In a Violent Nature (2024)
A spoiler-free review.
Violence and the Nature of Boredom
When I first saw the trailer for Chris Nash’s In a Violent Nature, it seemed like an avant-garde Friday the 13th, which is essentially artless trash. My interest was piqued.
The Friday the 13th franchise, with the exception of Part VI: Jason Lives (1986), epitomizes the laziness of the slasher genre. Conceived as a rip-off of Halloween (1978), the series’ sole appeal lies in the slaughter of indistinct sexed-up teens.
Utterly lacking in technical and narrative competence, Friday the 13th’s only scraps of artistry lie in the gruesome special make-up effects designed by Tom Savini, dubbed “The Godfather of Gore.” The body is his canvas and he paints in blood. A master of his craft, his work was vital to the genre’s appeal.
What would an artistic take on artless trash look like?
If slashers are a dime a dozen, In a Violent Nature is worth a solid 50¢. Pretty good in this economy.
Writer/director Chris Nash cites Terrence Malick as an inspiration. Malick has never made a horror film, yet Nash imbues his slasher with Malick’s distinctive thematic connection to nature, contemplative pacing, and wandering cinematography. Combined with hyperrealistic slaughter inspired by Savini’s work, In a Violent Nature is a loving homage to the slasher genre, riddled with references yet stylistically distinct.
The plot is as simple as they come: a group of indistinct teens go camping, tamper with a cursed artifact, and awaken an unthinkable evil. With the building blocks of the most mundane slashers, In a Violent Nature deploys these essential components within new contexts, building suspense via long tracking shots and restraint until the film erupts into brutal displays of barbarity that surpass reason, spiraling into the absurd.
In the film’s first third, Nash’s deliberate pacing is deliberately unstimulating. There is no foreboding score, no jump scares, and none of the atmospheric trappings traditionally associated with cinematic horror.
Instead, the sounds of cicadas chirping and wind rustling the trees keep the viewer on edge until, after a few minutes, they begin to lull the viewer into dubious serenity until, after a few more minutes, boredom begins to creep in.
Nash seemingly weds the slasher genre with elements of the “slow cinema” movement, which utilizes boredom to create distance between the on-screen spectacle and the viewer’s experience of that spectacle. These moments of boredom allow the viewer’s mind to wander, giving them time to introspect.
My mind wandered into fruitful territory. As Johnny marches inexorably forward, the camera tracks him from behind. I considered the camera’s placement, how it stalks the killer, and how that cultivates an association between the killer and the viewers’ POV.
Considering the genre, I recalled C.J. Clover’s seminal 1987 essay, "Her Body, Himself: Gender in the Slasher Film," which posits a gendered association between the slasher genre’s predominantly male viewers and the killer, who penetrates the victim’s flesh with phallic weapons.
Clover posits that towards the end of the film, viewers' associations shift away from the killer, realigning with the final survivor, typically a woman with “boyish qualities,” whom Clover dubs “The Final Girl.” The viewer’s sympathy transcends gender as the audience turns against the murderous monster.
Then, still tracking the hulking man’s jaunt through the woods, my ADHD-ridden brain began bumping Brat, Charli xcx’s sixth studio album. Instead of the sounds of the trees, I was hearing “360.” Johnny's walk through nature was subsumed by images of Charli, bra-less in a white tank top, pouring a glass of red wine while standing on a vibration plate, a most stimulating image.
I thought of recutting the film to exclusively feature footage of Johnny’s walk through the forest. I figured that version of the film would clock in around 23 minutes and pair wonderfully with “I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles)” by The Proclaimers.
Then, after playing coy, In a Violent Nature gets violent. Once unleashed, it is relentless. Gorehounds can eat their hearts out and still have plenty of carnage for leftovers. Restraint is hacked to gory bits, and the viewer isn’t spared a single scrap of savagery.
The film’s sonic dimensions are as rich as its singular style and sensibilities. The soothing birdsong is sorely missed when replaced by the grinding sounds of machinery in a protracted sequence of dismemberment. The omnipresent droning of cicadas suddenly crescendoes into a screaming cacophony as terrified teens flee through the forest in the dead of night. Clover’s archetype of “The Final Girl,” now ubiquitous within the horror genre, is indulged and then subverted in a thought-provoking fashion.
If you’re a slasher sicko like me, In a Violent Nature offers the same perverse thrills in shiny new packaging, a new formulation catering to the same taste.
Everyone else should steer clear of Johnny and his violent nature.
Until next week, don’t go hiking alone, film freak.
I particularly enjoy your reviews when I laugh out loud at the way that you write, your word choices and sarcasm.
Did you get all of this from a single viewing of this film?? You seem to pick up a lot of details!!