In the Earth (2021)

In the Earth is special because it turns a simple trek into a feverish, brain-scratching descent where the forest feels less like scenery and more like a living intelligence watching you back. Ben Wheatley fuses pandemic dread with folk-horror weirdness and just enough dark humor to keep you off-balance, then seals it with hypnotic sound design and hallucinatory imagery that lingers like an afterimage. It’s tense and inventive rather than conventionally “scary,” the kind of thriller that gets under your skin by making you question whether you’re witnessing science, myth, or a third thing that doesn’t care what you call it. Fair warning: the violence is sudden and grisly, so if gore is a dealbreaker you should steer clear—but if you want an original, atmospheric trip that feels like it’s pulsing with strange life, this one is worth the walk into the woods.

In the Earth is clearly aiming for a pandemic-era descent into eco-horror, where science, folklore, and paranoia bleed together in a hostile forest that feels alive. Ben Wheatley delivers some genuinely unnerving atmosphere and striking sound-and-light sequences, but the story gets increasingly hazy and under-explained, swapping momentum for psychedelic vibes that can feel more like a mood board than a narrative. The violence is also blunt and grisly, so if you’re not up for body-horror punctuating long stretches of ambiguity, this will test your patience. If you enjoy experimental, sensory horror that prioritizes dread and weirdness over clear answers, you’ll find moments to admire; if you want a coherent thriller with a satisfying payoff, you’ll likely leave irritated.