Starve Acre arrives with pedigree; an adaptation of an acclaimed book from a filmmaker with a well-regarded debut and helmed by two respected actors. It should be one of the vanguard titles of the ongoing folk horror resurgence. But, while the foundations are there, what is unearthed from the mud and loam of Merrie Olde Albion is unfortunately far too mundane and familiar, for all its ancient malevolence.

Richard and Juliette (Matt Smith and Morfydd Clark) move from Leeds to Richard’s childhood home in the Yorkshire countryside, along with their young son Owen (Arthur Shaw). Despite the fact that archaeologist Richard suffered bizarre abuse at the hands of his father, the couple decide the rural environment will be good for Owen. However, the boy begins acting up in alarming, violent ways. Not only that, but Richard begins obsessing about the trunk of an ancient oak supposedly buried in the field beside their home. Both sets of behaviours seem to be related to Jack Grey, a figure from local folklore.

Safe to say, tragedy strikes and the subsequent furrow that Richard plows locks Starve Acre into the standard tropes it never escapes. The film is in general overly beholden to the classics of the genre. It’s beautiful, and Apostasy director Daniel Kokotajlo is clearly in love with the genre, given how awash the film is in lore, history, and the inherent paganism of the ancient countryside, yet feels shallow in comparison to the greats of the subgenre. That’s not to say it doesn’t have its own interesting ideas. A skeleton of a rabbit that reconstitutes itself like Frank Cotton in Hellraiser is effective, and a sober spiritualist who is more Vera Drake than Madame Blavatsky in appearance is a nice touch. Yet not only is it awash in recognisable tropes of the subgenre, it also wallows in the themes of grief and loss that seem to be ubiquitous and explicit in modern horror.

It can’t be denied the film looks the part. The ’70s setting doesn’t merely evoke the period, but feels locked into it. The grain of the film stock is richly textured and the muted, earthy tones extend to the cast’s wardrobe. Along with the central, ultra-restrained performances from Smith and Clark, it draws forth a sense of sombre isolation which is the most disquieting element of the film. But this is where it stalls. the atmosphere never progresses beyond pervasive gloom into the necessary dread and fear, even as it begins to lurch towards madness in the third act.

Starve Acre also lacks the playfulness and sinister whimsy that mark out the beloved classics like The Wicker Man, or even recent entries like Lord of Misrule or Oddity. It gamely sticks to its gothic mood – all wuthering fields and brusque personality – but it’s sorely missing the mischief and mordant humour that underpins much English folk legend as far back as Gawain and the Green Knight. It’s all a little too self-serious and willfully obscure in presentation, while feeling overall rather hollow.

In cinemas from Fri 6 Sep 2024