I’d rather encounter a bear in the woods than any of the characters from In The Earth
If you’ve ever thought the woods were creepy, In the Earth will confirm your fears—and then some. This film plunges you into a world where nature’s mysteries are not just spooky but downright nightmarish.
Set in an unusually fertile and dense woodland, In the Earth follows a scientist, Dr. Martin Lowery (Joel Fry), and a park scout, Alma (Ellora Torchia), on a routine mission during an unspecified pandemic that swiftly spirals into a nightmarish journey. Beset by odd ailments and mysterious nighttime attacks, things take a turn for the strange and eldritch as the pair get closer to their objective: the field laboratory of a missing scientist who hasn’t been heard from in months.
The film revels in creating a disturbing, immersively kaleidoscopic experience. The cinematography captures the forest’s menacing beauty, while Clint Mansell’s haunting score amplifies the tension and uncertainty. There’s a bleak, exhausted kind of paranoia permeating the film, a societal hangover from the recent real-world pandemic and the lingering fear that it will happen again. Speaking of lingering fear, this is one movie that unequivocally justifies the choice to prefer encountering a bear in the woods as it presents the epitome of the dangers of a strange man in the forest in the form of Zach (a chillingly ambiguous Reece Shearsmith). Joel Fry and Ellora Torchia deliver strong performances, grounding the film in authenticity even as it veers unpredictably into surreal and psychedelic territory. It’s an intoxicating cocktail of folk horror, lingering viral anxieties, and ecological alarm that overwhelms the senses and attempts to connect with some primal sense of fear.
With In the Earth, Wheatley, who honed his directorial craft in part through Doctor Who (the episodes “Deep Breath” and “Into the Dalek”), harks back to the ecological cautionary tales from the Jon Pertwee era of Doctor Who, channelling many of the same themes and, on occasion, not dissimilar special effects techniques. Beyond the thematic connection, there’s a strong whiff of the Whovian about the whole film. In the Earth feels like a Doctor Who story stripped of its itinerant Time Lord and iconic blue box, instead focusing on what might happen to hapless humans left to their own devices against dark and ancient powers in the deep, dark wood.
By its nature, In the Earth defies easy interpretation and races past ambiguity into downright gnomic crypticism. The plot can easily bewilder, leading careless viewers astray until they find themselves completely turned around in an unfamiliar narrative forest with no idea of which way to travel and unable to see the narrative wood for the thematic trees. Wheatley relishes the audience’s discomfort; it feeds the primordial shadows at the heart of the film. Everything, including the frequent use of strobe lights and disorienting sound effects, is designed to heighten that unease.
Compared to other classics in the folk horror genre, In the Earth stands out for its contemporary twist on primeval forces. It surrenders itself and the audience to an explicitly supernatural elementalism, unlike, say, The Wicker Man, which assays a more prosaic, human-fuelled folk horror. While it carves its own unique niche with a blend of eco-horror and psychological terror, its abstract storytelling might not sit well with those who prefer a more straightforward narrative.
In the Earth is a challenging film, a dystopically bleak, very British avant-garde horror. Its strengths lie in its atmospheric tension and unique blending of contemporary fears with ancestral dread. If nothing else, it serves as a salient reminder that if you go down to the woods today, you’re in for a big surprise.
