Certificate: 15 (brief strong sex, self-harm, upsetting scenes, psychological threat). Running Time: 90 mins. UK Distributor: BFI
WHO’S IN IT?
Mary Woodvine, Edward Rowe, Flo Crowe, John Woodvine, Joe Gray, Loveday Twomlow
WHO’S BEHIND THE CAMERA?
Mark Jenkin (director, writer, composer, cinematographer, editor), Denzil Monk (producer)
WHAT’S IT ABOUT?
A wildlife volunteer (Woodvine) finds herself on a psychedelic journey into her own soul…
WHAT ARE MY THOUGHTS ON ENYS MEN?
While Cornish filmmaker Mark Jenkin’s BAFTA-winning 2019 debut feature Bait is perhaps best remembered for its über-vintage style – it was shot on hand-processed 16mm monochrome film, with a hand-cranked Bolex camera that couldn’t even record sound – one tends to forget that it also has a compelling enough narrative to match its visual ambitions, tackling themes such as gentrification and class with characters who one could easily identify with, all within a depiction of Cornwall that’s far from romanticised. While unusual in its overall approach, the even balance of style and substance did help it stand out for many critics and audiences that year.
Then, there’s Jenkin’s sophomore feature Enys Men (pronounced Ennis Main, for those unfamiliar with the Cornish dialect) which, unlike Bait, blatantly favours its invigorating retro style over just about everything else, and as a result is set to be far more divisive amongst viewers who may be hoping for something driven more by plot and character than how it looks. As for me, I did find a fair bit to admire about the film, but equally as much to feel frustrated by.
Set in 1973, on a remote island just off the Cornish coast, Enys Men follows an unnamed woman, listed in the credits only as “The Volunteer” (Mary Woodvine), as she lives a heavily isolated existence. Her main job appears to be monitoring a rare flower growing by the cliffside, which she regularly reports on in her logbook (though it largely consists of the words “no change”), and the rest of the day she follows her own little rituals including dropping rocks down a mineshaft – a confounding tradition at first, but is apparently more common among the Cornish folk than one might think – and getting the generator motor that powers her small cottage to function properly. Her only communication with the outside world is a radio that occasionally transmits some distress signals and football scores, but other than that she’s pretty much on her own. Of course, it’s not long before a series of bizarre events begin to unfold, sending The Volunteer (and, by extension, the audience) on a strange metaphysical journey that incorporates aspects of Cornish history, ominous rocks that tower over objects like the monoliths in 2001: A Space Odyssey, and ghostly figures seemingly from her own past.
As with his previous feature, Jenkin’s greatest asset is his retro filmmaking style, which gives Enys Men a unique glow among today’s other similarly surreal offerings. Once again shooting on 16mm film (this time in colour), Jenkin creates a dream-like aesthetic that makes his feature feel like it actually was made in the early 1970s, from the grainy film stock overlay to sharp zooms in and out of important focal points which highlight some of the stranger sights throughout. Visually, it looks like a long-lost experimental Nicolas Roeg feature – the main character even wears a red coat that is strikingly similar to the iconic one from Roeg’s Don’t Look Now – but Jenkin goes further by utilising his keen eye for abstract imagery to make the viewer feel as though they are always dreaming, with every sudden little detail such as the inexplicable appearance of other previously unestablished people or certain fungus beginning to grow across wounds all being ripe for questioning as to whether it’s all real or not. It’s an approach that I respect, because Jenkin does have a firm enough grip behind the camera to draw the viewer in with surreal visuals, and then inspire their subconscious to constantly challenge what is being presented to them, as one might do whilst sleeping and beginning to realise the absurdity within their own dreams.
However, where I feel that Jenkin isn’t as forceful or persuasive is within Enys Men’s narrative components. While it is established very early on that this is the kind of film where the main point is to give a psychological experience rather than tell a traditional three-act structure, there still needs to be something more substantial for the viewer to latch onto, so that it feels as emotionally satisfying as it does aesthetically. Here, there isn’t much to comment on when it comes to plot or characters, because such little time is spent on either of them that they might as well be non-existent amidst the surreal atmosphere that Jenkin provides. As such, it’s difficult to tell exactly what he is trying to say, or even what is meant to be happening, since he keeps things so vague about his main character (to where we never truly know her backstory, or even her real name) and offers few explanations to even the simplest of things that it begins to come across as empty, and as simply being weird for the sake of being weird. I get that it’s supposed to be more of an experience than anything else, but when it’s just that and little of anything else, then things can get pretty tedious and even frustrating as you desperately want to make sense of it all but can’t, because it’s not giving you enough of an emotional balance to warrant your investment in its weirdness.
While a lot of Enys Men can certainly be difficult to wrap one’s head around, I must give Jenkin credit for having the tenacity to stick with his filmmaking principles and offer something that is profoundly him, rather than try to cater toward more general cinematic tastes. Both Bait and Enys Men are works by an individual who not only harbours a genuine fascination for classic filmmaking techniques, but also desires to experiment with them in ways that make for some intense and even chilling retro imagery that really stands out amidst today’s more conventional crop of filmmakers. At the same time, though, I am more inclined to favour Bait over this film, because at least it was able to balance its visual prowess with a genuinely compelling and thoughtful narrative that resonates emotionally with the viewer as much as its imagery does. Here, it’s very much a case of “style over substance”, and although there’s a lot to admire and respect about the ways in which it captures this very bizarre psychological atmosphere, it’s difficult to fully invest when it’s lacking in both plot and character necessary enough to support it.
SO, TO SUM UP…
Enys Men is a visually fascinating new film by BAFTA-winner Mark Jenkin, who incorporates retro filmmaking styles like shooting on 16mm colour film to replicate the kind of moody experimental feature from the 1970s, but the sizeable lack of a compelling enough narrative makes it difficult and even frustrating to become invested in its stylish but empty atmosphere.
