It’s open enough to be perceived as a character study, a horror story, or something different altogether. But what is indisputable is the movie’s excellent use of wide shots and close-ups, the gorgeous production design and cinematography, and Woodvine’s quiet but compelling performance.
I was riveted by every moment of this haunting weird film. Enys Men made me legitimately uneasy.
At times, Jenkin’s bold, experimental style can perplex; but his vision is so unwavering and beholden to local history that his message is clear: On Enys Men, the earth remembers what the sea has taken.
What Enys Men “means” will differ for each viewer. For me, it is (like Bait) a richly authentic portrait of Cornwall, far removed from any tourist-friendly vision. . . I’ve seen the film three times so far, and I can’t wait to dive into it and be swept away again. Bravo!
Whereas Bait was a lament for a way of life swallowed up by mindless urbanite tourism, Enys Men is a hymn to sublime, endless time and the hauntedness of existence.
The film arguably shares DNA with the psycho-geographical works of Pat Collins and Alan Gilsenan.
Shot by Jenkin on 16mm color negative with a 1970s clockwork Bolex and scored with post-synch sound, the film looks and sounds as a relic unearthed from one of the island’s caves. A chest stashed with stories in turns seductive and chilling, woven into a tale that will keep on unfurling, in an endless and confounding maze.
It is not exactly a horror film, despite some spasms of disquiet, but an uncanny evocation of how, when left utterly on our own, we spiral inwards into our memories, dreams and fears.
It wouldn’t be quite right to describe Mark Jenkin’s Enys Men as a horror film. Rather, it’s the kind of thing the victims in a horror film might watch, just after pulling it from the cellar of a derelict harbour cottage, and shortly before succumbing to some blood-curdling maritime curse.
The witchy atmosphere Jenkin conjures is spine-tinglingly devilish, the poetic manifestation of the subject’s deep grief, ever-ambiguous and frosty, taking on the aching melancholy of loss.
This was the biggest snooze fest I've ever had the misfortune of watching. What pretentious, cerebral, avant garde crap. No scares, no spooks, just. . . . nothing. Good luck making heads or tails out of this ridiculousness.
I had heard about this movie but didn't know what to expect. I hadn't even seen a trailer of it, so I watched it without really knowing anything. I was in for an awkward surprise. The most current example I can compare it to would be Skinamarink, which had horror roots, while Enys Men is more of an exploration of folklore that has a certain creepy aura to it but is mostly an exercise in confusion and ultimately boredom. I'd recommend it based on whether you like experimental films, otherwise look for something else.
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