Fantastic Fest ’23: Neolithic survival thriller Out of Darkness makes the most of limitations
Courtesy of Fantastic Fest
This is part of our coverage of new genre films premiering at Austin’s Fantastic Fest. This film screened under the title The Origin, which was changed to Out of Darkness later, before wide release.
One reason horror is such a great sandbox for early-career filmmakers is that there are so many opportunities to make the most of a small budget if you know what you’re doing. If you have a great location, solid photography, good lighting and sound, you don’t need great special effects, pyrotechnics or exquisitely-built sets. With a little creativity, you can build tension by what your audience doesn’t see, while also using tricks to maximize what they do.
Case in point: Out of Darkness, which packs in all of the above to tell a lean, merciless tale of a group of early humans newly arrived in what they believe is a pristine promised land, only to find they’re not alone. Not only that, but whatever (whoever?) already stalks the land is out for blood. As the new settlers look for food and try to survive, the tribal ties that bind them begin to break down along social strata and gender divides. It’s a story with familiar undertones that director and co-writer Andrew Cumming (in his feature debut) and co-screenwriters Ruth Greenberg and Oliver Kassman successfully remind us is as old as time itself.
The group dynamics are as archetypal as it gets. The group’s leader, Adem (Chuku Modu), is a clear alpha, certain he can conquer whatever the land throws at him until disaster strikes. His mate, Ave (Iola Evans)—along with Adem, their names have intentionally biblical echoes—is carrying his child. Adem’s impressionable child Heron (Luna Mwezi) is excited by the prospect of new adventure, while elder Odal (Arno Luening) senses Adem’s folly.
Adem’s younger brother Geirr (Kit Young) is loyal, but unsure where he fits in the hierarchy. So-called “stray” Beyah (Safia Oakley-Green) is repeatedly told by the others that she’s there for “whatever we need.” According to the others in the group, that means nanny, sexual object, and potential food source and/or human sacrifice at various points. But of course, Beyah is tougher and smarter than she seems. Final girls are still final girls, no matter what era they exist in.
Cumming and crew are committed to keeping the vibe as primal as possible, to the point where they created a prehistoric language, Tola, for the characters to speak to each other. The lighting is mainly natural, with either daylight or firelight determining what we’re able to see. This also helps the natural beauty of the film’s highland setting to shine through, with several incredible shots framing mountains, cliffs and underbrush from unexpected, often breathtaking angles. This is a film you could take individual stills from and frame on a wall in a museum.
Out of Darkness’ story is gripping, but production design is really the order of the day. In addition to a couple of great, icky moments employing lighting to smart effect (a knife pressing against one character makes their flesh look disturbingly pliant against the shifting blacks and oranges of a glowing fire), the sound design is brilliant, making eerie creaks, crunchy bangs and whistling wind that amplifies the tension. I have to imagine the foley artists had a field day figuring out how many ways to make wood sound creepy—turns out there are more than you’d think.
There are several levels of cultural commentary running throughout Out of Darkness, some of which work better than others. The strongest, however, is its consideration of the kinds of stories we tell, and how far back their structures and themes reach. Some may argue the film isn’t doing anything new, but that’s largely the point. What sets Cumming’s movie apart is how it shows audiences how little it takes to tell a story that holds our attention and makes us think, from the narrative tactics it uses to the old-school cinematic trickery and natural scenery that make it sing.
