Henhouse Syndrome
In a Violent Nature offers little beyond a killer premise
I’ve long held that there are two kinds of slasher movies: those in which you root for the victims and those in which you root for the killer. The former tend to be better movies, while the latter are usually more fun. As it turns out, it’s entirely possible not to care about any of them. In a Violent Nature is essentially Friday the 13th told from Jason’s perspective, minus the hockey mask and iconic theme song — which is to say, pretty much everything that made those movies memorable in the first place. A slasher told from the slasher’s perspective is nonetheless a genuinely clever idea, so much so that it’s surprising it hasn’t already been done to death, and writer/director Chris Nash deserves a sincere golf clap for carrying the premise to its logical (read: insanely, over-the-top gory) conclusion.
There’s just one problem: a silent, lumbering killer in the Michael Myers mold doesn’t make for a compelling protagonist, especially when his many long walks through the woods are accompanied by birdsong rather than John Carpenter jamming out on a synth. (The film is not unlike Sasquatch Sunset in the extent to which it overestimates the inherent cinematic qualities of a nonverbal not-quite-human traipsing through the wilderness.) Spending so little time with the soon-to-be victims before they’re decapitated, drowned, and eviscerated makes it difficult to remember which of them are still alive, much less care; there’s a reason Laurie Strode is as synonymous with Halloween as Michael is. That problem is alleviated somewhat in the contemplative final act, which switches perspectives to that of the final girl, but by then the damage is done. These shortcomings might not make In a Violent Nature any less noble as an experiment, but they certainly make it less successful as a movie.