Filmmaker Mark Jenkin takes us on a trip through the cerebral cortex in the art film-psychological horror hybrid, Enys Men. Acting as the film’s director, writer, cinematographer, editor, and composer, Jenkin puts every fiber of his being into this visionary feat. The result is a genuinely singular point of view – albeit abstract – that touches on the idea of life and death and its meaning in the metaphysical and spiritual realm.
To put it simply, Enys Men tells the story of a wildlife volunteer (Mary Woodvine) who is in the middle of a residency on a remote island in Cornwall, UK. Her responsibilities center around a small patch of flowers, observing their growth and noting any inconsistencies in their development. Alone with her thoughts, day in and day out, she begins to crack at the seams, losing her grip on reality and fading into delusion.
Much like how Robert Eggers’ film The Lighthouse is a slow spiral into madness, our protagonist encounters a similar fate. Being the only living person on the secluded British island (or is she?), the volunteer begins to lose herself among the earthly offerings and folkloric superstitions. Mark Jenkin’s aesthetic throughout Enys Men is swoon-worthy, from the highly saturated colors to the score that weaves together field recordings with long drawn-out synths. Jenkin uses the same type of equipment and film stock as many low-budget horror films of the 70s, which is how he achieves this retro look.
Some people will get a thrill from the labyrinth that unfolds within the 90-minute runtime, giddy to get lost in the uncanniness of the script and the purposefully vague and nonsensical montages the film so devilishly derails into. Others may try to assign meaning to the madness, to which I say, good luck! I fell right in between these two sentiments. I found myself transfixed by the film’s visual and sonic grip, yet I stumbled when I tried to understand the “why” of the plot.
Enys Men is a film that simultaneously feels both dated and timeless. It could have existed 50 years ago and its ingenuity would not have been lost to time. For those interested in checking out this transfixing work, be prepared for long stretches of nothingness. It may be a beautiful trip. but you’ve been warned that this isn’t your stereotypical traditional horror film.
91 minutes. Opening this Friday in select theaters.
