Folk Horror can elicit terrible tremors of pure fear, unlike most other genres. Luke Jaden’s Animals of the Land, playing this year’s Fantaspoa, claws at the eyeballs. The writer/director needles to the very root of humanity, where a sick hunger for power lies in all its perverted glory. There’s something to be said about that brutal might that’s ignited countless wars throughout history, grabs for the patriarchal throne, and the destructive nature of oppressive systems. Within his story, Jaden picks apart these themes and presents them through a crafty, horrific lens that’ll leave your retinas completely scarred.
Willow (Andrea Tivadar) and Clay (Jord Knotter) entrust their souls to Mother Nature—”in Her name” is a common refrain. They’ve taught their two sons, Rye (Abel Lysenko) and River (Roan Kyne), the ways of the wilderness and its ritualistic demands of order. For everything, there’s always a return, even in death. Their lives are of their own making, far removed from other communities and beliefs, and left to bask in Mother Nature’s warmth and kindness. Early on in the film, we see them gathered around various totems, performing breathing and vocal chants as a way of honoring the Earth. In doing so, they communicate with Mother Nature and resoundingly prove their unwavering commitment to Her.
However, when a manic, flesh-hungry boar shows up on their quaint little farm, it spells disaster for not only the family’s way of life but also their spirituality. Insidious and slithering evil descends upon them. Their goats and other animals turn up dead. It can only be a test, perhaps an imbalance with Mother Nature’s trusty scales. And the wickedness doesn’t stop there. It possesses the family’s bodies, recalibrates them, and leads them to do godawful things, things you may never unsee.
Luke Jaden is an obvious fastidious student of folk horror. From Häxan to Eyes of Fire and The Witch, the film carries all of these stories within itself, erected around Jaden’s well-scrawled lore and his utter sorcery. Animals of the Land continues the long tradition of witches, macabre spirituality, and the manifestation of evil. As the family descends into madness, Knotter gives a particularly blinding performance of deteriorating humanity and the way power twists and burns civilization to the ground.
The film feels like an unearthed relic. It embodies all the finest elements of folk horror—the loyalty, the faith, the desperation, the thirst for blood, and the sacrificial absolution in the name of an omnipresent entity. Animals of the Land doesn’t just pour gasoline over the genre; it even strikes the match. The audience is just left to step into the flames, and perhaps, society would be better for it.
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