"Richard" (Matt Smith), his wife "Jules" (Morfydd Clark) and their young son "Owen" (Arthur Shaw) have moved back to his late father's remote hill farm. Not long after they arrive the young, asthmatic, lad starts to hear a voice that seems to be compelling him to become erratic, even violent. Before his parents get to the bottom of this, though, there's a tragedy that upends their marriage and sees him spend an increasing amount of time doing what he like to do best - archeology. He is out in all weathers and one day discovers the skeleton of an animal. Meticulously boxing it up, he takes into his study to examine it further. Boy is he in for a surprise and what now ensues takes us all back into his unhappy childhood with a brutish and unloving father and lots of standing about in his underpants. It's starting to look like the folklore surrounding an ancient oak tree that might have been an entrance to the underworld and maybe even the legendary "Dandelion Jack" might be influencing their behaviour as their lives take a turn for the distinctly bizarre. It does fall into place a little at the end, but for the most part this all centres around a jigsaw puzzle of a story with too many bits missing. Even if you do know a little about the underpinning mythology, the narrative still has too many gaps. It might make for a solid enough short film but extending this to ninety minutes puts too much pressure on the underwhelming Smith (and his hair) and the presence of her sister "Harrie" (Erin Richards) for much of their process of grief just doesn't help to create an atmosphere of menace, pity nor, really, of mystery either. There are a couple of wonderfully "Arcati" style performances from local medium "Mrs. Forde" (Melanie Kilburn) but the rest of the drama relies too heavily on it's bleak weather and heavily over-scoring. It's watchable enough, but it reminded me a little of "Enys Men" (2022) - a quirky story that provided us with some bones of the bones of an intriguing story but where near enough meat to sustain much interest.

Bunnies are supposed to be cute! THIS ISN'T CUTE, IT'S UNNERVING!

Methinks it's about time I watch Lamb (2021).

SPOILERS AHEAD!

Harrie kinda annoys me, but if we consider that Dandelion Jack already has everyone under it's influence, as implied by Juliette's trance-like state at the start of the movie, I suppose I can accept the ending. From the moment she steps back into the house, heck even Richard tells her to leave, "Harrie, this is weird, get out of the damned house. Harrie, don't go in there! Harrie, don't play with that thing! DAMMIT HARRIE!"

Starve Acre weaves together a familiar yet haunting British folk-horror narrative. In it, a man confronts dark, long-buried family secrets amidst the eerie, windswept expanse of the North Yorkshire Moors. The film’s remote setting adds an unsettling layer to the story, amplifying the isolation and creeping dread that define the genre.

Morfydd Clark, known for her captivating performance in Saint Maud, once again brings quiet intensity to the screen. As a mother consumed by the devastation of grief, her portrayal is imbued with a nuanced vulnerability. Clark masterfully conveys a deep, simmering sorrow, holding the audience’s gaze as her character teeters between despair and unravelling. Even as the film spirals into a more fantastical—and arguably more chaotic—final act, Clark remains the emotional anchor, giving the film an emotional weight that lingers.

On the other hand, Matt Smith takes a bolder approach, with an attempted Yorkshire accent that sometimes distracts from the atmosphere rather than enhances it. His brooding presence, marked by moments of intensity and introspection, is overemphasised by a camera that too often lingers in tight close-ups, almost intruding on the subtlety his performance has conveyed.

The film’s eclectic and experimental soundtrack serves as a pulsating undercurrent, heightening tension and disorienting the viewer in all the right moments. It imbues the film with a surreal, dreamlike quality that compliments the folk-horror elements. However, this atmosphere is undermined by introducing a questionable if not laughable animatronic/CGI creature, which feels artificial despite its intended menace and diminishes the immersive experience. What could have been a powerful visual metaphor instead borders on the uncanny, pulling viewers out of the otherwise grounded horror.

In the end, Starve Acre offers genuine emotional depth and atmospheric tension moments. Still, it falters when it veers too sharply into surrealism without the visual craftsmanship to back it up.

There is something wonderfully matter-of-fact about the horror of *Starve Acre*. Richard returns to the place where his father abused him, starts digging for the remains of an ancient oak and discovers that the family folklore he might reasonably have preferred to leave buried was, inconveniently, not metaphorical.

Daniel Kokotajlo's film understands one of folk horror's most useful principles: the past does not need your belief before it starts causing trouble.

Richard and Juliette are already breaking apart following the death of their son Owen. Richard retreats into the earth, literally excavating the land and his childhood, while Juliette repeatedly stares across the fields towards something the film often refuses to show us. Those wide compositions matter. The landscape is visible in its entirety, yet whatever has taken hold of the family remains frustratingly difficult to locate. It makes the openness feel more oppressive, not less.

Then there is the hare.

Richard finds its remains near the buried roots and keeps them in a box, because apparently nobody in folk horror has yet established a sensible household policy concerning mysterious animal skeletons. As sinew and fungus begin rebuilding it, *Starve Acre* moves from psychological unease into something much older and nastier.

Dandelion Jack, the spirit attached to the land and Richard's family history, operates according to ritual rather than morality. That distinction matters. Calling it evil almost lets everybody off too easily. The rules require sacrifice, and the film steadily reveals Richard's abusive father as another participant in an obligation passed from one generation to the next. Richard has inherited more than trauma. He has inherited unfinished business.

The clever cruelty is that this supernatural intrusion also begins pulling Richard and Juliette back together. Their shared grief has made communication almost impossible, yet as the ritual takes hold they gradually start acting as a couple again, eventually understanding one another with barely a word. Reconciliation would normally be encouraging. Here it means somebody should probably hide the hammer.

*Starve Acre* becomes increasingly brutal, and its final transformation deliberately offers little emotional comfort. This is proper, soil-under-the-fingernails folk horror: old land, old obligations and the horrible discovery that sometimes digging up your roots is exactly the wrong thing to do.

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Reviewed by FolknHell, the folk horror film podcast · folknhell com
Hear the full FolknHell podcast discussion of Starve Acre: folknhell com/starve-acre-rabbit-trap-double-bill-review along with our other reviews, transcripts and episodes.