2021 • United Kingdom
A masked research station, a two-day walk into the woods and a standing stone that appears to be doing something extremely unhelpful to the local fungal network. Ben Wheatley’s In the Earth (2021) arrives dressed for the pandemic, then promptly drags Joel Fry into the trees for a very bad time involving spores, sound waves, folk devils, improvised surgery and Reese Shearsmith with the energy of a man who has been alone in the woods for far too long.
In this Folk ’n’ Hell episode, Andy Davidson, Dave Houghton and David Hall head into Wheatley’s lockdown-made woodland nightmare and find a film that is plainly folk horror, though not necessarily the sort that comes waving bells, masks and sacrificial livestock directly at the camera. The discussion starts with the Covid-shaped world of the film: quarantine, disinfectant, isolation, awkward human distance and a sense that nobody has touched anyone else for months. From there, the hosts move into the forest itself, where Dr Martin Lowery and ranger Alma encounter Zach, Olivia Wendle, and an ancient presence known through the name Parnag Feg.
The big question is not so much whether In the Earth qualifies as folk horror. The hosts broadly agree that it does. The threat is in the environment, it reaches back through old stories and strange stones, and it traps a small group of people in a landscape that does not care whether they understand it. The more interesting question is whether the film’s hallucinogenic assault of sound, light, ritual and pseudo-science earns its atmosphere, or simply leaves you blinking in a mushroom cloud wondering what happened to your evening.
Andy is particularly taken with the film’s elemental, almost Lovecraftian force, and the idea of glimpsing a hidden mechanism behind the universe. Dave admires how Wheatley turns limitation into control, making a contained film that feels deliberately claustrophobic rather than merely small. David is more reserved, enjoying much of it but finding the sound and psychedelic intensity hard going, and feeling that some of its ecological leaps are a bit much.
There is admiration here, but not blind worship. In the Earth is treated as a strong, strange, occasionally abrasive folk horror film, one with the genre in its bones rather than pasted on like a damp maypole.
“This film has it in its bones.” FolknHell host, Andy Davidson
In The Earth follows Dr Martin Lowery, who arrives at a remote research outpost during a pandemic and sets off into the woods with park ranger Alma. His stated purpose is to join scientist Olivia Wendle, who has been studying crop growth and plant behaviour in the forest. The journey quickly turns nasty: Martin and Alma are attacked, disoriented and drawn into the camp of Zach, Olivia’s unstable ex-husband, who is attempting his own ritualistic communication with whatever lives beneath the trees.
At the centre of it all is a standing stone, a fungal network and the old figure of Parnag Feg, a forest presence that may be folklore, ecology, intelligence, infection or all of the above. The film becomes a battle between art, science and whatever the Earth is trying to say back.
The verdict is a confident yes, even if the route there is a little mossy. The hosts apply their usual criteria: a threat in and of the environment, a threat from another time, and isolation. In The Earth ticks the first two without much argument. The woods are not just a setting, they are the system of threat, with fungus, spores, stone and sound all working together. The “different time” element comes through the standing stone, the 15th-century witchcraft associations, and the old story of Parnag Feg, a folkloric shape placed over something much stranger.
The isolation criterion is slightly more complicated. There is no village conspiracy or tight rural community, no smiling locals ushering outsiders towards the ceremonial unpleasantness. Instead, the film offers isolated individuals: Martin, Alma, Zach and Olivia, each cut off in different ways. Dave notes that Zach and Olivia are isolated rather than a community, but that hardly lets the film off the hook. This is folk horror as quarantine ecology, where the community has been replaced by a network under the soil.
The hosts also admire that it does not over-perform its folk horror credentials. It has ritual, landscape, old belief, sacrifice and an ancient presence, but it is not desperately waving antlers in your face. Its folk horror is fungal, embedded and quietly malignant.
“It’s very folk and it’s a Ben Wheatley film. Chances are it’s folk horror.” FolknHell host, Andy Davidson
- Pandemic isolation The film’s masked arrivals, disinfectant routines and empty research station make Covid impossible to ignore. The hosts see the production limitations as part of the atmosphere, giving every interaction a brittle, distanced quality.
- The woods as an active force This is not a forest you simply walk through. Spores, fungal networks and the standing stone suggest a landscape with its own systems, signals and boundaries.
- Art versus science, until both get stabby Zach tries ritual, photography and old texts, while Olivia frames her work as science. The hosts enjoy the contrast, but also point out that both approaches end up looking suspiciously similar once Martin is tied to a chair.
- A very bad time for Joel Fry Martin spends much of the film drugged, injured, experimented on or looking as if he has just realised the countryside has betrayed him. The hosts find dark humour in just how relentlessly the film uses him as its suffering receiver.
- Old folklore meeting ecological weirdness Parnag Feg may be an ancient forest spirit, or it may be the human name for an intelligence rooted in mycelium, sound and earth. The film works best when those explanations overlap rather than settle.
- Sound, light and sensory punishment The film’s harsh soundscape and pulsing visuals divide the hosts. David finds it tough on the ears, while the others see that discomfort as part of its psychedelic design.
The hosts agree that In The Earth is folk horror, and a good one, though not an easy or universally lovable one. Dave gives it an enthusiastic 8 out of 10, praising it as a contained, enjoyable film that turns Covid-era restrictions into tight control. David lands at 6.5, admiring plenty but feeling he enjoyed it less than he hoped, especially with the abrasive sound and hallucinogenic style. Andy gives it a confident 7, responding strongly to its elemental, unknowable force and Ben Wheatley’s ability to approach folk horror from a different angle.
That brings the Folk ’n’ Hell score to 21.5 out of 30. The recommendation is there, but with a warning: this is not cosy fireside folk horror. It is fungal, loud, sore-footed and strange, with a standing stone that looks alarmingly like expensive hi-fi equipment. “It took limited, and turned it into controlled.” FolknHell host, Andy Davidson
How each host rated this film