The sad truth is that independent films – and even Folk Horror, in general – are, ultimately, not for everyone.
Their stories can be a bit odd at times, never quite feeling as if the storytellers wanted to explore anything greater than a single note, beat, or idea. Though such flicks used to be populated with second tier stars and starlets trying to stretch creatively if not approach something completely different, these projects seem to have fallen on hard times: very few of them see the light of day any more – a sad fact that might be owed to the presence of so many unknown, untried, untested, and unproven talents – or they wind up in the direct-to-DVD video bin at your local big box discount store. Film festivals across the fruited plain still manage to serve them up when given the chance; but even those outlets have fallen into disarray as many organizers just can’t quite seem to muster the funds to see them continued in modern times.
Just as indie features can be a bit hard-to-swallow, Folk Horror can be even more of an ‘acquired taste.’
Bits and pieces of their stories need to be defined in order to be fully grasped and appreciated; and not every viewer who buys a ticket is all that much interested in ‘learning’ as opposed to be sufficiently ‘entertained.’ It’s a unique sub-genre that knows no bounds because its parameters can be expanded to new frontiers so long as the core foundation sticks close to rural settings, superstitions, community or even communal settings, and other related things that go bump in the night. When full-blown Horror can be immensely popular, Folk counterparts tend to be a bit quieter, a bit more reserved, a bit less bloody … and much more thought-provoking.
Thankfully, there are a handful of great distributors out there – like those at Severin Films – who refuse to let experimental and independent cinema die; and they’ve awarded me a fabulously expansive set – All The Haunts Be Ours: A Compendium Of Folk Horror Volume 2 – that I’ve really only begun scratching the surface of.
Today’s fright: 2018’s Edge Of The Knife is the story about one small tribal community’s brush with unexpected tragedy and how its effects stretch to the point wherein an intervention becomes necessary to bring one member back from a mental break. It’s a grim tale performed well, but I’ll admit right up front that my opinion of it might feel a bit different than others who discuss storytelling … and that’s because in some ways I just don’t feel necessarily qualified.
Curious?
Let’s get to it …
Their stories can be a bit odd at times, never quite feeling as if the storytellers wanted to explore anything greater than a single note, beat, or idea. Though such flicks used to be populated with second tier stars and starlets trying to stretch creatively if not approach something completely different, these projects seem to have fallen on hard times: very few of them see the light of day any more – a sad fact that might be owed to the presence of so many unknown, untried, untested, and unproven talents – or they wind up in the direct-to-DVD video bin at your local big box discount store. Film festivals across the fruited plain still manage to serve them up when given the chance; but even those outlets have fallen into disarray as many organizers just can’t quite seem to muster the funds to see them continued in modern times.
Just as indie features can be a bit hard-to-swallow, Folk Horror can be even more of an ‘acquired taste.’
Bits and pieces of their stories need to be defined in order to be fully grasped and appreciated; and not every viewer who buys a ticket is all that much interested in ‘learning’ as opposed to be sufficiently ‘entertained.’ It’s a unique sub-genre that knows no bounds because its parameters can be expanded to new frontiers so long as the core foundation sticks close to rural settings, superstitions, community or even communal settings, and other related things that go bump in the night. When full-blown Horror can be immensely popular, Folk counterparts tend to be a bit quieter, a bit more reserved, a bit less bloody … and much more thought-provoking.
Thankfully, there are a handful of great distributors out there – like those at Severin Films – who refuse to let experimental and independent cinema die; and they’ve awarded me a fabulously expansive set – All The Haunts Be Ours: A Compendium Of Folk Horror Volume 2 – that I’ve really only begun scratching the surface of.
Today’s fright: 2018’s Edge Of The Knife is the story about one small tribal community’s brush with unexpected tragedy and how its effects stretch to the point wherein an intervention becomes necessary to bring one member back from a mental break. It’s a grim tale performed well, but I’ll admit right up front that my opinion of it might feel a bit different than others who discuss storytelling … and that’s because in some ways I just don’t feel necessarily qualified.
Curious?
Let’s get to it …
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“When a man accidentally causes the death of the son of his best friend, the man is wracked by grief and runs off into the woods.”
