They paved paradise and put up a parking lot.
Joni Mitchell’s dystopian view of the future of the countryside about sums up the complex themes of Athina Rachel Tsangari’s unsettling new feature, an impressive if somewhat overlong screen version of novelist Jim Crace’s Harvest. It is the second of the Greek iconoclast’s films to bow in competition at Venice after Attenberg won a Coppa Volpi in 2010. In quasi-mythical terms, the writer-director-producer describes the original loss of common land, once fences began going up to enclose endless meadows, hills, lakes and streams, and the unhappy moment when nature began to be viewed as a profit-making enterprise.
Fortunately, Harvest recounts this pre-historical fall from grace not as dry socio-economic history, but as a sort of universal myth. Set in an English village that doesn’t even have a name, it takes place in a time outside history – the homespun clothes and pagan traditions of the locals look like a mishmash of Medieval and Elizabethan, with a good dash of Celtic thrown in. The story is seen through the eyes of Walter, a bucolic child of nature and a passive observer of the disaster that overtakes his town in the space of a week. Caleb Landry Jones embodies the strapping villager with a big heart and a smidgen of learning, thanks to his having been the childhood companion, and still the best friend, of Master Charles Kent, lord of the manor (Harry Melling). For his part, Master Kent is a weak, conflicted, comically helpless fellow who dresses as atrociously as the peasants, often in voluminous skirts instead of pants; and after the death of his young wife, there is only one love in his life – his horse.
The opening scene describes Walter’s complete identification with nature in a triumph of expressive Malick-like hand-held camerawork – playing with insects and sheaves of wheat, swimming in a crystalline lake, fully enjoying the wonder of life – that shows off Sean Price-Williams’ cinematography at its most seductive. Without warning the scene changes to the terrifying confusion of a raging fire in the stables of the manor house. While drunken boys pump water on a big wheel like rats on a treadmill, Walter rescues the master’s beloved horse.
The wheel seems like a symbol that foretells movement and change of another kind, and a number of unsettling events occur destined to have long-range consequences. Tsangari has compared the film to a tragicomic Western of sorts, and though the connection is a long shot, Landry Jones’ favorite wrap is a shawl-like blue blanket that does ring a Clint Eastwood bell. The first novelty to appear in the remote village (which is three days’ ride from the nearest market) is an erudite mapmaker (likable stage actor Arinzé Kene) who is at work sketching in the lay of the land for Master Kent. He is amazed that the lake and other locations, like the village itself, have no names, and when he concocts fancy monikers for them, a warning light begins to flash.
Next to show up are three strangers in a boat: two angry men armed with bows and arrows and a mysterious woman (Shakespearean actress Thalissa Teixeira) the men ogle and call Mistress Belle Dame. The farmers’ reaction is swift and punishing. They put the men in stocks and decide to leave them in that uncomfortable position for a week, while the women shear off the woman’s lustrous black hair and her eyes silently scream revenge.
Finally the greatest threat of all appears: Kent’s cruel young brother-in-law Edmund (Frank Dillane from Fear the Walking Dead), cutting a lordly figure in a black waistcoat over white lace. Since Kent has no heirs and is incapable of putting up a fight, Edmund can legally take possession of the manor and lay down the law for the improvements he envisions: ending unprofitable wheat-growing and cutting down all the trees to make more pasture for sheep. It is the historical moment of enclosure, when property was delineated, agriculture replaced by wool production, and dispossessed peasants forced to move away.
Even if he, too, is something of a coward, Walter ranks high as a boldly drawn character. Landry Jones doesn’t need to play the hero to be appealing, and here he modulates his wild men characters of Breaking Bad, Nitram and Dogman with a reassuring, offhand warmth. He is openly emotionally sensitive and still mourns his wife, who died of a bee sting and cannot be easily replaced by the attractive and willing Widow Gosse (Rosy McEwans, who actually feels like a character out of a Western and is a bit superfluous to this story.) Despite his imposing physique, Walter doesn’t beat up or outsmart the villains and in a scuffle he can be counted on to get knocked out quickly. He is more observer and witness than protagonist, although some of the final, most resonant words are his: “Ploughing is our sacrament.”
Landry Jones is credited along with Nicolas Becker, Ian Hassett and Lexx for the magical soundtrack of compositions hovering between raw, primitive sounds and musical notes, which underscore almost every scene with something rich and strange.
Director: Athina Rachel Tsangari
Screenplay: Joslyn Barnes, Athina Rachel Tsangari
Cast: Caleb Landry Jones, Harry Melling, Rosy McEwen, Arinzé Kene, Thalissa Teixeira, Frank Dillane
Producers: Rebecca O’Brien, Joslyn Barnes, Viola Fügen, Michael Weber, Athina Rachel Tsangari, Elias Katsoufis, Marie-Elena Dyche
Cinematography: Sean Price-Williams
Editing: Matt Johnson, Nico Leunen
Production design: Nathan Parker
Costume design: Kirsty Halliday
Music: Nicolas Becker, Ian Hassett, Caleb Landry Jones, Lexx
Sound: Nicolas Becker
Production companies: Sixteen Films, Louverture Films, Match Factory Productions, Haos Film, Why Not, Meraki Film
World Sales: The Match Factory
Venue: Venice Film Festival (Competition)
In English
131 minutes
