THE WIND. A western-style horror [REVIEW]

The very beginning of The Wind makes it clear what kind of production we are dealing with—one that tells its story primarily through imagery, not dialogue. Wide panoramic shots characteristic of westerns, revealing the beauty of the landscape, blend with unsettling close-ups and simple jump scares typical of horror. An eerie silence dominates, underscored by ominous music. The fundamental question any reviewer should ask is: do these artistic devices serve a purpose, is there an interesting idea behind them? My answer is a definite yes. This is a story about isolation, about living somewhere in the middle of the prairie, far from the city. The audiovisual side is meant to bring forth from the abyss of night the breath of the howling wind, an unspeakable evil that arises from decaying human corpses buried in the soil.

Although seemingly unreal, the story has roots in reality. It draws on the rarely depicted theme of prairie madness, described by Eugene Virgil Smalley in The Isolation of Life on Prairie Farms (1893). During the migration to the Great Plains, settlers often went insane, broke down mentally, driven by harsh living conditions and complete isolation—the emptiness, the enormous distance from urbanized areas. Although there is no direct evidence that the screenplay was based on this text, there is a strong possibility that the writer was inspired by Dorothy Scarborough’s novel The Wind (1925), adapted for the screen 90 years ago by Victor Sjöström (The Wind, 1928) starring Lillian Gish.

Flashback has long been a standard narrative device, and it plays an important role here as well. The story begins with the mysterious death of a woman, Emma Harper (Julia Goldani Telles). A series of flashbacks is used to explain who she was, and how and why she died. The retrospections are essential for the viewer to piece the narrative together into a coherent whole. Unfortunately, the film loses some of its power because of them—when a dramatic, tension-filled scene occurs, it is suddenly interrupted by a flashback that breaks the rhythm.

The result is a fluctuating sense of tension, rising and falling like a sine wave. On the plus side, the filmmakers do not spell everything out, leaving much for the audience to interpret. The ending, however, is problematic—blink or turn your head and you risk missing the last line or final scene, leaving a sense of dissatisfaction.

The film was created primarily by women. The screenplay was written by Teresa Sutherland, the direction handled by Emma Tammi, and they chose a distinctly female perspective to bring their vision of a dark West to life.

(Incidentally, the film was also edited by a woman, Alexandra Amick, for whom, as with the director and writer, this was a feature film debut.) Even so, this production has little to do with the recent wave of feminist manifestos. Both female characters, Lizzie and Emma, see more than others—but their visions may stem from very different causes. Most likely they are the result of madness brought on by isolation, by the necessity of living among ghosts and demons of the past. In such circumstances, the male figure appears in a more favorable light, portrayed as more resistant to harsh conditions, less prone to paranoia, superstition, and malign influences.

Fans of classic westerns know that the collective protagonist in such films is usually a God-fearing community, with the church as a staple element of every town. In this film, it is no coincidence that Evil manifests itself in the form of a preacher. Words like “this place is forsaken by God” take on a hidden meaning. Perhaps God did arrive here too, testing the character of man, while preaching the Word consists in conjuring monsters in people’s minds, generating paranoia and fear. The pastor is played by Miles Anderson, arguably the most experienced member of the cast, though his career has mostly been in television productions.

Neither is cinematographer Lyn Moncrief an amateur, though he mainly works among independent filmmakers. The cinematography here plays a crucial role, shaping the film no less than the screenplay. Another major strength of the film is the lead actress, Caitlin Gerard, an actress with great potential, who portrays Elizabeth Macklin in a nuanced way, conveying both the emotions typical of horror heroines and those found in psychological dramas. The Wind may not be an outstanding film, but the time spent in the cinema was certainly not wasted.