In the Earth

Any project about the effects of a global virus, filmed during an actual pandemic, would seem to carry an inevitable relevance. Yet In the Earth never fully capitalizes on those unsettling circumstances.

Despite an ambitious and timely concept, this muddled British horror slow-burn establishes an appropriately foreboding atmosphere — exploring the connections between humans and nature while lacking a deeper visceral terror.

Martin (Joel Fry) is a researcher sent to a remote forest to test soils for agricultural purposes. After a required quarantine, he heads out with a ranger, Alma (Ellora Torchia), to set up camp. “People get a bit funny in the woods sometimes,” they’re curiously warned ahead of time. “It’s a hostile environment.”

The lush beauty of their surroundings clashes with the apprehensive mood brought about by a pandemic that remains unnamed. “Things will get back to normal quicker than you think,” Alma reassures him. “Everybody will just forget what happened.”

Expecting a respite from the gloom of urban life, Martin becomes ill and then is attacked overnight in his tent. The next day, they encounter a stranger (Reece Shearsmith) who initially offers to help treat their wounds, but as his behavior becomes more erratic, it’s clear he has ulterior motives.

From there, things get progressively darker and weirder, mixing in mumbo-jumbo about alchemist rituals, obscure ancient folklore, and the creation of a language through the natural sounds of trees and stones.

Bolstered by strong performances and intriguing character dynamics, In the Earth begins as a variation on a familiar setup involving two people alone in the woods with limited resources and a fear of the unknown that turns out to be justified.

Some of the subsequent twists are more satisfying than others as the screenplay by director Ben Wheatley (Free Fire) mixes in some hardcore gore for genre aficionados.

Wheatley’s assured visual craftsmanship includes stylish low-budget flourishes and disorienting strobe effects to maximize the discomfort, accompanied by a genre-bending electronic score by Clint Mansell (Black Swan). Yet the suspense wavers along with the narrative momentum, ultimately yielding a mixed-bag payoff.

Still, as their nightmarish odyssey unfolds, suddenly home isolation and social distancing protocols don’t seem so bad.

Rated R, 107 minutes.