Hadn't intended on celebrating my 100th post with a quickie, but having seen A Field in England, I'm not quite sure how to write about it within my usual idiom. This is what I get for seeking out an antidote to the likes of Quartet, I guess.
If you do want something energetically English but not in the least bit genteel, you could generally do worse than most of Ben Wheatley's oeuvre - I've only seen Sightseers, but I've heard good things about the rest of his work. A Field In England received a lot of good publicity when it was released, or at least, a lot of good publicity from serious British reviewers. I have to admit, I was never that enthused by a black and white horror story about a group of civil war deserters in a field full of magic mushrooms, but after Saturday's effort I really felt as though I needed something a little bit experimental.
To make it clear, then: A Field in England has only the fuzziest of narrative structures or characterisation. There's the deserters, there's Reece Shearsmith, and Michael Smiley plays a sinister alchemist. People talk and sing, and people die, and it's never entirely certain what's happening or has happened at any given moment. Only one thing is for sure: it's as creepy as fuck. In daylight and stone cold sober, I wasn't especially disturbed, however, I have the sneaking suspicion that this is one to watch whilst stoned in order to receive the experience of a lifetime - that or lasting psychological damage.
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