Into the Forest might be the first apocalyptic sci-fi movie to deliberately underplay its own apocalypse. The film, directed by Patricia Rozema and adapted from a 1996 novel by Jean Hegland, follows the slow unraveling of a near-future America, where power across the country has inexplicably gone out. With no solution in sight, society transitions to life without electricity, but rather than show us the inevitable fallout and widespread panic, the story focuses on sisters Nell (Ellen Page) and Eva (Evan Rachel Wood), who live in isolation deep in the woods of Northern California. After a tragic accident claims the life of their father (Callum Keith Rennie), the girls must rely on each other for survival, and the dystopian premise gives way to an affecting, if half-formed, depiction of sisterhood, survival and both the primacy and indomitableness of nature.
There’s risk in taking such an intimate, microcosmic approach to an extra-large concept like the end of the world, requiring characters strong and dynamic enough to flesh out the narrative’s self-imposed restrictions. Wood and Page excel in dual lead roles, but like the slowly dwindling gas supply that proves to be Nell and Eva’s most valuable currency, their energy is limited. After being surrounded by nature while still existing very much apart from it, the characters learn to live off the land, utilizing survival techniques found in books left behind by their father. In addition to picking berries, rendering fat and making their own soap, they must also learn to protect themselves from predators—human and animal alike—and the plot begins to turn on the various threats and oppositions that come their way, falling into a predictable pattern that ultimately gets in the way of the worthy performances.
The source material was praised for exploring ideas of gender inequality and society’s over-reliance on technology, but neither theme is given much consideration here. Mostly, Into the Forest seems to be about nature’s ultimate supremacy over mankind, partly illustrated by the home’s eventual fall into disrepair. As the months drag on and the sisters grow more reliant on outside as opposed to inside resources, the house succumbs to the elements and gradually crumbles around them. In a remarkable feat of production design courtesy of Jeremy Stanbridge, the house begins pristine and ultra-modern before becoming dilapidated and unlivable, a powerful way of marking both the unrelenting passage of time and mankind’s current inability to sustain itself on a planet it’s inhabited for eons. Indeed, Into the Forest isn’t about an overreliance on technology but the illusion of progress.
Apocalyptic narratives often come with the prospect and possibility of starting over, and if the film’s semi-spoilery title isn’t enough to give it away, the story ultimately points itself toward the notion of radical renewal. After turning potential tragedy into rejuvenating catharsis, the sisters find themselves on the path toward rebirth, creating for themselves a new mythology built on notions of femininity and the natural world. But Into the Forest’s final sequences feel like the beginning of a different movie altogether, and the story abruptly ends before we can fully consider the implications of the characters’ decision, let alone appreciate the meaning behind it all. Rozema’s style is decidedly spare, and she opts for subtlety and nuance over broad gestures, a move that complements the film’s slower, more contemplative stretches. But the lack of a more dynamic and forceful approach strips away the film’s potential power. There’s something utterly absent from the story’s arresting, almost mythic pull. As such, the ending isn’t so much ambiguous as it is strangely reluctant to at least hint at the possibilities posited by the narrative, ideas that would seem to require more than a wordless montage and ethereal, arty imagery to leave a truly lasting impression.
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