‘In a Violent Nature’: How this innovative Canadian horror movie hacked its way to success

The woods are lovely, dark and deep, and Johnny (Ry Barrett), the undead protagonist of “In a Violent Nature,” has miles to go before he sleeps. He also has a laundry list of errands including — but not limited to — stalking, menacing and methodically filleting the callow big-city teenagers who’ve invaded his verdant little corner of the Ontario wilderness.
In strictly narrative terms, Chris Nash’s new thriller is a slasher movie so old-school as to feel primal, with plenty of campfire lore and nubile bodies waiting to become grist for Johnny’s weapons. Its innovation is to shift the point of view away from the victims and entirely toward the mute, masked, Jason Voorhees-style predator in their midst. The film begins with Johnny rising from the dead — evidently not for the first time — and tromping dutifully away from his makeshift grave and into his ancestral hunting grounds. He knows what he has to do: the camera hovering agilely over his shoulder makes sure we’re with him every lurching step of the way.
“People have been asking why nobody has done this before,” said Nash during a Zoom interview with his producers, Peter Kuplowsky and Shannon Hanmer. “There’s a risk in just following a silent killer around — a question of ‘what is this movie?’ We asked ourselves how we were going to sustain an audience’s attention, and came up with some rules for ourselves, which we followed. We figured whatever happens, happens. We were prepared for the risks.”
Based on the film’s rapturous reception at Sundance in January, the risk paid off: “In a Violent Nature” arrived in theatres May 31 as one of the most hyped Canadian horror movies in years, winning plaudits both for its gorgeous, lyrical cinematography (by Pierce Derks) and wryly self-reflexive sense of humour.
“Our movie is dry in a funny way,” offered Kuplowsky, whose gig as the programmer for TIFF’s venerable Midnight Madness section means he knows from horror movies. By stripping down to essentials and playing funny games with audience identification, “In a Violent Nature” doubles as both a gory crowd-pleaser and an almost essayistic deconstruction of its host genre, including its embedded, cynical sense of obligation.
“We were approaching it like this was the fourth instalment of a franchise,” Hanmer said, laughing. “This is the fourth time that (Johnny) is coming back.”
“We tried to do something with all of that familiarity and formula, and tradition and tropes,” Kuplowsky added. “And there’s forward momentum in every shot.”
That sense of perpetual movement — yoked to Barrett’s slow, deliberate gait — is essential to the film’s impact. “Johnny is the heartbeat of the film,” said Hanmer.
In interviews, Nash has made a point of citing the influence of American director Gus Van Sant, whose 2003 Cannes Palme d’Or winner “Elephant” features numerous wordless, eerily beautiful sequences of teens cruising high school hallways — sequences that he describes as containing horror-movie dread. “You know that something is going to happen,” said Nash, who tried to imbue “In a Violent Nature” with the same sense of incipient terror.
The film’s style is surely more rigorous than some audience members will expect: between the long takes and the absence of music, there’s a sense that the filmmaker is cultivating boredom as much as suspense. The upshot of this approach is that when Johnny finally locates some prey and gets to plying his trade, the movie’s pulse spikes. The actual murders, meanwhile, are sadistic and spectacular, deploying the kind of baroquely over-the-top choreography that sends late-night audiences into spasms of delight (and weaker-stomached viewers running toward the exits).
That “In a Violent Nature” feels so of a piece is doubly impressive considering its rocky production circumstances, which involved moving the entire shoot from the Kawarthas to Sault Ste. Marie; where poor Johnny bears the scars of his bloody adventures, the film’s surfaces are seamless. “The forest is also a character,” said Hanmer. “The second time around, we were further north, and the sense of isolation helped everybody get into it even more.”
“We had a lot of issues, even for an indie production,” echoed Nash. “The weather problems were unprecedented, and our lead actor fell ill and had to be recast. But the movie is better for being made twice.”
“We joke that the first cut was the most elaborate pre-visualization ever done,” Kuplowsky said with a weary laugh. “It was a traumatic experience.” In the end, having a different actor play Johnny worked out, not only in the shivery subtleties of Barrett’s performance — with its loping, implacable physicality — but also by giving Nash and the crew a second crack at finding the right style.
“The first time around, I was too rusty,” the director said. “A muscle needs to be exercised and I was out of shape.” His admission suggests why it’s so much fun to watch Johnny shake off the leaves and get back to work: for filmmakers and evil entities alike, there’s something to be said for the pride of a job well done.