The Feast review: one of 2021’s best, sickest horror movies

Dinner parties can be their own kind of torture, and in cinematic form, they’re ripe locations to mine social discomfort. When directors trap people in a room together and aggressively enforce social niceties, they’re just cueing up the squirming resentments and discontent. Black comedies like Sally Potter’s The Party, thrillers like Karyn Kusama’s Invitation, or dysfunctional family dramas like John Wells’ August: Osage County — they all pinpoint that moment during a get-together when politeness gives way to honesty, and small talk becomes real talk. Then all hell breaks loose. This is the Welsh horror film The FeastThe movie, which is quietly enchanting and evocative of the best movies of all time, thrives on this kind of discomfort.

Simultaneously, elegant and gritty The Feast is the latest in this year’s mini-trend of environmentally focused horrors, following EarthAnd Gaia. Roger Williams and Lee Haven Jones, director of the film, create an environment of stillness that is omnipresent (dense forests, sprawling marshes), before juxtaposing it with people’s polluting presence. Cinematographer Bjørn Ståle Bratberg captures in closeups the malevolence of man-made machines: the pumping grind of an oil rig drawing viscous fluid up from underground, the metallic glint of a double-barreled shotgun set in the grass, the dull thud of an axe head as it topples to the ground. These items can be seen as signs of civilized advancement independently. Together, they take on a more ominous tone, asking “How much of our creativity is inspired by dominating the world around us, and at what cost?”

The Feast takes place entirely over a single day in a remote mansion in the Welsh mountains that’s accessible only by a dirt road. It’s set far off from its neighbors, and populated by an upper-class family whose members seem barely able to stand each other. Glenda (Nia Roberts), wife of local politician Gwyn (Julian Lewis Jones), is a passive-aggressive cascade of complaints and humblebrags: The local grocery store doesn’t carry bok choy, so they had a courier deliver it fresh to their home. The pub owner she originally hired to help her prepare and serve during a dinner party canceled at the last minute, which doesn’t suit Glenda’s aspirations. “I want to make a good impression,” she says. So when a young woman, Cadi (Annes Elwy) arrives at the end of their drive, Glenda immediately assumes she’s the pub owner’s replacement, and starts bossing her around.

The explicit classism of that dynamic draws irritation from Glenda’s son Guto (Steffan Cennydd), who is curious about the quiet Cadi, and amusement from her other son, Gweirydd (Sion Alun Davies), whose hungry stare at Cadi gives off serious American Psycho vibes. Cadi is as curious about them as they are about her, and Jones incrementally ratchets up the audience’s anxiety as Cadi wanders around this strange house. The narrow sauna room’s doors are bare, revealing an interior that looks almost like prison. Gweirydd’s bedroom has its floor-to-ceiling windows uncovered, so he can peer out — or someone else can peer in. The Feast sets out on a path of voyeurism, and then, through Williams’ slyly revelatory script and a couple of well-edited, jarringly violent sequences, subverts expectations regarding who’s trespassing here, and who’s being trespassed on.

The Feast requires patience, and some of its stylistic flourishes don’t exactly work. With title cards that indicate upcoming lines, the film can be divided into about half a dozen chapters. Their inclusion doesn’t add anything to the already sparse, impact-heavy dialogue. It would be helpful to contextualize the folklore and explore the possibility of a haunted house setup. There is power in the way you are committed. The FeastIts driving concept is in the way it covers that idea with gross, slimy and squishy material when the opportunity arises.

How would you look if you were truly there? The earthHow do we return to our ancestral roots and the horrors that it brings? Jones offers an array of visuals mirroring the film’s suggestion that humanity is a kind of invasion: a smear of dirt on a piece of brightly colored modern art; drops of blood falling into translucent bathwater; a dribble of vomit falling into a nicely prepared meal for a dinner party. Jones and Williams examine the behavior of people while demonstrating the worst results of capitalism, greed and know when to give in to brutality. The Feast into one of the year’s most smartly conceived, plainly effective horrors.

The FeastLimited theatrical releases and digital rental platforms such as Vimeo will be available for debuts DirecTVAnd VuduNovember 19.