs. Folk horror is an imperfect, grainy, and unsettling mess with violence that feels all too plausible. Writer and director Daniel Kokotajlo’s Starve Acre, anchored by Matt Smith and Morfydd Clark’s stellar performances, mostly falls into the “contemporary” folk horror subgenre. It is a 1970s-era British tale that’s quiet, disturbing, and a decidedly morbid exploration of grief, mystery, and blurred reality.
Archaeologist and professor Richard (Smith) and his wife Juliette (Clark) relocate to the dreary countryside to give their son Owen (Arthur Shaw) a carefree place to grow. The family move into Richard’s childhood home, sinisterly named Starve Acre, and adjust to their new beginnings. A strange neighbor soon eases his way into their lives with local folklore as Richard digs into his father’s belongings. Stories align in regards to a demonic force named Jack Grey (whose lore gets occasionally bogged down), an ancient oak tree, and occultism as Owen begins to demonstrate uncharacteristic behavior.
A tragic moment splinters the family as Juliette and Richard are swallowed into the crushing, dark depths of grief. Predictably, that’s not the only darkness that consumes their thoughts and actions. Starve Acre allows us to walk the pathway of personal loss, longing, and the desperate grasps at coping and understanding alongside Richard and Juliette in quiet moments of observation.
We also bear witness to their ongoing “waking nightmare” as reality slips from their grips. Who are they? Better yet, what are they by the end of this film? It’s open to the viewer’s interpretation, as is the film’s usage of the hare. A folklore legend, the hare has quite a few meanings, depending on who you ask. European legends say it is a place to store an evil man’s soul to force them into a more docile nature. This certainly fits the bill with all the Jack Grey chatter. But there’s also room for a reincarnation story, a restoration of what’s lost that comes with a hefty soul(s) price. This exploration of the relationship between spirit and sorrow is when the film is at its best. While the cast is few, their performances deftly convey the longing, strangeness, and despair needed to drive emotional elements home.
Starve Acre boasts a similar aesthetic appeal to The Wicker Man and the more recent She Will, with an eerie score by Matthew Herbert to match. However, those looking for particularly explosive and/or gratuitously violent moments to slice through the evenly-keeled drama and occasional scares simply won’t get them. And that’s not a bad thing. Starve Acre is an introspective vibe, a long walk into the forest’s brush versus a frantic run.
There are some elements, like the uncovering of vital information, that take far too long to unveil themselves in the most anticlimactic ways possible. A few too many ideas circulate and never quite get the exploration they deserve. And, a few jarringly silly happenings stir you out of the film’s trance. It does not happen enough to completely throw the narrative off its axis, but it is always unwelcome.
Starve Acre isn’t as entertaining as The Blood on Satan’s Claw. It is also not an absolute stunner like Kototajlo’s Apostasy, a gut-punching examination of a Jehovah’s Witness family. But it is still a solid offering that will send an eerie chill (or three) down your spine.
Starve Acre hits theaters on July 26.