Inland review – magnificent Mark Rylance powers Forest of Dean folk horror | Drama films

It’s a slippery, shape-shifting creature, this arresting first feature set in Gloucester and the secretive ancient woodlands of the Forest of Dean; a micro-budget production that punches above its weight with the talent involved. Writer-director Fridtjof Ryder is clearly a name to watch; Mark Rylance in a supporting role, is magnificent, and Kathryn Hunter brings a gnarled, earthy quality to a voice performance. Rory Alexander stars as an unnamed young man who, following his mother’s disappearance, is drawn back to his rural community. The film layers mystery upon mystery, not least of which is how to describe this enigmatic, genre-defying picture. There’s a touch of British folk horror and an evident Lynchian influence on the unnerving, uncanny world that the man discovers.

Inland creates atmosphere rather than providing answers – an atmosphere enfolded in mossy, ominous shades of damp green and grey. But mainly it’s an atmosphere created by Rylance’s remarkable performance as a quasi-father figure to the young man – the angular rhythms of his line delivery; the way his eyes slide warily to the edge of the frame. It creates a prickling uneasiness that is hard to shake.

It’s a slippery, shape-shifting creature, this arresting first feature set in Gloucester and the secretive ancient woodlands of the Forest of Dean; a micro-budget production that punches above its weight with the talent involved. Writer-director Fridtjof Ryder is clearly a name to watch; Mark Rylance in a supporting role, is magnificent, and Kathryn Hunter brings a gnarled, earthy quality to a voice performance. Rory Alexander stars as an unnamed young man who, following his mother’s disappearance, is drawn back to his rural community. The film layers mystery upon mystery, not least of which is how to describe this enigmatic, genre-defying picture. There’s a touch of British folk horror and an evident Lynchian influence on the unnerving, uncanny world that the man discovers.

Inland creates atmosphere rather than providing answers – an atmosphere enfolded in mossy, ominous shades of damp green and grey. But mainly it’s an atmosphere created by Rylance’s remarkable performance as a quasi-father figure to the young man – the angular rhythms of his line delivery; the way his eyes slide warily to the edge of the frame. It creates a prickling uneasiness that is hard to shake.