One of the first lessons I learned from a college professor who was very fond of films is that these productions can be ‘acclaimed’ for any number of legitimate reasons … and, yet, that doesn’t necessarily mean they need be celebrated universally. Sometimes, that’s how I approach a film I’m encouraged to screen only to find myself a bit confused as to what I might be missing. While some stories resonate more broadly with audiences, others are best reserved for those who perhaps understand a certain cultural depiction. There’s nothing wrong with admitting, “Sorry, but I just don’t get it.”
For me, Edge Of The Knife (aka SGaawaay K'uuna) both is and isn’t a good example of this phenomenon. While bits and pieces of its simple story – a young boy’s life tragically ends from a boating accident, and this grief tears through a small Indian community in different ways – are easy to identify with, there’s still a vast degree of slowness and downright stillness to the direction from Gwaai Edenshaw and Helen Haig-Brown. Unfortunately, this 101-running time feels like its vastly longer, and that’s because the narrative is chocked full of extended sequences that stretch well beyond the substance of the point being made. While some of it goes a long way toward establishing mood and emotion, I’d still insist that the pacing could’ve been vastly improved with some creative restraint.
From what I’ve read, however, Edge has received a great deal of its acclaim because it was the first feature-length production centered not only on the Haida (an indigenous tribe of the Pacific Northwest Coast of North America, per Google.com) but also it explores a tale drawn from Haidi legends. That fact alone is indeed impressive, causing me to briefly tip my hat to all of those involved. Even though I might naturally be inclined to point out the ways one could improve upon the storytelling, I’ll pass up on that strategy, saying basically that such an achievement is noteworthy, and here’s hoping that we see more of it.
Where I might take issue still is why anyone would suggest including this release as part of a Folk Horror collection.
To my understanding (and, again, I could be slightly off base here, so haters beware), Folk Horror explores that fertile ground between what one might define as civilization and the uncivilized. It often involves locales cut off from society at large, and there’s typically an element of folklore – wives’ tales, superstitions, and the like – that worm a path through the central plotline. But what gets depicted here deals more with a culture’s shamanistic cures to a level of displayed psychosis (or psychological struggle); and I almost feel a bit … erm … dirty suggesting in any way that their beliefs (and maybe even their wider belief system) might be little more than falsehoods or artistic delusions.
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“When a man accidentally causes the death of the son of his best friend, the man is wracked by grief and runs off into the woods.”
One of the first lessons I learned from a college professor who was very fond of films is that these productions can be ‘acclaimed’ for any number of legitimate reasons … and, yet, that doesn’t necessarily mean they need be celebrated universally. Sometimes, that’s how I approach a film I’m encouraged to screen only to find myself a bit confused as to what I might be missing. While some stories resonate more broadly with audiences, others are best reserved for those who perhaps understand a certain cultural depiction. There’s nothing wrong with admitting, “Sorry, but I just don’t get it.”
For me, Edge Of The Knife (aka SGaawaay K'uuna) both is and isn’t a good example of this phenomenon. While bits and pieces of its simple story – a young boy’s life tragically ends from a boating accident, and this grief tears through a small Indian community in different ways – are easy to identify with, there’s still a vast degree of slowness and downright stillness to the direction from Gwaai Edenshaw and Helen Haig-Brown. Unfortunately, this 101-running time feels like its vastly longer, and that’s because the narrative is chocked full of extended sequences that stretch well beyond the substance of the point being made. While some of it goes a long way toward establishing mood and emotion, I’d still insist that the pacing could’ve been vastly improved with some creative restraint.
From what I’ve read, however, Edge has received a great deal of its acclaim because it was the first feature-length production centered not only on the Haida (an indigenous tribe of the Pacific Northwest Coast of North America, per Google.com) but also it explores a tale drawn from Haidi legends. That fact alone is indeed impressive, causing me to briefly tip my hat to all of those involved. Even though I might naturally be inclined to point out the ways one could improve upon the storytelling, I’ll pass up on that strategy, saying basically that such an achievement is noteworthy, and here’s hoping that we see more of it.
Where I might take issue still is why anyone would suggest including this release as part of a Folk Horror collection.
