The work of Portishead co-founder Geoff Barrow, this scabrous if slight debut feature turns a sceptical eye on 90s rave culture. Self-serving drug user David (Marc Bessant) first robs an unconscious dealer, then in a later recollection tries to burgle his own parents. In no time, he's overturned in the remains of his car in a forest – and subject to the wrathful eye of the Woodsman (Sleaford Mods frontman Jason Williamson). Refusing to extricate David, with impatience toward townies, he is a fractured society embodied: “You’re one of those loud individuals from up on the heath.”
Unsteady Opening and Darkly Funny Duel
The film begins uncertainly, lingering excessively on meticulously detailing David’s attempt to extricate himself from his safety harness, while awkwardly transitioning into flashbacks of his everyday life. The bigger point – that the rave-era youth were primarily out for themselves – is firmly made. But these brief episodes are insufficiently developed to adequately prepare us for what to expect when the Poacher arrives, fuming after David kills his dog. Still, a darkly funny duel takes hold – David desperate to escape; the Poacher denying his container of cider, determined to soaking him instead in embittered discourse. Williamson, exuding heavy threat in the role, is reminiscent of Michael Smiley.
Stylish Imagery and Promo-Inspired Vibe
There is only one key story turn, but it leads to a hilariously staged rampage on the woodland paths that veers toward folk horror. Filmmaker John Minton at last unleashes with his showy imagery: where he was hunkered down doing artful shots of insects in the light in the opening part, he now goes all out with the full psychedelic grand display, soundtracked to a wild organ version of Ravel’s Boléro. The movie resembles an extended promo than a fully fledged drama, but there’s enough bold visuals to suggest that Minton could follow Jonathan Glazer, Garth Jennings et al into making the leap from the UK video industry.
Game is in UK and Irish theaters from 17 November.
