Welsh film-maker Gareth Huw Evans’ Indonesian action flicks
The Raid: Redemption (2011) and The Raid 2: Berandal (2014) I reckon were the
perfect guilty pleasure movies, bedecked with intensely violent action sequences and
uncomplicated plot-line. Martial artist and actor Iko Uwais pitted against
machete-twirling, baseball bat-swinging psychopaths has offered grimly
fascinating action extravaganza. Now the Welshman with his latest film Apostle
(2018) has turned to folk horror, taking cues from British cult horrors of 70s
(especially The Wicker Man). Evans has written Apostle, long before he went to
Indonesia with his wife and stumbled upon the job to direct a documentary on
silat martial art, where he met Iko Uwais (and later collaborated with him in
three martial arts action films). Evans does establish himself as a good
storyteller in Apostle as much as precisely staging those kinetic martial arts sequences. But
unfortunately, the plot suffers from too much of clumsy turns and contrivances
to provide an emotionally affecting experience.
Set in the year 1905, Thomas Richardson (Legion fame Dan Stevens), an ex-missionary and son of a wealthy Englishman, is charged with
rescuing his sister (Elen Rhys), who is held for ransom by a pagan cult
holing-up in the remote island of Erisden. Thomas arrives at the island after
carefully switching his boarding documents with those of another passenger so
as to evade his sister’s kidnappers. The island and its inhabitants seem to hail
straightly from medieval Europe as they worship a real
blood-seeking earth goddess. The groups of settlers are led by the self-styled prophet and egalitarian Malcom (Michael Sheen). He promises a life
with moral decency and good work, and freedom from onerous taxations.
The dark underpinnings behind Malcolm’s vision of peace and
social harmony are ascertained from his gang of raging enforcers. Within few
nights in the island, Thomas discovers odd rituals in the village, for example
the jars of blood the residents leave outside their bedroom doors every night. Thomas
wanders the night with torchlight to try and understand what’s really going on
and find out where his sister is kept. Meanwhile, two young lovers keep their
night-time encounters secret, which later brings devastating consequences.
Moreover, Thomas acquaints himself with Malcolm’s unsuspecting, good-hearted
daughter Andrea (Lucy Boynton). In the subsequent quest to save his sister,
Thomas has to endure supernatural forces and outwit the savagery of religious
nuts.
If Apostle works to an extent, it’s because of the right
actors (particularly Michael Sheen was a good choice) and Evans’ ability to
conjure atmospheric, isolationist terror out of the medieval setting. The
claustrophobia eked out from the unforgiving island adds a disturbing immediacy
to the narrative (captured with muted, period-era color palette). Evans’ script is heavy on atmospheric details
but fumbles with character sketches. The characters remain true to their types
(savior protagonist, demented despot, naive teenagers, empathetic girl, and so
on), and their actions become increasingly cliche as the plot moves forward. What
made Wicker Man such a wonderful horror classic is not just the eerie
atmosphere, but also the zealotry expressed by the whole community who
initially, on the surface, appear to be very friendly and civil. In Apostle,
apart from Malcolm and his disgruntled friends, Quinn (Mark Lewis Jones) and Frank
(Paul Higgins), we don’t sense the cultural-social paranoia affecting the
community. Malcolm’s flock doesn’t even
seem much devoted to the cause.
Although Evans has moved from kinetic action to supernatural
horror, his signature intensity glows when he ratchets up the brutality by
dropping slow-burn tension for extreme gore. Two scenes involving medieval
torture devices are effectively choreographed in order to elevate the genre
pleasures. In fact, the expansive macabre elements partly make up for the
flawed writing. Apostle does offer a timeless as well as timely commentary on
the madness of religious fervor and savagery of power-hungry men. The image of
a god literally kept in captive and perpetually gifted with the blood of
innocents serves as a invective commentary on human’s exploitation of religious
faith. But such themes are only presented in a muddled manner and gets lost in
a forgettable narrative. Altogether, Apostle (129 minutes) is visually
striking, super-gory, cult-society horror that lacks great deal of emotional
weight.
Trailer
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