Enys Men
Enys Men (pronounced “Ennis Mane”) is another classic example of an experimental movie whose orbit has gotten unusually close to the planet of the general moviegoing populace, thanks to North American distribution by the critically-beloved indie hit-makers NEON and glowing reviews from popular and respected critics like Mark Kermode. At first glance, the marketing and general vibe of Enys Men might make it appear that it fits squarely in the mold of popular "elevated horror" movies like Midsommar or The Witch, and it's bound to attract viewers who may not have seen many movies like this one. If you hear something like "this is the worst movie I have ever seen," you can almost understand where it's coming from. But more exciting is the hope that Enys Men can be a gateway drug for those who are intrigued by its entrancing non-story.
To call it "horror" or even "folk horror" isn't even a good place to start. It has its creepy moments but it's not scary and the characters aren't really in danger. There are images of old folksy women and ghostly children but this isn't at all The Wicker Man. It's actually fairly difficult to say what Enys Men is about at all. It requires an open mind and a willingness to get swept up in a feeling more than an actual story.
What we do know is that the movie is set in 1973 on an uninhabited island off the Cornish coast, where an unnamed wildlife volunteer (Mary Woodvine) goes through a strange and monotonous daily routine. Walking along the craggy cliffs, she checks the soil temperature around a tiny patch of white flowers, stops by an abandoned mineshaft to drop a stone and wait for it to hit the bottom, and then returns home to record her findings (which we see as many pages of the same note over and over -- "no progress"). For close to 45 minutes, that's all that really happens. She cranks up her small generator, drinks tea and reads the same book, A Blueprint for Survival.
There is ever-so-slightly growing tension even amongst such mundane proceedings. We see images of a quiet young girl that appears to be living with her. There is a radio that provides the only source of communication to the mainland, and it frequently seems to be channeling events from the past. The camera increasingly focuses ominously on a giant standing stone that looms right outside the volunteer's house. There are voices, children laughing, a song, a man coughing, more and more brief images of what may be ghosts from the island's past.
There may be a larger story here, but it's up to you to provide it -- the movie isn't going to give you any answers. I chose to interpret it as the woman seeing the past, present and future of the island, channeling the stories of the people who have been there like she is some kind of radio herself, receiving transmissions (maybe from the standing stone). I can understand many people getting frustrated with the lack of clear answers; I was in that camp initially myself. At some point, I allowed myself to start following the narrative I had created for it, and it was fairly satisfying. I can imagine it might solidify even more on a rewatch, or I could go in another direction completely.
It's an interesting approach from director Mark Jenkin, creator of the equally fascinating/perplexing Bait (2019). Much of the joy in Enys Men comes from the exquisite 16 mm compositions and lovely usages of color, aided tremendously by the naturally beautiful Cornish scenery. There was clearly great care put into the staging of each frame, adding a strange sense of weight to scenes where the meaning is ultimately unclear.
It's a fascinating piece of work that can leave the viewer fluctuating between boredom and exhilaration, and likely provides more rewards the more the viewer is willing to project onto it. Here's hoping more large distributors take a chance on movies like this one.
