In A Violent Nature

It’s a ripe 98 degrees outside, the sun belts its UV rays and the blistering sunshine invites the overgrown trees of the wilderness to cast their shadows on the leaves-and-twigs-ridden forest ground. The setting naturally befits the latest National Geographic nature documentary studying the ruthless food chain of the wild and the relationship between an apex predator and its prey: a lion and its zebra, a wolf and its fox, or a killer and its victims.  It doubles as the optimal ground zero for the quintessential summer slasher, a subgenre made familiar by the onset of the iconic Friday the 13th where the campgrounds serve as a breeding ground for reckless youth to act on their overflowing hormones and vices. In A Violent Nature marries the nature doc with the slasher and from this union, emerges a grisly and murderous deconstruction of the subgenre.

After a group of young adults mistakenly remove an artifact from its resting location, they unknowingly awaken a vengeful spirit from its slumber. Now on the move, Johnny (Ry Barrett), the undead villain, armed with a pair of chained hooks and adorned with a vintage firefighting mask, will stop at nothing to retrieve the locket that kept his spirit at bay.

Johnny (Ry Barrett) admiring his work, donning his unique mask and wielding his freshly-bloodied hooks.

What always sets the slasher above the usual fodder is not necessarily how it breaks the foundation laid down by the subgenre’s forefathers, but how it adopts the slasher scripture and molds the formulaic rules onto itself. In a Violent Nature sets itself apart through its inventive decision to tell the familiar story of campers slowly getting picked off one by one through the killer’s perspective. The group’s car still malfunctions and encounters a creepy attendant while trying to get help. The grating fraternity stud still tries to scare his friends with urban legends at the campfire. The stoner goes out for a smoke alone and meets his demise. The scantily clothed ditz blissfully stares out into the darkness, but now, viewers are staring right back at her through the eyes of the masked murderer. We’re still privy to the predictable tropes and group dynamics of such films but always through the periphery – peering through the towering trees of the forest, cowering in the shadows of the cabin, or standing in the shrubbery across the murky lake. The even-tempered breathing, the crunching of the leaves at each pace, or distant screaming stand in place of a conventional score, building tension and counting down the moments until the inevitable striking blows are delivered, the likes of which are some of the most sickening and grotesque in recent memory.

The likes of which are delivered in some of the most sickening and grotesque ways a film has done in recent memory. And writer/director Chris Nash showcases the murders he’s cooked up front and center, never shying away from the blood-spattering and gut-spilling. The mean-spiritedness of the kills themselves, and even the kitschy special effects of synthetic candy-red blood and apparent prosthetic work, feel like a tribute to the heyday of slashers. It’s a godsend that Nash offers audiences a moment of reprieve in the serenity of the surroundings.

While following our antagonist, the director isn’t hesitant to stop and smell the roses. Johnny walks at a snail’s pace, partly due to his undead nature, but also to draw attention away from the mangling and towards the captivating offerings of the earthly surroundings, truly placing the audience in his perspective and letting the atmosphere wash over us. He takes leisurely strides through blooming meadows at a vibrant sunset, takes in the isolation of the locale, and treads through flourishing flora. Pierce Derks’ lush cinematography and portraiture 1.37:1 framing give both the images of greenery and murder a picturesque quality, furthering the dichotomy between its high-brow nature doc aesthetic and the brutal attacks. In unhurriedly displaying the quiet beauty of nature and lingering on the dense foliage throughout the film, Nash primes the audience’s wandering eye and soon, taunts them to frantically look for the killer in the frames once the bloodshed ramps up again.

In a Violent Nature peels back the glossy veneer of studio horror and unleashes a raw and visceral demonstration of carnage. It’s cleverly self-aware, direct, and stands confident in languidly observing the generic slasher villain as a merciless wild animal. The modern-day Friday the 13th set out an intention to flip the script and accomplished depicting a slasher through a killer’s POV with flying colors (or limbs). It checks all the boxes of a perfect summer slasher: performances that are accurate to the stupidity and naivety of such films, the palpable July atmosphere is present, and the kills are memorable and refuse to hold back. But ultimately, when the blood has settled and the hooks are put down, In a Violent Nature’s unconventional juxtaposition of nature’s untouched beauties with the unfathomable violence of an undead killer sensibly caters to and toys with the audience’s bloodlust up to its final frames.

Verdict: With a fresh new perspective on the tried-and-true slasher, In A Violent Nature slices and dices its way towards a Nick Pick though its quiet and serene pacing might not be for everyone. (4/5)