Daniel Kokotajlo’s “Starve Acre” emerges as a thought-provoking exploration within the contemporary folk horror genre. Drawing comparisons to iconic classics like Jerzy Skolimowski’s “The Shout,” Nic Roeg’s “Don’t Look Now,” and Robin Hardy’s “The Wicker Man,” this film showcases a compelling narrative set against the atmospheric backdrop of the Yorkshire countryside. Adapting Andrew Michael Hurley’s novel, Kokotajlo brings forth a visual and auditory experience that captivates the audience, even as it tiptoes on the well-trodden paths of prior works.
Kokotajlo’s directorial craftsmanship shines through striking cinematography, courtesy of Adam Scarth, which envelops viewers in an evocative tableau that evokes both beauty and haunting dread. The inventive sound design further enhances the immersive quality, allowing the natural ambiance of the woods and the eerie silence of the home to penetrate the story deeply, emphasizing themes central to human experience: grief, memory, and isolation.
At the heart of “Starve Acre” lies the tragic tale of archaeologist Richard, portrayed with depth by Matt Smith, who grapples with the fallout of his father’s death. Relocating to his ancestral home with his wife, Juliette (Morfydd Clark), and their young son, Owen (Arthur Shaw), Richard provides a nuanced lens through which the narrative unfolds. The family moves into a place steeped in folklore, where the community’s ominous tales about wood sprites and local legends unveil their own layers of tension.
As Owen’s violent behavior begins to escalate, Richard and Juliette’s individual coping mechanisms expose the fractures in their relationship. Richard obsesses over his archaeological dig—the remnants of a hare skeleton and the roots of an oak tree linked to local dark histories—as Juliette loses herself in personal connections and rituals shrouded in mystery. The emotional dislocation felt by each character is expertly portrayed by Smith and Clark, whose performances evoke a rawness that resonates deeply with viewers.
Despite the film’s impressive surface, it also grapples with an overwhelming sense of familiarity that dampens its emotional resonance. Drawing heavily on conventions familiar to the horror genre may alienate some viewers, as it sometimes overshadows the fresh explorations it attempts. The film craftily incorporates elements reminiscent of classics, including an intriguing twist that nods to Stephen King’s “Pet Sematary,” yet falls short in justifying its innovations within a saturated narrative space.
Ultimately, while “Starve Acre” thrives on rich visual and auditory craftsmanship, the emotional stakes fail to capture a compelling rhythm. The film serves as an engaging piece for genre enthusiasts who revel in the homage to folk traditions but may leave others yearning for a deeper exploration of grief and its manifestations. As Kokotajlo delves into the psychological unknowns, “Starve Acre” stands as a testament to the duality of beauty and terror, showcasing what it means to confront loss within the shadows of heritage and memory.