While shifting into the eyes, bodies and mindsets of killers has long been a disruptive tool in the ambitious horror filmmaker’s bag of torture implements, the commitment to this perspective-switch rarely involves a total shift in form. These Halloween gambles usually manifest as single introductory scenes that jolt us out of our seats, brief and murderous teases, or short film gimmicks briefly impressing video store gorehounds sniffing through anthologies for promising new blood. Writer/director Chris Nash cut his teeth on one of these short showcases—ABCs of Death 2—before making his feature debut with In a Violent Nature. But unlike, say, Ben Wheatley’s vampire-POV short from the original ABCs of Death, In a Violent Nature dedicates itself to giving us a slice-of-life look at the slicing of life.
How do monsters like Jason or Michael Myers teleport behind their hapless, horny co-ed victims? Where are they before being awakened by this hormonal hubris? What is the murderer up to in the moments before or directly after the music shrieks and the blood hits the wall? With grim patience, vibrant realism and a genre-savvy sense of humor, Nash marches us one plodding bootstep at a time through the procedure of slashing.
When In a Violent Nature’s boogeyman (Ry Barrett) rises to spill the blood of campers who’ve wandered into his wood, it doesn’t have the look or feel of a horror movie. The forest is serene, shot as if its lumbering antagonist was just another part of nature. With gorgeous bright greens and a commitment to fully viewing its muddy, ragged creature design, In a Violent Nature isn’t hiding anything. Confident, imposing, bright daylight photography is more concerned with establishing an unassuming setting. We trudge past the inherently uncanny human rot lost out in the woods: A gutted shed, a burned tower, a rusted-out car. All the while, the killer lurches along, the camera at his back, in quiet pursuit of those unlucky enough to have disturbed him. And I do mean quiet—there’s only diegetic music in this film, adding tremendously to its methodical atmosphere.
The daylight stuff is so imposing and confident that, when it flows into night, the fading visibility is so organic that it sneaks up on you. That’s not to say Nash and team try to take advantage of us in the dark. Some of the best, inventive and juicy kills come bright and early. The gruesome, delightfully disgusting kills are as nonchalant as they’d be for this creature—even the most elaborate and ridiculous (and they do get elaborate and ridiculous) play like he’s working through a set of crunches.
And boy, do folks get crunched. Not only does In a Violent Nature bring the violence, it does so with the glee of a horror FX geek finally at the helm of his own project. Some of the film’s flirty frenemies—who have a better excuse for being lightly sketched than most of their ilk, as we mostly only encounter them while our guide stalks them from the shadows—are slain in seconds, brutally ended without a second thought. Axes fly heavily through the air and split heads like stumps. Other deaths incorporate black-hearted gags, like a yogini pretzeled beyond all recognition. In a Violent Nature doesn’t skimp on the guts, and it backs its messy machinations up with technical skill. Everything bends, breaks, leaks, and gushes like it should, often as understated (and therefore off-puttingly realistic) as the gore’s source.
Barrett is an excellent weapon. It’s not as easy as it looks to hulk menacingly with every step; it’s certainly not easy to wade out into a lake, sinking beneath its surface like you’re made of lead. Acting away from us, as the camera hangs back in the third-person, he fills the gray, mottled, decomposing makeup and ratty clothes with simple menace. We’re less acquainted with his face than his hands, two sausage-tipped cinderblocks laying waste to those around him. While we find out more about his mythic origin—In a Violent Nature condenses the lore of a slasher franchise into its 90 minutes—he initially appears to be a lizard-brained creature, responding as intensely to stimuli as an unhurried T-Rex.
As that assumption begins to break down, alongside In a Violent Nature’s more strict dedication to its perspective technique, so too does our investment. The crowded, obscured images of soon-to-be-corpses from the edge of the copse are so unique and compelling compared to Nash’s more conventional set-ups. When Nash strays from his tracking shots or lingering still frames (tightly composed and shot with crisp precision by cinematographer Pierce Derks), you’re shaken out of the film’s gripping reality and into something unmistakable as a movie.
Yet, sometimes these stylistic shifts are completely invigorating—justification be damned. When the film shifts to a top-down view of a slow pursuit, we get the best angle of the violence to come. Where most films of its ilk would milk suspense from this moment, cutting back and forth between approaching killer and scrambling victim, In a Violent Nature knows that we know the carnage is coming. In tension’s place comes joyfully macabre inevitability, something emphasized by its bold finale.
But when those pivots don’t play into this physicalized fate, the movie can stall out. In a Violent Nature feels like watching a campfire story unfold before your eyes, so when it hits the brakes for one of the campers to spin a yarn, it’s disappointing—not only because the gimmick is momentarily lifted, allowing us too many tension-free breaths, but because it undercuts the movie’s mystery. Not knowing is much more fun, and I’d happily sacrifice any narrative clarity for commitment.
This goes double for the backstory-extending asides we get when reverting back to the killer’s world. Like with some of the kills, it can feel a little cute and a little fine-tuned, which takes away from the rugged naturalism that makes In a Violent Nature so effective. The movie isn’t scary because of the kills, but because of how easily you’re shifted into the movie’s mindset. What would be a quick-cut ploy in another movie is played out in stark fullness here: When a motion-sensor clicks the lights on in a parking lot, the lone figure cutting a shadow across the asphalt is both beautiful and dreadful in its languid stillness. In a Violent Nature isn’t going to make you jump, but it’s offhandedly gorgeous as it deconstructs its genre.
Humans aren’t built to be the best predators. It’s a miracle we’re at the top of the food chain. But one of the things that got us here is our relentlessness. We’ve got the endurance to wear tasty herbivores down, chasing them to the ends of the earth. Maybe that’s why slashers speak to something primal inside of us. We have an instinctual understanding of how powerless, exhausted and despondent prey can get, crippled by fatigue and fear—this has been the human game plan for a long time. At its best, In a Violent Nature embodies this innate force, this indefatigable hunger, in ways that comment on and participate in its beloved subgenre. When it wavers from its more experimental streak, we’re momentarily freed from its clutches. But the rhythms are right, the kills are absolutely massive and the craftsmanship is the reason Fangoria was established. If you love slashers, and love the language of slashers, it’s inevitable that the charms of In a Violent Nature will reach you. Eventually.
Director: Chris Nash
Writer: Chris Nash
Starring: Ry Barrett, Andrea Pavlovic, Cameron Love, Reece Presley, Liam Leone, Charlotte Creaghan, Lea Rose Sebastianis, Sam Roulston, Alexander Oliver, Lauren Taylor
Release Date: January 22, 2024 (Sundance)
Jacob Oller is Movies Editor at Paste Magazine. You can follow him on Twitter at @jacoboller.
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