DIRECTOR: Lee Haven Jones
CAST: Annes Elwy, Nia Roberts, Julian Lewis Jones, Steffan Cennydd, Sion Alun Davies, Caroline Berry, Rhodri Meilir, Lisa Palfrey
RUNNING TIME: 93 mins
CERTIFICATE: 18
BASICALLY…: A young woman (Elwy) is hired to serve at a wealthy family’s dinner party, which quickly descends into chaos…
NOW FOR THE REVIEW…
After the success of the nearly all-Gaelic Irish drama The Quiet Girl, it doesn’t seem viable anymore to accept English as the only language to emerge from the British isles (and yes, I know that Ireland technically isn’t British, save for Northern Ireland, but it’s within that vicinity). Sure enough, Wales now seems to be confident enough to release a mainstream horror entirely in its local Cymraeg dialect, a unique and welcome choice that immediately sets The Feast apart from other such genre flicks set in the Welsh districts.
As for the movie itself, it’s a wild ride; the directorial feature debut of Lee Haven Jones (who has previously directed episodes of Doctor Who and Casualty, among others) gives off an uneasy and intimidating feeling throughout, starting off nice and slow before descending into all-out chaos by the end, which elevates itself nicely in ways that even compliment the all-Welsh dialogue.
The film is set over the course of a day and an evening, at a fancy modern house in the rural Welsh countryside. The wealthy occupants are Welsh MP Gwyn (Julian Lewis Jones), his wife Glenda (Nia Roberts) who used to live on the current land when it was a farm – and was since torn down to make way for the modern monstrosity they now live in – and their two adult sons Gweirydd (Sion Alun Davies), a triathlete-in-training, and recovering drug addict Guto (Steffan Cennydd). On this particular day, Glenda is busy preparing the house for a fancy dinner party with her neighbours, whom the family wants to convince to allow them drilling access on their land as part of their mining business. She has hired a local young woman, Cadi (Annes Elwy), to come and help set up, but she is a strange creature herself; mostly silent, wide-eyed, and leaving mysterious traces of mud throughout the house, Cadi eventually shows her true colours, transforming the evening into a nightmare for its privileged guests.
Split into six sections, each named after vital pieces of dialogue, The Feast is a horror that takes its sweet time building up an uneasy atmosphere within and around this singular location. The house where most of the action takes place is rather eerie in its own right (and is also, incidentally, an actual building; you can apparently find and book the place as a retreat on Airbnb), made to look so soulless and artificial with all its modern appliances, including a spa room that looks like a glammed-up prison cell, that you are already rooting for the surrounding nature to take its course and reclaim its land. There’s also some decent set-up with these characters, in particular the wealthy family at its centre, with the writing (by Roger Williams, also a producer on the film) carefully drip-feeding information about them at just the right moments, but always enough to highlight the inherent awfulness of this family, whose barely-concealed entitlement and sleaze gives off sinister vibes long before the strange outsider Cadi even shows up.
When she does begin to leave her mark on the evening, the film goes to some unexpected places that inflict local folklore and some rather gory violence (including a very literal instance of the phrase, “eat the rich”) that those with sensitive stomachs may not be able to handle. It’s all very subdued, though, as director Jones keeps things reasonably grounded, resisting the urge to descend into complete chaos, but also manages to retain a level of ambiguity that leaves the viewer with more questions than answers, yet most of what we get is reasonably satisfying. Of course, the wealthy elite is hardly a fresh target for this kind of film, but Jones and writer/producer Williams find ways to make their inevitable comeuppance feel natural, especially at the hands of a mysterious figure whose own connection to the surrounding countryside (which may or may not be of supernatural origin) is oddly inviting despite the sinisterness of it, in part thanks to Annes Elwy’s creepily mousey performance.
Overall, it’s a solid feature debut for this director, who gets the most out of his environment and ensemble of largely (and intentionally) detestable characters to create a chilling tone that is matched by its nastier moments of gore later on. As for the Cymraeg language itself, it’s honestly cool hearing that dialect for the entirety of a movie like this, as within this context it resembles an other-worldliness – at least, to those outside the Welsh borders – that further highlights the sharp divide between nature and capitalism, but like The Quiet Girl before it, the language makes The Feast feel authentic and real to its immediate surroundings. Now, all we need is for someone to make an all-Scots language genre flick (comedy, perhaps?), and the trifecta of local-language British/Irish mainstream cinema offerings will be complete.
SO, TO SUM UP…
The Feast is a solid all-Cymraeg horror from debut director Lee Haven Jones, who carefully builds on the intense atmosphere towards a shocking and gory turn of events that are reasonably satisfying for its elitist characters who are beautifully repulsive, and still leaves you hungry for more.
