Not for the weak of stomach, this fantastical horror wows with its stunning sound design and strong environmental themes…
Director: Lee Haven Jones
Starring: Annes Elwy, Nia Roberts, Julian Lewis Jones
Running time: 93 minutes
After fifteen years of the genre being dominated by Blumhouse (Insidious, Paranormal Activity), you’d be forgiven for thinking there’s only one way a supernatural horror film can be done. A normal family moves into their new house, accidentally awakening some occult force that preys on their existing issues and drives the family apart, with jumpscares abound and innocents in danger.
Echoes of this formula can be found in The Feast, but for the most part it flips the script in satisfying – and often unnerving – ways. There is a house, for example: a modern mansion that clashes bleakly with the rolling Welsh countryside around it. Glenda (Nia Roberts), the wife of a Welsh MP who normally lives in London, inherited this land from her parents, but chose to sell off the farmhouse and build this brand new home.
And there is a family. We watch them preparing for a dinner party through the eyes of Cadi (Annes Elwy), a young woman summoned from a nearby village to provide help in the kitchen. The film begins slowly, as Cadi meets each family member in turn and learns their various foibles. The younger son, Guto, is a drug addict placed in exile from London by his parents. The older son, Gweirydd, is a vain businessman obsessively training for a triathlon.
Yet as these awkward, almost Pinteresque conversations take place, it is Cadi herself that provides the most intrigue. Why does she so rarely speak, even when spoken to? Why is she so keen to poke around the house? And why do muddy stains appear on things she touches?
This careful setup is clearly deliberate, but even so The Feast takes time to find its feet. The first half of the film feels ponderous at times, and it often seems like director Lee Haven Jones is aiming for a psychological thriller, but without the fast-paced shock value or emotional manipulation we would expect of such a film. However, this slow start does give the sublime sound design space to impress. From the thud of a kitchen knife to the tap of fingertips on a desk – not to mention the frequent instances of chewing food – every sound is magnified disconcertingly in our ears.
A visceral folk horror that pulls no punches, with a climax that is equal parts gothic and contemporary
This sonic masterclass transforms the open countryside setting into a claustrophobic soundscape that neither the characters nor the viewer can escape - as Cadi sets the table, for instance, the ring of a glass turns seamlessly into the screech of Guto’s guitar amplifier. The film’s soundtrack is sparse, but true silence never falls, keeping us on edge and preventing this idyllic country hideaway from being properly peaceful.
Through Cadi’s quiet gaze we learn that this family is far from innocent in the film’s eyes. Whether it’s hunting in the grounds, foraging for magic mushrooms, or drilling for oil in the fields, each resident of the house appreciates the land only for their own gain. As the film unfolds, it becomes clear that the land is not happy.
And thus The Feast settles into its true genre – a visceral folk horror that pulls no punches, with a climax that is equal parts gothic and contemporary. Fans of Edgar Allen Poe will recognise parallels to The Masque of the Red Death as we learn more about the true nature of the dinner guests. Each of them has plundered the land on which they live, and just desserts for their crimes await them in the wild, idyllic setting.
Of all the ways this film inverts the formula of a supernatural horror film, this is my favourite. There are no cliché poltergeists or restless demons here. Satanic is replaced by Chthonic, and dirt and decay are just as prevalent as blood and guts. Not only does this further bring home the film’s environmental message, it also makes the horrors of the final act feel less superstitious and far more stomach-churning.
At its heart, The Feast is a cautionary folk tale, a warning that we exploit the natural world at our own peril. From the Welsh language that sounds so artificial in the mouths of well-to-do London types, to the countryside that will not bend to their will. “After you’ve taken everything,” Glenda asks as the film draws to a close, “What will be left?”
It’s not a question. It’s a threat.
Did you know? The house used in The Feast is a real house in Wales. It was also used as a location for the 2020 film You Should Have Left.
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