Woken

Alan Friel’s Woken is a post-apocalyptic psychological thriller which, in many ways, delivers everything you could want for that exceedingly niche subgenre (if you can call it such). The setup is an engaging one, but territory we’re familiar with. Following a bewitching opening sequence wherein our main character is seen jumping off a cliff, the scenario we then find is one of forgotten memory and domestic suspicion. Anna (played brilliantly by Erin Kellyman) wakes up and finds herself being cared for by people she does not know and who reveal very little about the state of the world she’s woken up to. The film carefully unravels a multilayered mystery which delves into varying genres that the viewer may not see coming. This is a nicely crafted, expertly performed horror which manages to maintain a high level of suspense and intrigue – even offering some genuine frights.

There’s something critically conflicting about this plot and how it evolves, and it’s something I’ve encountered in other popular contemporary horror film (namely the very good Barbarian). I’m referring to the specific phenomenon of the movie’s first act being the strongest and most engaging – despite it also, simultaneously being the most predictable in terms of its plotting. The opening movement of Woken is wonderfully paced and truly immersive for its folk influences, its textural capturing of an island setting, and its overarching sense of doubt. Two of the best horror movies – The Wicker Man and Rosemary’s Baby – are evoked in these outstanding opening sequences. Best of all is the subjective way in which the audience is placed in the unknowing perspective of Anna. Due to the gradual impartment of clues and signs, the viewer only ever knows as much as our vulnerable hero, making the viewing experience an even more exciting one.

Outside of the script and mise-en-scene, another significant detail that contributes toward our engagement is the quality of the performance at the centre of this tale. Despite being surrounded by stylistic developments that veer towards more exaggerated genre territory, Kellyman remains steadfast in her naturalism and believability; but, additionally, in such a way that doesn’t tonally undercut that more stylised type of filmmaking that the writer-director wishes to explore. The latter acts occasionally struggle to maintain the steady hand that was demonstrated in the first half-hour. However, despite the lessening of atmosphere and gentle craft, it’s undeniably invigorating to see the narrative be utterly flipped on its own head and morph into a different film altogether.

The film’s multitude of story focuses and aesthetic concerns could prove overwhelming to the casual cinemagoer. To explain, consider how the film fluctuates between all the following modes: thriller, folk-horror, mystery, hot-house drama, creature-feature, high-minded science-fiction and even government conspiracy. For some, like myself, this broad scope is appealing – even when the film itself slightly buckles under the changing tonal weight of its own screenplay. Yet outside the narrative, this is also a beautifully shot and designed picture, built around anamorphic cinematography, real locations and perfectly balanced lighting. Woken is a curious object, and quite often an exceptional technical accomplishment.