Enys Men

(THE SLIGHTHOUSE)

Something for all those who thought The Lighthouse was too straightforward. There's something to be said for the fact that the Cornish language is all but dead; it's a story lost, floating and bobbing in time, a myth written in barely discernible scratchings. I have no idea what's going on, but I'm transfixed by it.

Shows the through-line from Epstein’s LE TEMPESTAIRE to those BBC folk boil classics, evoking Gordon Clark’s STIGMA the most. Its assurance in approach keeps you invested through a main character who basically only speaks through action and hesitation. The many threads, though, don’t find needed satisfaction - even that oblique art-house kind. ENYS MEN looks just like its ilk from 50 years ago, and if it came out then, it’d be a whispered oddity. Now it’s just odd.

Jenkin's confidence in his film, Enys Men, is justified as its imagery, and Woodvine's expressive face carry it without a narrative engine. The film's haunting portrayal of grief and loneliness casts a unique spell, where the absence of answers adds up to a vivid portrait. The Volunteer, alone on a reflective island, can't escape past tragedies that pierce her solace.

"Enys Men" has its merits in terms of visuals and sound design, but the lack of a clear narrative and slow pacing overshadow these strengths. While some viewers may appreciate the experimental nature of the movie, its shortcomings in storytelling and character development ultimately make it a forgettable experience for the majority of the audience.

Top badass moment? To be honest they’re so few moments of any sort, there isn’t really one. A woman measures the soil temperature each day near a plant (that isn’t even real anyway). And throws a stone or two down an old well. And likes tea. And looks to be a pretty slow reader. And has an overimaginative imagination. That’s it. Oh, nearly forgot, there're lots of meaningful, lingering shots of seagulls and stuff. I guess I'm saying I didn't think much of it. No cats, chainsaws or decapitations.

Lo-fi hallucination horror, mostly a one-woman show, treated with grain and celluloid-blemish digital filters to look old. It's cute, I kind of liked what got through, but I for one am a bit too attention-deficit to have payed it my undivided attention.

Film as a piece of poetry-this is a most puzzlingly beautiful and interesting film-many things link together but ultimately it comes down to the viewer’s own interpretation of events past, present or imagined and what they all mean.

Striking visuals and sounds channeling Cornish folklore. Its non-linear approach and lack of compromise make it quite challenging to follow. Not for everyone, it will be accused of 'style over substance' but a triumph for arthouse cinema.