In a Violent Nature

Overview

Again and again, fans of slasher films have seen the one about the unhinged murderer butchering teen victims. They've seen more than one, in fact. It's a horror convention: take a bunch of young adults, then dispense with them person by person as a killer works through childhood trauma. Penning and helming his first feature — his short Z Is for Zygote was included in The ABCs of Death 2, and he did special effects work on Psycho Goreman, too — writer/director Chris Nash knows the basics of his chosen genre as much as any other diehard viewer. He's just as aware of the great, and greatly influential, flicks gone by such as Halloween and Friday the 13th. He's well-versed in their tropes in storytelling and in form alike. Making his full-length debut with a picture called In a Violent Nature, he's also clued up on what happens when someone sinister gets a-stalking in scenic surroundings.

Plot-wise, Nash isn't trying to break the mould with his account of Johnny (Ry Barrett, Massacre at Femur Creek) and the folks who are unlucky enough to fall across his path. But the filmmaker asks a question: what if a rampaging slaughterer's terrors came not with a score heralding their every menacing move (even when those tunes can become iconic, as John Carpenter's Halloween music has), but with the ordinary silence of everyday life in nature punctuated only by noises just as commonplace, and then by the sounds of a killer at their insidious worst? In its imagery, In a Violent Nature adds another query: what if the audience wasn't biding its time with those likely to perish, tension dripping from not knowing when and where the murderer would strike, but was stuck at the side of the force causing such gruesome mayhem as the inevitable approaches? There's seldom any escape from a slasher; however, Nash finds a new way to take that idea literally.

Let's call it the bang-and-whimper method of tackling the genre, because lives cease here with each given as much attention. Johnny still metes out big kills that create a din and sear themselves into memory. One inventively grisly death in particular can never be erased from brains, and ensures that everyone watching is incapable of contemplating its setting or the pastime involved in the same way ever again. Another sequence suggests that it's going a similar way, but becomes unforgettable for the fact that it holds back on grim expectations. And, of course, mewls of pain are hardly new to horror. Here, though, Nash's commitment to the film's ambience gives both its bangs and its whimpers extra impact. This is the way that the world ends for Johnny's prey: not with just a bang or solely a whimper, but with the haunting, echoing combination of the two that compels In a Violent Nature's viewers to reckon with them in the moment.

Nash's understanding of horror at its most stock-standard commences with In a Violent Nature's opening, where wandering campers chat while stumbling across a grave beneath an old fire tower. A gold locket hangs in plain sight, which leads Troy (Liam Leone, Eli Roth Presents: A Ghost Ruined My Life) to pocketing the jewellery, opting for the kind of stupid decision that people in a slasher flick love. Yes, it'll come back to taunt him. So awakens Johnny from the earth. So stirs his ire as well. But how the audience might anticipate that this plays out from the above description isn't ever how the feature stages it. The focus is rarely on those potentially awaiting a date with the heavens, to the point that their faces aren't the picture's most-common sight. Neither is Johnny's, whether or not it's under a smoke helmet. Nature isn't merely a location, but the expanse that fills cinematographer Pierce Derks' (Frankie Freako) frames — sometimes in close shots, sometimes sprawling.

As Johnny sets off, there's not a shred of doubt lingering that he'll indulge his violent urges — the reasons for which get a backstory layered in, details that are knowingly by the book — via a relentless frenzy. Nash and Derks aren't in a hurry, largely lurking behind their killer with patience as he turns the wilderness into his hunting ground. He walks. He slays. Sometimes the results are splattered across the screen with slaughterhouse-esque gore and guts. Sometimes a savvy cut by editor Alex Jacobs (V/H/S/85) conveys what has happened instead of getting blatant and bloody. The camera remains static more than it roves, and peers on from long-held wide shots more than it zooms forward. Johnny's temperament is expressed by the pace of his stride, which becomes In a Violent Nature's metronome of unease.

Masked characters, not the actors who play them, tend to carve their place in common pop-culture knowledge out of horror movies. Michael Myers is the household name, for instance, as much as Nick Castle (Halloween Ends) should be. Barrett deserves the same recognition, making Johnny a petrifying presence even when so frequently spied from a few footsteps back. That said, he isn't carrying the film alone on-screen. The travellers that meet the figure's hooks and other weaponry start out disposable, but leave an impression the longer that they survive, Andrea Pavlovic (Our Mother's Secret Affair) especially. That'll ring familiar, too; to take the risks that Nash does, and to test if a slasher flick can work the way he wants it to — and it can — he leans into the template everywhere else possible.

It was a Sundance sensation to kick off 2024, proved a box-office hit in America for independent studio IFC Films and now has a sequel in the works, but a movie like this, with the output of director Terrence Malick (A Hidden Life) as much of a touchstone as the Friday the 13th and The Texas Chain Saw Massacre franchises, is a gamble. Both of the latter two horror sagas earn clear nods, yet there's no mistaking In a Violent Nature's lyrical skew thanks to its ever-present greenery and naturalistic soundtrack. Combine the two and scares still spring, laced with dread that gushes like a limb lopped off by a log splitter. While it's frightening to ponder that ghastly turns of fate can and do occur randomly, as regular slashers capitalise upon, it's bone-chilling to confront that truth when it's presented as an inherent, innate, matter-of-fact certainty of existence. In a violent nature indeed.