It is
clearly the message of the new horror film In the Earth that nature is
alive, very powerful, and in some sense divine and that man is just a plaything
in its grasp. Here are some quotes from
a review by Nick Schager (via The Drudge Report)
in that vein:
Perched on the razor-thin boundary between
lucidity and madness, it gnaws at the nerves and bludgeons the senses until
submission—to humanity’s helplessness in the face of the ancient world’s
elemental power—is the only recourse.
. .
.
Before embarking on their two-day hike to
Olivia, Martin spies a painting (and related kids’ drawings) of a fabled pagan
spirit of the woods known as Parnag Fegg that captured locals’ imaginations in
the 1970s after some children went missing in the area. It’s no great leap to
assume that this myth is somehow related to the film’s opening sight of a
towering stone slab with a hole in it (think a more earthen variation of 2001’s
alien monolith).
The monolith
(and the circle within it) is important, too, because, as in 2001, it is symbol of perfection, a means by which mankind
ascends to higher states of being. But
because of man’s ‘sins’ against nature, in this film it seems to portend his
destruction.
Back to the
quotes:
Referring to Parnag Fegg, Alma states, “I
think the forest is like something that you can sense, so it makes sense that
they should give that fear a face.” Later, she tells Martin she believes people
will soon forget about their pandemic ordeal and go back to their prior ways,
implying that mankind is incapable of truly respecting, or coming to grips
with, nature’s awesome and terrifying might. In this hostile environment,
amateur shutterbug Zach opines that “photography is like magic, really. But
then, so is all technology when you don’t know how it works.” The supernatural
quality of the unknown is everywhere in In the Earth, and Wheatley
uses canted compositions in which his characters are dwarfed by their lush,
misty surroundings to conjure an atmosphere of the mysterious, primal world
devouring these interlopers, consuming and reintegrating them back into its
fertile soil.
The director’s dreamy aesthetics are
amplified by a soundscape of menacing electronic noises, heavy breathing, and
unnatural bird calls, creating the impression that this milieu is not simply
alive but sentient. The interconnectedness of everything soon becomes a pressing
concern for Martin and Alma, including with regards to Zach—whom they must
escape, because he’s up to some wild stuff—and Olivia, who’s trying to commune
with the primeval stone slab that she believes is the embodiment of Parnag
Fegg, and the hub of the country’s ecological bio-network. To do this, she
employs methods that are at once technological and ritualistic—a marriage of
the rational and irrational that soon defines In the Earth, .
. . .
. .
. What is clear, however, is that man holds little sway over nature (and its
old gods), and any attempt by the former to comprehend the latter is an
endeavor destined to confound, if not drive one out of their ever-loving mind.
. .
. Tapping into our ongoing COVID anxieties of corruption and ruin, it’s a
sinister vision of nature protecting itself through biologically and
psychologically viral defense mechanisms—and of the futility of trying to
change, fight, reason with or even fathom such unstoppable forces.
As
Christianity recedes in the West, it is likely that this notion of a world with
a soul and a consciousness and ready to visit wrath upon man for his trespasses
against her will become stronger, especially now that so many scientists
(‘Follow the science!’) are embracing it:
When scientific pantheists say WE
REVERE THE UNIVERSE we are not talking about a supernatural being. We
are talking about the way our senses and our emotions force us to respond to
the overwhelming mystery and power that surrounds us. We are part of the
universe. Our earth was created from the universe and will one day be
reabsorbed into the universe. We are made of the same matter and energy as the
universe. We are not in exile here: we are at home. It is only here that we
will ever get the chance to see paradise face to face. If we believe our real
home is not here but in a land that lies beyond death – if we believe that the
numinous is found only in old books, or old buildings, or inside our head, or
outside this reality – then we will see this real, vibrant, luminous world as
if through a glass darkly. The universe creates us, preserves us, destroys us.
It is deep and old beyond our ability to reach with our senses. It is beautiful
beyond our ability to describe in words. It is complex beyond our ability to
fully grasp in science. We must relate to the universe with humility, awe,
reverence, celebration and the search for deeper understanding – in many of the
ways that believers relate to their God, minus the grovelling worship or the
expectation that there is some being out there who can answer our prayers.
--
Holy Ælfred
the Great, King of England, South Patron, pray for us sinners at the Souð, unworthy though we are!
Anathema to
the Union!
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