Produced by Portishead co-founder Geoff Barrow, this sharp-edged if slight first film turns a sceptical eye on 90s rave culture. Self-serving drug user David (the actor) first robs an unconscious dealer, then in a later recollection tries to break into his own family home. In no time, he's upside down in the wreckage of his car in a forest – and subject to the angry eye of the Woodsman (vocalist Jason Williamson). Declining to free David, with no time for city dwellers, he is a fractured society personified: “You’re one of those noisy cunts from up on the heath.”
Unsteady Opening and Darkly Funny Confrontation
The film begins uncertainly, spending too long on meticulously detailing David’s attempt to free himself from his seatbelt, while clumsily segueing into flashbacks of his everyday life. The central theme – that the ecstasy generation were primarily out for number one – is clearly conveyed. But these brief episodes are too thin to properly prime us for what to expect when the Poacher arrives, fuming after David kills his dog. Still, a darkly funny duel unfolds – David eager to get away; the Woodsman denying his container of scrumpy, intent on soaking him instead in embittered discourse. Williamson, projecting heavy threat in the role, is reminiscent of Michael Smiley.
Visual Flair and Music Video Vibe
Just a single important plot development, but it leads to a hilariously staged chaotic run on the forest trails that dips close to folk horror. Director John Minton finally gets to go all in with his ostentatious visuals: where he was focused intently doing artful shots of insects in the light in the opening part, he now lets rip with the full lysergic grand display, accompanied by a frenzied keyboard rendition of Ravel’s Boléro. The movie resembles an elongated music video than a fully fledged drama, but there’s enough strident imagery to suggest that Minton could follow Jonathan Glazer, Garth Jennings et al into making the leap from the UK video industry.
Game releases in UK and Irish theaters from 17 November.
