In 1973, a volunteer (Mary Woodvine) botanist on a remote island off the Cornish coast is studying a rare flower that has bloomed there.  For weeks, she records “no change” as she goes about her daily life, until one morning she notices a fruticose lichen growing on the flower’s petals.  As the fungus grows, she begins to notice a similar fungus growing on her own skin and soon she begins to realize she may not be alone on this island after all.   

Mark Jenkin writes, directs, shoots, and edits Enys Men, an atmospheric horror film included in the Director’s Fortnight during the 2022 Cannes Film Festival.  Later picked up by Neon and streaming on Hulu, to say the film is sparse in narrative already puts too much weight and expectations of a story on the 91-minute film that is instead a character study. More so than even the botanist, it is a study of the island, and Jenkin’s skills behind the camera shine as he creates a fully realized and totally unsettling atmosphere for his camera to absorb. 

Shot in 16mm and presented in tightly cropped 4:3, Jenkin’s colors are bold and vibrant with plenty of grain across the image. This texture really helps make the film feel tangible when its plot – a word used very loosely here – is something far more ethereal and it does not feel like a cheap visual trick but really helps enhance the environment.  We feel like we are seeing something we perhaps should not be witness to, almost as if Jenkin has harnessed the emotional reaction of a found footage film but taken away the schtick that gets immediately attached to films in that subgenre of horror.  Jenkin’s film is incredibly sparse on details to an almost frustrating degree given the amount of detail poured into every frame and deliberate cut.  He does not define enough of these elements for audiences to really be able to grapple with these images and assemble them into a unified vision.  While ambiguity is welcome in an atmospheric mystery, too much of it as seen here results in a collection of unique images more than a coherent story. 

If one hundred people watched Enys Men, there would be one hundred different interpretations, including one such where the island seems to be caught between time.  As the botanist’s diary eventually begins to hold a record of something other than “no change” it is not just the flower that is changing but also her solitary experience.  She begins hearing noises from beneath the island, and upon checking the well, she sees a miner (Joe Gray) looking up at her from a mining expedition long ago disbanded.  She begins seeing a girl (Flo Crowe) in the corridors of her house until eventually she is seen on the roof, jumping, hoping for death.  In addition, there is a commune that also begins to occupy her small home with her.  While all of this is happening, the island, the home, and a stone obelisk that holds some holy or cultural significance to the history of the island begin to oscillate between various states of order and disrepair.  As everything is furiously converging in these final minutes, the botanist witnesses a water rescue off the shores of the island, but what makes this rescue even more terrifying is that the boatman (Edward Rowe) who was pulled from the waters is the one who had been bringing her supplies across her time there. As she watches on, one of the rescuers looks up at her, and in a horrifying revelation, the botanist sees herself in the boat, dressed in the orange suit of the Coast Guard with the dead boatman on her lap. 

Jenkin’s film is undeniably beautiful with its echoing score accented by the natural soundscape, but there just is not enough form for it to make an impact.  It is a work of art, and while the camera and cuts move far too much to be considered a work of slow cinema, like slow cinema it can be factored down somewhat disingenuously to being little more than a series of beautiful and meticulously crafted images.  Jenkin is without a doubt a fine craftsman, but as a writer, his script was a little too thin and as a director, he lacked the voice to really guide his vision into fruition on the screen.  It is a shame because there is so much value on the screen here, but it just does not come together into a cohesive narrative.  There are hints at a truly terrifying descent into madness, but in an effort to increase the mystery, it is frustrating that Jenkin forgets to leave his audience enough clues and resolution to all which he is alluding to so that we can feel more fully the terror which the botanist is experiencing. Enys Men still elicits that feeling of confusion and mystery we seek in films of this nature so we stay engaged, but we are missing that final punch and never get to a satisfying ending.