Review: ‘Alone’ is a lean and mean survivalist thriller

There are few locations as creepy as the woods. Every pop of broken tree branches, muted thuds of boots on autumn leaves, and gentle creaks of the canopies elicit spine-tingling fear. As boundless as woodlands can be, it’s just as claustrophobic and isolating. A film like John Hyams’ Alone totally immerses the viewer into the sounds, textures, and in-born terror such a setting promises. Wrapped around a survivalist thriller, nature plays as a vital role as the characters themselves, further heighting the emotional and physical stakes to an uncontrollable boiling point.

Alone follows Jessica Swanson (Jules Willcox, Bloodline), a woman tortured by the death of her husband. In the opening squence, she packs away her bustling city life into her car and U-Haul trailer and zig-zags along the highway to find a fresh start. She’s needed a clean break for awhile now; it’s been six months since the tragedy, and while she still battles an uneven mental state, a new beginning may just do the trick. Against her parents better judgement, and what appears to be a very contentious relationship, Jessica decides to move several hundred miles across the country. Or so she tries.

The film, cut into various chapters like “The Road,” “The River,” and “The Rain,” leans very barebones, choosing to keep things streamlined and unfussy. It is fraught with plenty of nail-biting tension, best utilized in the silence or more intimate moments. As anyone who has ever traveled alone, it’s the unexpected paranoia that creeps up on you when you least expect it, like a snake slithering amidst the tale grass. You know it’s out there, awaiting its moment to bite, yet there’s no preparing for it. The anticipation of danger can kill you most of all. And Jessica finds herself smack dab in the eye of a storm she doesn’t even fully realize has been brewing until it’s way too late.

Her trip goes terribly south when she crosses paths with a mysterious, unnamed man (Marc Menchaca, The Outsider, Ozark), whose initially meek persona is laced with classic creep. His loathing of women runs deep and powers him forward, toying with his prey like a cat and mouse. The fim’s building block are put into place through a series of slow-burning stalking scenes, as Jessica continues barreling ahead through the night to her destination, the wood-lined highway closing in on her. Such desolation chills, and Willcox’s commitment to nuance drives the narrative forward and careening off the road (quite literally). Once her car crashes into the ditch, The Man finally pounces, kidnapping her and hiding her away in his cabin basement.

Menchaca’s peformance, often severely switching from deceptively kind to frantic and psychotic, terrifies, a balancing act against Willcox’s gutting, fragile, and moving exhibition. Jessica Swanson is a very flawed protagonist, who often makes confusing and frustrating decisions, but it’s her will to survive that pays off with one helluva finale. Along the way, she confronts her husband’s death, learns from the pain, and chooses to finally live.

Alone thrives in its softer moments, particularly during the torrential nighttime downpour in the woods. Thick rain falls down like boulders, lightning and thunder crashing against the trees, and Hyams’ creative choice to soundtrack this grueling moment with only the elements is frightening. Jessica is crouched in a couple feet of water, sinking her mouth fall below the surface, and The Man towers several yards away. “You delicious bitch,” he calls her, also spewing a venomous diatribe about cowardice. Jessica doesn’t flinch or take the bait. She waits. She plots. Determination glistens in her eyes. In that moment, she knows what she has to do. She must kill this man ⏤ or die trying.

Alone is far from groundbreaking; in fact, it feels quite similiar to Hunted, which debuted at Fantasia Fest this year. It isn’t going to offer up an elightened view on the survivalist/thriller convention or guide you into the dark mental recesses of a murderer. It is, however, a slender, sinewy story that keeps the viewer entranced… hook, line, and sinker.

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