The windswept Irish fishing village at the center of Saela Davis and Anna Rose Holmer’s atmospheric new drama God’s Creatures has no name. The sky is perpetually overcast, houses creak ceaselessly in the wind as if to suggest the presence of a ghost, and an omnipresent sense of doom hangs over everything and everyone. This is apparent from the opening frames, a frantic rush of water and bubbles accompanied by the sound of someone drowning, followed by rushing undercurrents and an image of a dog barking alone in a car. These shots are purposefully disassociating, keeping the viewer at arm’s length from their full context, but also powerfully active in leading the eye to explore areas of the frame we might not otherwise explore. It’s an opening that effectively sets the stage for the film’s central narrative conceit – what it means to observe, both as a bystander and active participant in the events surrounding you. Without exception, it’s the small moments that form the larger picture.
To say that God’s Creatures is a slow burn would be an understatement. For most of its runtime, it’s more of a simmer, but this isn’t necessarily a flaw. We follow Aileen, played with an initially unassuming demeanor by the excellent Emily Watson. She runs the ground floor of the oyster harvesting factory where all of the women work, sorting and managing the oysters, as well as handing out prepared nets to the men that harvest the farms. Oyster farming has become a dangerous job because of a dubious tradition where the men refuse to learn how to swim, lest they be obligated to risk their lives saving the life of a fellow fisherman who’s drowning. Aileen’s world is disrupted by the surprising arrival of her son Brian (Paul Mescal), a charismatic but slightly lay about young man, whose unannounced return sows beads of distrust amongst other members of the family. But Aileen’s love for Brian is a blind spot to the troubling questions his return raises, and eventually even leads her to tell a damaging lie on his behalf.
Much of God’s Creatures takes place in the background or at clear visual divides. Men are separated from women, both in work and at home. The town is dependent on this uneasy stratification of gender that is hinted at but never overbearing. Characters are positioned in long takes through doorways and windows, tracked as they make their way quietly through the background of a crowded frame. There is a conscious suggestion that the real story is happening in the periphery, a visual tactic that not only makes the story more engaging but aids it thematically. Shane Crowley’s screenplay is peppered with lyrical dialogue and imagery that alludes to the multitudes of themes at play, from gender to religion, tradition to generational trauma. Crowley’s attention to detail is aided by cinematographer Chayse Irvin’s evocative work behind the camera. The surrounding environment of the inlet and distant mountains is rendered in gorgeous scale, a sense of grandeur applying to even the most routine moments of these character’s lives.
But the film mostly works on the strength of its performances. Mescal’s natural charisma and boyish appearance make his eventual transformation disturbing. Almost identical shots of him early and later on in the film carry vastly different emotional connotations without much more than implication. The film’s other standout performance comes from Aisling Franciosi, playing Sarah, the story’s emotional center. Saddled with the difficult task of portraying a character who undergoes significant trauma, she carries the latter half of the film with surprising ferocity.
It’s a shame, then, that God’s Creatures doesn’t stick the landing. After a steady and intense build, the action fizzles and ends on a blunt note that’s more “that’s it?” than impactful. A24 distributes, and the film has some of the drawbacks of their other, more minor offerings. An eerie, dissonant violin score is effective at conveying tone, but almost identical to several other compositions from A24 catalogue, like last year’s well-directed but underwhelming Lamb. This specific, self-conscious moodiness, often symptomatic of some directorial debuts (this is Saela Davis’s first film and Anna Rose Holmer’s second, the first being The Fits in 2015) feels too knowing, as if the filmmakers are constricting their own material in an effort to make everything more symbolic. It’s an unfortunate missed opportunity considering the rich collection of themes at play, ones that would suggest a conclusion with a much more subversive punch. For these reasons, God’s Creatures may ultimately be swept away in the tide of 2022’s more dynamic releases, but it’s nevertheless a well-made and well-acted testament to the power of subtle storytelling. One just wishes the final taste had a more unique flavor.
Photo courtesy of A24
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