To my understanding (and, again, I could be slightly off base here, so haters beware), Folk Horror explores that fertile ground between what one might define as civilization and the uncivilized. It often involves locales cut off from society at large, and there’s typically an element of folklore – wives’ tales, superstitions, and the like – that worm a path through the central plotline. But what gets depicted here deals more with a culture’s shamanistic cures to a level of displayed psychosis (or psychological struggle); and I almost feel a bit … erm … dirty suggesting in any way that their beliefs (and maybe even their wider belief system) might be little more than falsehoods or artistic delusions.
Perhaps this is where we’ve come to socially in this era of our shared history. When my job is to both educate and entertain, I might still feel compelled to avoid discussing an idea or two here or there because I don’t want to be – in any way – insensitive; and as a consequence, I’m a bit squeamish saying anything further about the narrative. Suffice it to say, the Haida of this story experience a heartbreaking calamity, and grief – as we all know – gets featured and explored in several ways. What evolves over these 100+ minutes is something I don’t feel competent to classify, quantify, and criticize because, frankly, it feels wrong.
Performances are good, though a bit unimpressive at times. There are a few moments of humor surprisingly here. The cinematography is good, and I appreciated the conclusion. But … is this Horror? Is this Folk Horror? I guess it fits the hardcore parameters to some even though I’m hard-pressed to give this one an enthusiastic thumbs up on that score. It feels more like a dramatic effort with an uncurrent of psychological Horror, but what do I know?
Edge Of The Knife (2018) was produced by Niijang Xyalaas and Kingulliit Productions. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Severin Films. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I do believe this was all shot on HD Video – at least, it certainly looks that way – and I found the provided sights-and-sounds to be very good across the run. As for the special features? There’s an interesting audio commentary but even better was the documentary that focuses a bit more on the mechanics of getting the project off the ground – its challenges, its highs and lows – which I enjoyed more. Also, there are a few shorts films accompanying it all. A good package.
Alas … only Mildly Recommended.
Far be it from me to decide what is and what isn’t authentic Folk Horror. While I’ll certainly not disparage anyone who thinks Edge Of The Knife (2018) fits within the sometimes-curious mold, I’ll tread lightly – with great respect – by asking, “Aren’t we doing a disservice to a people’s culture by – ahem – classifying it as superstition?” This is why I do consciously avoid discussing some features – I’m disinclined to offend anyone with my observations, especially involving a heritage I know little about – but to each his own. As a finished product, Edge is still a bit underwhelming if not clunky in a few spots as a story; and a much tighter presentation would be appreciated if this one ever receives a makeover.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Severin Films provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Edge Of The Knife (2018) – as part of their All The Haunts Be Ours: A Compendium Of Folk Horror Vol. 2 – by request for the purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
Performances are good, though a bit unimpressive at times. There are a few moments of humor surprisingly here. The cinematography is good, and I appreciated the conclusion. But … is this Horror? Is this Folk Horror? I guess it fits the hardcore parameters to some even though I’m hard-pressed to give this one an enthusiastic thumbs up on that score. It feels more like a dramatic effort with an uncurrent of psychological Horror, but what do I know?
Edge Of The Knife (2018) was produced by Niijang Xyalaas and Kingulliit Productions. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Severin Films. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I do believe this was all shot on HD Video – at least, it certainly looks that way – and I found the provided sights-and-sounds to be very good across the run. As for the special features? There’s an interesting audio commentary but even better was the documentary that focuses a bit more on the mechanics of getting the project off the ground – its challenges, its highs and lows – which I enjoyed more. Also, there are a few shorts films accompanying it all. A good package.
Alas … only Mildly Recommended.
Far be it from me to decide what is and what isn’t authentic Folk Horror. While I’ll certainly not disparage anyone who thinks Edge Of The Knife (2018) fits within the sometimes-curious mold, I’ll tread lightly – with great respect – by asking, “Aren’t we doing a disservice to a people’s culture by – ahem – classifying it as superstition?” This is why I do consciously avoid discussing some features – I’m disinclined to offend anyone with my observations, especially involving a heritage I know little about – but to each his own. As a finished product, Edge is still a bit underwhelming if not clunky in a few spots as a story; and a much tighter presentation would be appreciated if this one ever receives a makeover.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Severin Films provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Edge Of The Knife (2018) – as part of their All The Haunts Be Ours: A Compendium Of Folk Horror Vol. 2 – by request for the purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
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